Occasionally, and I mean very occasionally, I find myself considering what other job I might have done to earn a crust had I not fallen into teaching. The answer, which may surprise you, is that I suspect I'd have made quite a reasonable spy. Of course, I'm not talking about the glamorous James Bond variety. I have in mind one of the seedier specimens in a grimier than usual Le Carre novel. The type that meet a bad end.
Self-knowledge is generally regarded as a good thing, but really it can be quite depressing.
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