I've just received my 13 year old son's school report Something of a Curate's Egg. There was the usual blah blah from the teachers but his Physics master at Leeds Grammar School was a welcome echo from ye olde days when teachers could actually write with wit and insight. Suffice it to say my son's metier is not, alas, science (could be my genes here, I well remember my Chemistry master throwing, in utter frustration, a blackboard eraser at me for keeping up an unending stream of chat during his lectures about potassium crystals, guess he couldn't do that now), but his teacher refuses to give him up as a bad job and signed the report off as saying "I remain afflicted by hope". Well done Mr Jolly. So do I.

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