Art school is fantastic.

Getting my own trains, window shopping, buying lunch, taking leaflets, filling out market research surveys, sitting in parks, sketching in public, wearing my own clothes, walking into class as early or late as I like, taking shelter from the rain in St Aloysius' Church, discussing serious topics with a room full of people, being offered tea and biscuits, having people try to guess my age, making new friends from all over, being the only Glaswegian at the Glasgow School of Art, sitting on the train home with music in my ears and aching feet, seeing people I know from school and neatly avoiding their put-downs, smiling at strangers, being invited out, having people interested in getting to know me better...

Yeah. Art school is fantastic.
I should probably do some kind of all-encompassing report of what's been happening at some point, but so far it's just been a week of getting a feel for the place. Plus, getting a sweet taste of independence with an extra sprinkling of confidence, both in my art and in myself.

And I genuinely have to apologise if I'm not online much in the next few weeks, because I'm at the school from 9am until 5pm and seriously exhausted afterwards. It's a good kind of exhaustion though. A brilliant kind of exhaustion.