When I wake up in the morning, am I still me?

I'm not going to provide an answer to that question, which was on a trial Oxford entrance exam paper I did in the sixth form. I have no idea what I wrote.

I was reminded of it though by an exchange in the Co-op this evening which confirms to some degree my ancient sense of identity. As I left the till, the man behind it urged me to cheer us on at the football.

"Is there a match?" I asked.

I was informed that there was an important England game. I had no idea.