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Clapham omnibus

The exam is over. Please put down your pens

every summer and autumn I do a stint as an exam invigilator. I have to get three buses to travel to the college, which leaves me exhausted. But I quite like being knocked out in this rather painless fashion.

Being there is a quiet pleasure. It could be marketed as a therapy: the tonic of staring sternly into space, stealing a surreptitious glance at an attractive candidate, or just fixing one’s gaze on the luxuriant flowering of a tree outside the gym or the upstairs window.

I am declaring this work to the dole and, as you’re only allowed to…

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