Off to my last exam shortly. Not keen on afternoon exams really, as they leave you with a whole gaping morning to fill before you can spill the contents of your head onto paper. ‘Spill’ here is perhaps not the appropriate word. In my case, when sitting under the ticking clock in the exam room, the words I want seem to freeze in the pipes of my memory and I have to chip them out with an icepick. I feel sorry for the examiners who have to read these stuttering, repetitive accounts.
Naturally, as soon as I exit the room, all the words I wanted undergo a spring-like thaw and swoosh around in positive torrents as I gaze out of the window on the train home. Next week, they will all have evaporated as a new river of information floods in.