Greetings again, Followers. When I signed off last night, I imagined, stupidly, that I would enjoy a good night of contented slumber and awake refreshed, ready for an eagerly-awaited Long Leave. Yeah, right. Behold Mrs C and me, then (and yes, once again I'd like to stress that 'me' is the correct pronoun in that context, lest you should be worrying that your sons' English tuition is being delivered by an ignoramus), at half past midnight, dressing-gown clad, as we scrabbled around on the floor outside Curlew dorm, screwdrivers in hand (and I don't mean cocktails), endeavouring to de-bleep the fire door's persistent and repetitive call. I was not a happy bunny. Nevertheless, this is Newton, and there was a funny side. (When I think about it now.)

As I did my best to avail myself of my benorsic capabilities (which amount to just above zero on the capable scale), I stuck the screwdriver into the socket with as much force as I could manage, and twisted, imagining all kinds of malevolent thoughts, about which the less told the better. Whilst struggling with this confounded door alarm, which continued its siren calling throughout my attempts to shut the thing up and remove it from the door upon which it was attached, one Curlew resident, who was thoroughly enjoying the sight of his lodgeparents in such a submissive state, beamed happily down from his comfortable top bunk and opined,

"Do you know? This is great entertainment!"

Well yes, I'm sure it was. Fortunately, at that moment, the things just came away in my hands, guv, honest, and it was Mrs C who rescued the said member of the audience from being rendered senseless by a bleeping door alarm, as she deftly removed it from my grasp and chucked it into the bushes, whereupon its bleeping bleeping let out a final, dying gasp - and ceased its unholy row.

Then we went back to bed.

Oh yes, one more thing before I disappear: this morning was, according to Mrs C, one of those 'everything' mornings as far as laundry was concerned. I continue to fail to get my head around that concept, and I expressed my opinion to one of our more practical residents. Of course, he had the answer to my belief that the female understanding of the word 'everything' is very different from the male appreciation of the word. I mean, to me, 'everything' means 'everything'. Towels and flannels included. It doesn't, apparently. So the suggestion was made, by my conversational partner, that I should compose a 'Male to Female Dictionary'. What a brilliant idea.

Have a great Long Leave.