I've decided to start compiling a memoir about my three months with The Prince's Trust team programme. I was toying with the idea months back - hell, even before the course was finished - but yesterday, in a moment of otherwise idleness, I started scribbling down, in no particular order, stuff that I remember happening throughout the course. What we did, what I got up to 'outside the classroom' with my new-found compadres, why, how I felt about it... and so on and so forth.

The end result, I hope, will be a wholly honest and comprehensive recount of my experiences. Leaving out nothing except the things I know for a fact that people would be uncomfortable with me divulging - the really personal stuff.

It should be an interesting story to do, especially in this day and age, because it shows thirteen young people with different problems of varying degrees working for a whirlwind three months to become better people. I'm hoping to convey the processes that we all went through together, and the thoughts and feelings and changes that I went through personally. My best moments and my worst, the good times and the bad, the difficult bits and the easy, and my own thoughts of 'where are my problems? Do I really need this course?'.

I seem to have recalled about 40-50% of the stuff on my own, but there are huge gaps in the chronological plan I've been scribbling up, particularly in the induction week (week 1), the community project (week 3 for prep, 4/5 for the actual project) and next steps (week 9).

A lot of the earlier stuff should be found on my journal. I definitely remember writing a lot about weeks 1, 3, 4 and 5. Residential got not a single entry because I was denied computer access all that week. I could also contact Vicky and Tim about the possibility of getting my project folder or having a chat about what we did.

It's deadline day today at the Star, and I've got all of my urgent stories out of the way. So far I've been doing the aforementioned planning, trawling through what documents I have to hand, e-mail archives and pure memories in my head to piece together my experiences of Team 46.

Last week I was handed my first ever book review to do. The book's set to be released on June 30. It's called 'A Father for Daisy' and it's by Karen Abbott, who's written dozens of titles that have either 'love', 'heart' or 'romance' in their titles, if not all three. If I recall correctly it's a period romance set up Rivington way, and the cover... well, let's just say it looks like an immaculate version of your typical charity-shop romance novel as read by ladies no younger than sixty.

Maybe I'm being harsh. I suppose I am, talking like this about a book that I've not properly read. I've only perused, as you can tell, the cover, the title pages, that there 'books by this author' page, the blurb and the first couple of pages.

I'm not expecting to find it fantastic, though, if I'm honest. That kind of book isn't really my cup of tea. I'm more a Tetley fan.

The thing is, I've never been asked to write a review to be published before, if you discount that Lancashire Hotpots one that has yet to be done. I've written a few book reviews in my journal, and indeed a few things that could almost pass as music reviews (read: me gushing about this Caravan song or that Steve Hillage album) but on my journal I feel like I can say what the hell I want and by the way Marmite is awful stuff.

This is different. If I hate the book, can I be honest and rip it to shreds? Or do I have to lie and make it sound fabulous? You have to remember that this is a local paper, and even if I don't get a byline and my review winds up with a very angry author phoning up, they can demand to know who wrote the article and what then?

It's a conundrum, alright. Perhaps I should write two versions of the review; a nice one and an honest one. That's if I don't like the book, anyway. You never know; I could be amazed!

I should be going out with Jason tonight. We've both agreed that we should, after weeks of absence, go to the Jam Night at the Duke of Cambridge. You know... so that Anna can kill me for not being there.