Daydreaming through the high window at the centuries-old ash I wish I were its twin - oblivious and carefree, and invisible, like the stultifying air in this class. I return to my daydream. The ash has been here longer than the master, longer than the school, aloof and condescending, swaying in indifference. I wish again for two trees, side-by-side where once was one. One pupil less and one more ash. No-one would notice.