I am staring at a finely printed sheet of paper and trying not to let the bad feelings seep in.
This sheet is all my childhood Sunday-night feelings of dread come at once. It is
humiliation and "could do better" and "pay attention now".
I only have myself to blame. A few months ago over dinner Eddie announced that, in
English, they were experimenting with food writing. "I have to come up with metaphors.
Give me a metaphor about this pizza," he said. "I don't think I should do your homework
for you," I said. He raised his eyebrows. "You can't think of one, can you?" This is what
happens if you feed and educate your children. They grow up, become clever and
remorselessly take the mickey out of you.
He was right. I didn't. On the spot I couldn't think of a single food metaphor worth
dragging out and slapping on the table. And so the memories of homework came flooding
back: of long nights of carefully planned idleness ruined by the imposition of essays and
work sheets, of tasks flunked, of a chilly emptiness at the thought of the way my efforts
would be received by teachers. The fact is that I was not especially academic. On the
results sheet, my grades lined up like a line of Pac-Men1 doing a conga.

A Jay Rayner has good memories of his time in school.
B Jay Rayner was happy to help his son with his homework.
C As a boy, Jay Rayner worried about handing in his
homework on Monday mornings.
D Jay Rayner could not think of a food metaphor to help
his son.
E Jay Rayner was very able in school.
F As a boy, Jay Rayner did not enjoy doing homework.
G Jay Rayner looked forward to receiving feedback from
his teachers.
H Jay Rayner makes a joke to cover up his own real exam
results

My son turned one last week. The day marked the
end of what has been both the longest and
shortest year of my life. From the instant he was
born, it’s felt as if my son has always been part of
this family. I don’t mean that in an obnoxious,
heart-eyed, this-was-always-meant-to-be way.
I simply mean that I haven’t slept for a year and I
don’t really know how time works any more. Whole
years have passed in some of the afternoons I’ve
spent with him lately. Entire galaxies have been
born and thrived and withered and died in the time
it’s taken him to eat a mouthful of porridge.
How is he one already? First he was born, and then I blinked, and now in his place is a
little boy who can walk and has teeth and knows how to switch off the television at
precisely the most important moment of anything I ever try to watch. It’s not exactly the
most unprecedented development in all of human history – child gradually gets older – but
it’s the first time I’ve seen it close up. It’s honestly quite hard to grasp.

A The writer’s son has just had his second birthday.
B It took a while for the writer to feel close to his son after he
was born.
C The writer has not slept very well over the last year.
D It takes a long time for the boy to eat his porridge.
E The writer thinks that his son has grown quickly.
F The boy has not yet learned to walk.
G The writer’s son knows how to switch off the television.
H The writer finds it easy to grasp the idea of his son getting
older.

It was still dark. We had at least three hours of darkness to go before daybreak and, as
always, I had the sunrise shift. The ocean had continued to build, with an ever-increasing
wind that was gusting at 40 knots. The swell had grown and conditions were becoming
increasingly frenzied. I began to feel vulnerable again. If we can just make it to daybreak, I
thought, it will be easier to read the waves and prepare for the breakers.
Our boat was brand spanking new and bought straight
from the race organisers. It had coped with the seas we
had experienced thus far incredibly well. I rowed on,
worried by the deteriorating weather, and I thought of
my wife, back at home. I longed to be with her and away
from this intimidating ocean. As I rowed, a barely
perceptible blue hue appeared on the skyline.

A It would be dark for another three hours.
B Ben usually rowed the sunrise shift.
C The waves were starting to calm down.
D It was the first time during the race that Ben felt he was at risk.
E If it were light, Ben thought he would be able to judge the
danger.
F Ben felt homesick.
G Ben was enjoying this early morning shift.
H There was no sign of daybreak.

The col was exposed and windy. Directly beneath us the glacier we had walked up five
days ago curved away towards the crevasses which led to base camp, nearly 3 000 feet
below us. It would take many long lowerings, but it was all downhill, and we had lost the
sense of hopelessness that had invaded us at the ice cliff.

A The climbers were sheltered from the wind.
B The glacier was higher up the mountain.
C They had been on the mountain for at least five days.
D Base camp was more than 3000 feet below them.
E Joe thought they would make it back to base camp quickly.
F There were no more uphill sections to climb.

G The climbers were feeling more positive now than they were before.
H On the ice cliff, the climbers had felt overwhelmed by despair.