At school, Im constantly being pulled out for all sorts of competitions. One day, they volunteered me for the chemistry Olympiad. I took it as a tribute to my intellect.
When my mum found out, shebeing a chemist herself and bearing a rather distinguished surname before meeting my dadacted surprisingly down to earth. Normally, she laughs in this very elegant, refined way. But this time, she spilled her tea and burst into laughter, absolutely roaring.
That was the first and last time I ever saw her laugh like that. After that, I was sent off to a district physics Olympiad. And then another one, and another. It began to dawn on me that the school administration was, in reality, routinely shipping me out of the building to give other children a fair chance to concentrate on their lessons.
I wasnt the only one drafted for the biology Olympiad. They paired me with Tony Wilkinson. He was as versed in biology as I was; we could both spot a deer from a tortoise at a hundred paces. When our biology teacher learnt who was representing our school this time, she almost went on hunger strike. But theyll be out of the school all day, the headteacher and deputy must have reassured her.
Tony and I end up seated in a massive lecture hall with sixty other complete strangers. We’re handed one large, folded sheet each.
At that very moment, a woman at the lectern is delivering an inspiring speech. On her chest, a glass brooch the size of a fist catches the light. Her talk goes down well: main pointsnone of us are here by chance, theres a big life waiting for us ahead. So if you mess about or copy now, youll be unloading lorries for the rest of your life. Not that, she adds, theres anything wrong with thatwork like that is noble in its own way.
I glance around and tap the shoulder of the girl to my right. She blushes and lowers mascaraed eyelashes. Suddenly everyone else starts scribbling furiously. Tony is immediately anxious:
I dont get itwhat are we meant to do? What are we doing?
He genuinely thought wed been brought here for a glass of lemonade. Looking at the sheets contents, I realise the empty sections are meant for our answers. I pass this revelation on to Tony. The lady with the brooch tells me to calm down.
But where are the answers to look at? Tony asks me.
She asks, as if by chance, what school the two of usso very eager to reach for knowledgeare from. You soon learn you cant catch out someone whos been invited to tea with the local bobby. I reply, 172nd. She jots it down on both my sheet and Tony’s. She chews on her glasses and notes something in her pad as well.
Were from 175th, Tony whispers back.
Shush, idiot, I mutter.
Tony boots me, but lands his foot on the chair of the girl in front. She turns her head around like an owl. She sizes us up as harmless and simply asks us not to do it again. I remember her freckles.
Whats your problem? Tony mutters at her. Sit still and pack it in.
After this, the woman gives the girl one last warning, and the girl begins to cry. To comfort her, the woman, in a motherly way, tells her to rely on her own wit. If she does, shell manage just fine. Teachers used to be proper persuaders: the girl wipes her tears, and it actually starts going well for her.
Im stuck. Its impossible to recall the birth and death years of Carl Linnaeus and make subtle eyes at the eyelash girl at the same time. Either Linnaeus, or the eyelashes. If I tried both, I ended up with Carl Linnaeus with mascara. Which feels deeply unsettling. Whatever sort of chap Linnaeus was, it wasnt right.
How many types of fish live in the Thames? Tony asks.
Nine hundred and twelve, I reply.
Are you sure?
I wouldnt joke about that.
My answer about Linnaeus was written in such a way that you could squeeze it into a childrens biography and it would still be right, provided the marker didnt mind a bit of bluster.
Do you want to go to the cinema? I wrote on a slip of paper which I folded carefully and flicked to the eyelash girl. Her reply comes a minute later: I already have a boyfriend in beautifully neat handwriting. Im still amazed at how girls never just say yes outright. For goodness sake! I had no intention of disrupting whatever romance she had. I simply wanted to offer a new friendship on top. I was already mates with two girls who, themselves, were mates. The lads dating those girls never lost a minutes sleep. The only one put out was my dad, who regularly counted out pounds for my pocket money.
Is he better than me?, I wrote and sent it over. Yes, came back. Then why isnt he at the Olympiad? The girl was clearly stumped. I get that.
You havent muddled up the Thames with the English Channel, have you? the brooch woman inquired quietly, passing Tony for the third time. She hoped for crib notes in our area, but for that, you needed at least a nodding acquaintance with the subject. Tony and Iwell, we were clean.
He just sat there with the expression of a child who clearly needs medical help, though that was his standard look. The woman simply didnt know him yet.
Whats she after about the Channel and all that? Tony elbowed me, ruining my concentration. Not a single question about the sea in here.
Whos Who with Sean Connery, I scribbled and sent off. No! came her reply, along with a doodle of a laughing face with pigtails and ears. Bad movethose ears were even more alluring than the eyelashes. Todays emojis just dont do it. I was nearly hooked, but Tony interrupted.
Quick question, he began in a businesslike way, whats the con-for-mation the level thingy of hair protein keratin? Is keratin the answer? Sounds a bit foreign, mate. Do squirrels have red hair?
I confirmed. Then after thinking for a moment, I added, In winter, its grey.
Tony dutifully wrote down Ginger. In winter, squirrel is grey. He could fit seamlessly into any conversation.
The freckle-faced girl leaned back and whispered, Alpha-helix.
Where? I look around.
Level of conformationalpha-helix, she explained, then turned away.
I glanced at her ears. Equally enchanting. I scrawled the answer, tore off a bit of scrap, and wrote, Want to go to the cinema? Somethings got to work, surely
Yes. flicked onto my desk.
A minute later, another note from the right: All right, lets go.
Existential crisis. Two girlseyelashes on one side, freckles aheadwere after my undivided attention. At that precise point, I was faced with: Whats a baby rhinoceros called? A difficult question when two ladies demand exclusivity at once. Rhinocerosling? Rhinosprout? Calf? Tony Junior? Eyelashes to one side, freckles in front. I gave up and wrote, Baby rhinoceros.
The one with freckles and I managed until winter, when the squirrels grew grey coats. The eyelash girl never turned up at the cinema. The cunning of women, honestly.
Meanwhile, Id landed second place at the biology Olympiad and got a certificate, although it took two whole months for them to chase me down. At the 172nd school, they only found one pupil with my surnamea child in the first year. When asked by the headteacher, How did you end up at the Olympiad? the poor kid burst into tears and promised never again. Eventually, they found me.
Turns out, in that whole gathering of future scientists, I was the only one who could correctly name a baby rhinoceros. Scientists to this day still havent agreed on whether Tony Junior is correct. And thats how I breached the world of science, became one of their own, and, as you can see eventually made my exit.
