I certainly can't ever complain that my life is dull. During the course of this weekend alone my conversations have ranged from a consideration of Calvinism versus Arminanism (with 5L in their English lesson) to a fascinating discussion tonight, with a group of Newtonians, as to whether X-Factor is one word or two. (And to think that I thought I'd heard the last of the wretched programme.) Lest you should find yourselves wondering about the outcome of such intellectual deliberations, I hasten to tell you that neither of the conundra was resolved. (I just stuck that plural in for Mr Bryan, as I know he'll be reading it before his Tuesday night duty slot. And to show off, of course.)

I had an organ-focused morning, by which I mean that I played for two services: one here, and then another at the church at the end of the road, the latter of which, being a non-conformist establishment, was rather different from the former, although both have hymns and readings, even if the SF singing outdoes that of the United Reformed Church, Summertown.

I took a party of Newtonians to Pendon Railway Museum this afternoon: they were delightful company and showed a lively interest in all that was on display. The set-up is excellent, and there seems to be some requirement that all the guides should be of indeterminate age and have beards. Particularly the men. On the way back, I was entertained by diaolgue behind my left ear that went along the following lines (Oh, ha ha. Trains; lines?)

"Don't you love it when you grow your own vegetables? It's fantastic when you pull a carrot out of the ground and think 'Ah! I really grew that on my own!"

I couldn't agree more. And I'd better stop there or I'll lose track of my train of thought.

Choo choo.