I just have to tell you this!

You see, because we're at 'that' stage of term now, with feelings running pretty high, I became (almost) embroiled in an altercation with a colleague. Professionalism kicked in, of course, as you'd expect in a quality place like this. I was so irritated, though, that I composed a fairly acid e-mail to my adversary, but, just as I was about to click on 'Send', I thought better of it. Instead, because I wanted someone, at least, to be aware of my irritation, I wrote in the subject-line, 'Failed Exocet', and sent it to Our Leader, simply to make him aware of the 'situation'. Honestly, we're worse than the boys when it comes to immaturity, sometimes. Anyway, he kindly replied, with the words 'Don't worry, I have my Rapier Missile Interceptor at the ready'.

Stupidly, I had left the screen in my form room on 'Computer 1', which meant that any e-mailed messages (or anything else) could be seen by anyone! Well, you can imagine, can't you. Members of 3S, having been made aware of the aforementioned cyberspatial dialogue, are now utterly convinced that Mr BT and I are hatching a plan to take over the world. I have not disabused them of this notion - and now you know what he'll be doing after he leaves. Not a word.

Friday nights are non-TV nights - in fact the only ones that are are Wednesdays and Saturdays - but they are Radio nights. There's a pretty good 'hi-fi' system in the common room, and upon entering the room, I came across a Newtonian 'trying to find a decent station'. I told him to leave it to me, and whizzed the dial (see how old I really am?) down to Radio 1 and turned the volume up 'considerably'. Well, (a) the station-seeker was amazed that a geriatric should have even heard of Radio 1, and (b) that he should have the nerve to turn the volume up that far, when he knew (but I didn't) that You-Know-Who was only metres away.

"Er - who turned the radio up that far?" came the stentorian tones from the lower corridor. Now, I've been in that situation before: remember the chocolate and the dog? - but, tempting though it was to stride out of the common via the main entrance and leave my admirers in the lurch, such a lack of integrity was not required. And anyway, how could I?

"Mr Cheater did, Mrs Cheater."

I think I'm going to change my name to Basil. As I said, worse than the boys.