I always thought homework was like acne and greasy hair, something you grew out of once you passed puberty.

But last week I went back to school - quite voluntarily - and was given an essay to write at home.

For the past six days I have been intending to do it, to settle down with no distractions and produce something that will leave my classmates open- mouthed with admiration and the teacher bowled over by my brilliance.

Yet what have I done? I have, I'm afraid, done precisely nothing and this evening (yes, we're talking adult education classes here) I must return to the school and all I'll have to offer will be a pathetic excuse to explain why I'm standing there empty handed. "Please Miss . . ."

Suddenly I feel 12 years old again, all that's lacking are the spots, the adolescent scowl and the nametags on my clothes.

To make matters worse, I haven't even thought of an excuse, pathetic or otherwise, yet. Not that I lack experience in the subject. During my schooldays, more of my time, effort and creativity was channelled into homework avoidance strategies than was ever put into academic work.

And I was good at it. Various non-existent pets were held responsible for the destruction of my painstakingly produced efforts - particularly maths and chemistry papers - while mysterious household fires consumed my French grammar and gallons of water from burst pipes swept all, including my history and geography homework, before it. This showed, if little else, a healthy imagination.

But we're no longer irresponsible children, are we? So c'mon, let's be sensible about this. OK, I haven't done my homework but what's the worst that's likely to happen to me?

I can't be expelled, I won't be given detention or lines or have to stand in a corner with my hands on my head.

My classmates won't regard me with contempt and as for my teacher, well, unlike those who supervised my education 40 years ago, she'll probably smile understandingly and tell me not to worry. She is, after all, dealing with a responsible, tax paying, all grown up (actually not all that far off from pensionable age) adult.

Still, I can't help feeling nervous, and rather disappointed - in myself.

Let's be honest, the person I'm really letting down by being such a wimp is me. The time I'm wasting is my own.

And why? All I have to do is produce a thousand-word essay by 7pm tonight and then I'll be able to face my peers again, my self-esteem restored.

The more I think about it, the more I realise there's only one thing to do and that I'd better get started straight away. Here goes then . . . Dear Teacher, I'm sorry to have to tell you that Vanora has been unable to do her homework this week as she is suffering from a painful lack of enthusiasm. This has caused her considerable distress and adversely affected her ability to think or write. She did start the work you set but while she was in the kitchen pouring herself a glass of soothing Southern Comfort, the dog ate her notepad. Please be patient. I'm sure she'll become motivated, given time and a few harsh words.

Yours truly, Her mother PS The dog is now fully recovered.