As pretty much the worst excuse for a blogger, I apologise. Things have been pretty hectic, and as I write I'm living the high life in the mighty US of A.
Family holidays to Florida tend to be pretty jam-packed and as for school...
It has this habit of lulling you in to this wonderful sense of security that you're on top of all your work and you can start to relax.
NEVER TAKE THIS SERIOUSLY EVER IT IS ALL A LIE
The second you leave your work for a little while because you've got a while and not much else to do, you watch a few films, go on social media, spend some time with your boyfriend, the second you decide that that's a good idea, the worst thing possible happens....
You're in your bubble of security and then you get to school one day only to be given 36 essays and 42 pieces of homework in for next Tuesday.
And the second that happens.... Well, basically... You're fucked.
I've made this mistake 5 or 6 times now and am still waiting to have learnt my lesson. I'll probably make it at least another 13 times. Just, ya know. Just to be sure.
And then it hits December 1st and all you can remember are the lyrics to Slade and Mariah Carey and you couldn't give a flying fuck why the American Civil War started, or the techniques used by Shakespeare to compare the Renaissance and the Medieval. You want to sit by the fireplace drinking hot chocolate in your pyjamas listening to the Christmas classics with a mince pie.
Then you hear on the news it's meant to snow. You think "yay, no school on Friday! I'll leave my homework!".
And then it doesn't snow. And you do have school on Friday. And then once again, you are royally fucked.
Anyway, iit's still the holidays, I need to stop fretting about school before I depress myself.
The last thing that I remember from school in 2015 was an Italian lesson in which my friends all appeared at the window brandishing a bra and shouting "WE HAVE A BRA FOR YOU!!!".
I didn't even bother explaining to the teacher what the circumstances were, but I can assure you it's a other more innocent than you're probably thinking.
Think my friend lent me a strapless bra for holiday so I could wear halternecks as we're the same size.
We girlies like to share more than just gossip.
Something I've noticed here is the fact that everyone is so much friendlier than back at home.
You'll be ambling down a street when someone waves at you and asks how your day is going.
Naturally, I do the very British thing of looking over my shoulder, believing the stranger us addressing someone other than myself. But alas, no. They did mean to talk to me.
Even Brits are more friendly to other Brits here. You hear the tones of another English accent and you start chatting to them no matter what and walk away as unlikely chums.
Back in the UK we're far more likely to shove someone down the escalators of the Underground than we are of making smalltalk with strangers.
Think about it. If I passed a stranger in the street back home I'd generally look at the pavement and scuttle along. If I was feeling particularly adventurous maybe I'd attempt a smile.
Here it's everyone talks to everyone, long conversations with waiting staff and parking operatives, and "ohmygawd I LURVE your accent!"
Within an hour of landing in this country I was asked what a Donnex's catchphrase was. I had not the foggiest what this chap from the rental car company was on about until he said "EXTERMINATE!". It then occurred to me that he must have meant a Dalek.
Some stranger walked up to me a couple of days ago at the swimming pool and asked what Premier League football team I supported. They laughed when they said football, as if we Brits were the ones that christened a sport which predominantly uses hands "football".
I had to disappoint him in saying I honestly couldn't give a flying toss about a spherical ball moving up and down a grassy field.
Thinking about it, I'm not very British. I don't even like tea which apparently just strips me of my nationality straight away.
Thankfully I've managed to find out how to mask my IP address on my laptop so we've been able to keep up with all our favour BBC shows. Luther, Call The Midwife, Doctor Who, Sherlock. We've stayed up to date on all our British faves.
A man from Northern USA said to my family the other day that you can always spot a Brit because they'll be the ones wearing socks on the beach. Usually black. True to his word my dad was wearing socks, only they were white.
I haven't worn socks since I got here. I'm really failing on the whole British thing I believe.