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One of the worst things about school was the fact that books were kept under lock and key (subversive things, books!), and could only be read on high days and holidays with permission of the Mistress of Studies. But in the corner of the Study Hall there were some ancient volumes of Poetry, somehow overlooked. These I read and re-read, and to this day I can take pleasure in the odd verses that spring to mind, even on days when I've forgotten most other things - including where I've left my car keys.