My index finger became one with the biro

Exam Diary/Seamus Conboy: Twelve thousand words in three and a bit hours. That's what history took from me yesterday.

That's a respectable thesis, right there. By the time I got to Gladstone my arm had gone into spasm. By Cumann na nGael my index finger had become one with the biro. There was smoke coming off the page as I launched into the question on fascism. That was without doubt my toughest physical challenge to date.

French yesterday was a walk in the park in comparison. Being from a Gealscoil I had to answer some of the sections in Irish, which makes for an interesting cocktail of languages. Do I have three souls?

Is true translation really possible when a language carries so much of its people, their struggles and triumphs? Will I still care when the exams are over and I'm sitting on a yacht in the Mediterranean.

Not bloody likely, comme on dit.

And now I have reached a strange and pretty pass. I have exactly six days off before my physics exam. In that time I have the whole course to cover, I have two hurling matches to play, at least one party to attend and, crucially, a whole lot of nothing to do.

I think I will start the nothing today. A good start is half the work. If I continue doing nothing right through tomorrow, by Friday I should be finished. Then I can start physics. No, hang on - by Friday most of my friends will be finished their exams and it would be rude not to join them in their revelry on Friday night. And possibly on Saturday afternoon.

The forecast is good. It may turn into an all-nighter. I couldn't leave early - it would not be polite.

On Sunday it will definitely be physics all the way. After the lie-in. And the match. And possibly a spot of nothing. By Sunday night I'll need to watch a bit of telly.

Then comes Monday. According to my timetable, I have an exam that day. Never mind.

What did physics ever bring to my life? Time and pressure, that's all.