Like all adults with a job and dealing with the regular banalities of life – bills, forgotten dentist appointments, missed flights – I still find Leaving Certificate season anxiety inducing. Because columnists are show-offs by nature, I like exams more than most. And yet, there was something that felt peculiarly malign about those two weeks in June 13 years ago: the timetable was dense, the stakes vertiginous and the weather taunting. There was also rather a lot to memorise.

It is a cliche to complain of exam dreams, following you around years after the fact. Nevertheless, there it is: Maths, paper two, something to do with triangles . . . before I am bolt upright in the middle of the night, slowly remembering I write about food and culture and politics for a living. My grasp of triangles might be remedial but that cannot hurt me now – I don’t think. If someone tells you they no longer suffer the occasional exam dream, they are telling you a lie.

With all that said, I remain full of praise for the Leaving Cert system – believing it to be of considerably greater value than its UK counterpart, the A-levels. At this time of year, I see all the hand-wringing articles and letters about all the teenagers struggling with the pressures and breadth and scope of this particular exam. And yes, I am sympathetic. But my greatest criticism........

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