Tom Sawyer has come, and, sadly, gone. Tonight was another triumph for all those involved - and thank you so much, all of you, for such lovely comments. It's always a bit flat when plays are over, but who knows, more seeds may have been sown during this term, and I really hope that all those involved will have been motivated to sign up for future productions. I am so grateful to one and all.

Don't you think 'Spooks' is an amazing series? I've just watched tonight's episode, and I have to say that I'm very glad that if security service work is anything like it's portrayed in the programme (which, I believe, it isn't, but it looks pretty realistic to me), then I'm pretty relieved that I said 'no' rather than 'yes', when I was invited to become a part of them in 1988. I don't doubt that you're sitting there, thinking that my storytelling penchant, if such it be, is getting the better of me. And you'd be right, my friends, if Diana hadn't been there at the time. A knock on the door at 11pm, a long, long discussion into the night and early morning, a conversation monitored by people listening in the car outside, and two tickets - which I held in my hand - for the United States, all pretty exciting stuff for a prep school teacher, believe me. Who were they? To be honest, I don't know. But asked I was, and how life would have changed for us both if I'd replied in the affirmative.

Of course, my children think I said 'yes'. Why on earth else would I go regularly to London, they ask, to 'National College of Music' board meetings? And why would I go to Cheltenham, the home of GCHQ, to 'examine' candidates in music at the University of Gloucester? How the imagination of the young works. As if I'd be doing anything other than that. Ridiculous. Isn't it.

I learnt last night that our blog is read regularly in Basra! Greetings to all out there, and how exciting to think that my humble ramblings are read - apparently with pleasure - almost every day!

And so to laundry. (No escape, I'm afraid.) Comments tonight ranged from 'It's not complicated in our house, sir; all you do is drop it into the laundry basket', to 'My dad hasn't got a clue. He once confused a washing machine for a tumble dryer and all the clothes got burnt'.

H'm. I know who I'm siding with! Sorry, with whom I'm siding.