I could have written about the Voyager School that I visited, as a guest speaker to the Year 11 kids about to head out on work experience for the first time. This school is mind-blowing, so vast and modern, yet so well planned and impressive. It gives you a real feeling of excellence, and it was a pleasure to be invited down to say a few words at their school assembly.

Another potential subject was the beautiful surprise my Hereward FM co-host Abby arranged for me. As it was back-to-school week, she'd tracked down my best buddy from my school days (Leigh Gracie) and re-united him with me via an on-air phone call.

After an embarrassing first few moments, we swapped some great memories, and he made me laugh when I asked him if he was still tall, dark and handsome. "Er, I'm still tall," he replied.

But the subject I want to talk about this week, the thing that touched me most, to the point of tears actually, was my little girl starting her reception year at primary school. Seeing her try on her over-sized uniform the night before left me feeling sick with nerves, but also tearful with pride at how grown up she looked. It only seems like yesterday when she was a newborn, and now whoosh, she's at school!

The honour fell to me pick her up at the end of her first morning. As I peered through her classroom window, trying to pick out her face from the 29 other sprogs, a thought struck me. Every one of those kids looked way too young, all of them so tiny and lost, sitting on the floor looking up at teacher. And yet I know that in a blink of an eye they will all be doing their GCSEs and I will be an old man. Or an older man. It's so depressing.

She's taken to the classroom brilliantly by the way, full of confidence and genuine excitement. To my eyes though, she just looks way too small and vulnerable to be left all day in school, taking instructions from someone she hardly knows.

As your little ones enter education, it's like a new huge phase of your life starting. The baby days are gone for ever, as your beautiful innocent children will soon be wired to iPods, wearing hoodies and terrorising the elderly, on their fast track to adulthood.

My own little girl may now only be four years old, but she will soon be wearing mascara and lippie, listening to rock groups who make your ears bleed, and before I know it, there will be boys banging down our front door, demanding to see her.

And I guess like any father of a little girl, that's the bit that I'm dreading most!