There's a green and yellow building: to the south of Rankine-Brown. From there on any calm, third term morning you can sense that the testing time is at hand. Examination count-down has begun.

The Air is heavy with industry and scholarship. The pained sounds of psychologtcal contortions are almost audible: Backs being forced to the wall, noses to the grindstone, socks to the up, stops to the out.

The time seems ripe for a physical educational sermon on the evergreen "all-work and no-play" text. It seems timely to invite students to find relief from their eleventh hour mental strains in some wholesome and enjoyable physical pursuit. It seems justifiable to point out to them the folly of unrelieved tension.

But then I wonder if I'm being one-eyed about it all. Is there in fact any recorded evidence that all work and no play make Jack any duller than he would have been if he'd done no work either? That line and thought seems complex. I'd better try another.