I must confess that I had it rather easy last night as far as Newton was concerned, as I was giving an organ recital at a church in Warwickshire and didn't arrive back at the ranch until the Saturday night film was in full swing. Still, all seemed to be very calm upon my arrival and I was pleased to learn from Mrs C that all had gone well in the pre-film festivities. I'm sure that sweet rations had little to do with that. Judicious timing on my part (i.e.: ensuring that the recital lasted no more than an hour and ten minutes, a quick bit of socialising with the (very appreciative) audience over a welcome cup of tea and a steady 70mph (of course) down the M40 enabled me to stride imperiously back through a very peaceful Newton at ten past nine, de-suit myself and settle down to a rather good episode of 'Casualty' while the boys watched the film.(Mrs C and I are fanatical about Casualty and Holby. I wonder whether Dr Hannah will acquiesce to Mr Jordan's demand!)

The boys all went to bed happily and ready for sleep, and we heard not a peep from them until this morning, when my own morning rounds (you see, being a Casualty junky has its effects!) went succesfully.
"Ah, now let's have a look," I found myself saying, looking at the clipboard, "you're off on a credit, aren't you? Miss Ruthie, can you ensure that he has a decently tied tie and hair combed, please?"
"Yes, Mr Cheater."
"Now, who do we have here? Ah yes, now, you're not going until 11. Just check that he collects his jacket, could you?"

I'm wasted in Newton, you know. I should be an actor.

And if I could type the word Casulaty without having to correct it four times, I'd tell you which programme I'd be in.