After football I sat outside our room because I was too hot to go straight inside, shirt wet down the back and my legs still wanting to move even when I had stopped. I had run plenty without doing much useful with the ball, chale, at least nobody can accuse me of resting. When I finally washed, the water over my head felt better than the whole match. Then the hunger came properly, not the small one I ignore between lectures, and I ate slowly because the food was hot. My thighs are heavy now when I stand up, but sitting by the window with a full stomach feels good. I was going to read my notes and have been on the same line for some time.

The girl from Wa asked if I was always this quiet or only when she sat beside me. I laughed too loudly and said I was concentrating, which would have sounded better if I could answer her next question about the lecture. Since then I keep feeling happy small, then embarrassed, then happy again, very efficient use of an afternoon. She wasn't being unkind. She waited for me after class and we talked about the food at home instead of soil for once. I wanted to tell the boys in the room but they would turn one conversation into wedding preparations. So I said the lecture was good. For once that wasn't the main reason I came back smiling.

My father asked whether the soil test could tell him everything wrong with the field. I started explaining what we had measured, then heard myself listing things as if the list answered him. It doesn't tell us everything. I know that in class, but at home I want each thing I've learned to be useful immediately, especially with him looking so carefully at the notebook. On campus I wrote his question beside the result instead of adding another confident answer. I keep thinking about how he knows which patch stays wet without any kit at all. I want to understand how the two kinds of information fit together, not just come home with a number and expect it to win.