Exam Diary/Oisín O'Reilly: The school yard this morning reminded me of the tote queue at Leopardstown Race course.

Everyone had backed their Irish poet the night before, and we stood around trading dead certs like so many clueless Grand National punters.

Of course, no one had a rashers. I backed the wrong "file" anyway.

I wasn't the only one. I couldn't get over the exodus from the exam hall after the requisite half-hour elapsed. One guy left on the dot of 30 minutes.

Two more were gone before the hour was up. By the final bell there were only a handful left in the hall. The lure of the weekend was just too strong, I guess.

I am already thinking about bigger matters myself - a march against anti-social behaviour orders tomorrow. It won't take much to loosen my tongue as months of repressed energy starts bubbling to the surface once again.

The Minister for Justice will hear a roar from Parnell Square that will turn his blood cold. After that, who knows? A little social behaviour may be in order.

I've gathered eight potential revellers and I know I can bag eight more. Any fewer and we'll feel self-conscious about going on a bender in the middle of the Leaving.

Sunday will see me back at the maths notes for Monday's paper 2. By then I will be in the shadow of the Leaving's darkest day, business and history on Wednesday.

It will no doubt be the longest Wednesday of my life.

No Irish Times journalist will be as prolific as I will be on that day. As the last of the old history boffins I will produce five essays in three hours.

Next year's Leaving Certs, with their new-fangled right-on syllabus, will probably spend their history exam weaving wicker models of the GPO or singing Russian wartime folk songs.

I swear I'm not jealous.

After Wednesday I have eight days to go until my last exam, which is music.

For those of you who were not savvy enough to take music as a Leaving Cert subject, you may be unaware that you can't actually study for it, at least not in the conventional sense.

It's all about appreciation and composition, you see. I will spend my eight days appreciating music while composing little ditties about how sweet it is to be nearly finished school for ever.

All my nasty Leaving Cert nightmares from now on will merely be indicators of stress of the type brought on by jobs, mortgages, relationships and kids of my own.

After this week I reckon it will all be child's play.

In interview with Louise Holden. Oisín O'Reilly is a student of Ashbourne Community School