"Morning all! It's towels and flannels this morning!" was my cheery greeting as I switched on the lights at 7.10am. I received the customary grunts that translate as 'Good morning, sir' and the like. (As far as I know. They may well translate in other ways, too ....) But hark! The sound of real words landed upon my ears!

"I thought you didn't 'do' laundry', was the gentle riposte.

"I don't. It's just towels and flannels'.

Grunt of acknowledgement and head replaced on pillow.

So that was that. I sat, with my customary mug of coffee, watching towels and flannels of every colour being flung into the (three, of course, just to confuse me) baskets. But I'm wise to that one now, so I can offer oracular advice about what goes where if I see anyone look flummoxed.

7.30 arrived and it coccurred that the three baskets were not as full as they should be. Experience told me that there were still recalcitrant Newtonians at large. I made my way to the dorms.

"Right, you lot!" said I, doing my Mr Mackay ('Porridge', remember?) impression, "OUt of this dorm NOW! Five, four, three .... I'm thinking sweet rations ... ..."

Now if that had been Blighter B, I would been pretty scared. Smiles of knowingness and gentle repartee (not too much, because they never quite know if things are going to get serious) accompanied the degree of haste. (Which was hardly unsurpassable.)

"Twoooooooooooooo ........... one ................ "

I was going to start on fractions, but with my amathematical ability I'd probably come a cropper, so I abandoned that plan. The door slammed shut with a merry 'Have a nice day, sir' - and another day began.