I have often wondered how I would feel if a former pupil of mine were to become prime minister of this country. I have never experienced that feeling, but that is what has happened to a very good friend of mine tonight. He it was who taught Mr Cameron Latin when he was a pupil at Heatherdown in Ascot and, after a lengthy spell at 'another well known prep school in Oxford', he subsequently became the headmaster of a very successful prep school in the 1990s. More than that I will not divulge, because, despite the political antics of the past few days, it would not be, well, politic, for all kinds of reasons, for me to do so. I wish our new PM every success as he faces the many difficult challenges that lie ahead of him - and who knows, perhaps before I shuffle off this mortal coil I shall know just how proud and how rewarded my educational friend feels at this time. I enquired, rhetorically, of Mrs C, how we would feel if this were 20 years hence and - I won't actually mention the name I volunteered: I will simply tell you that it was the name of a current Fifth Year boy - had just emerged from his meeting with the Monarch. Who knows.

Back to Newton. I am absolutely delighted to tell you that, thanks to the extraordinary generosity of a Newtonian family - and great supporters of this blog, btw - an outside table tennis table will be arriving in the Newton garden on Friday. I will not, at this stage, mention the name of the family, but I may, subject to their agreement, in due course. I know that I speak for us all (sorry, I'm coming over all prime-ministerial now!) when I say a huge thank you to such kindness - and we're thrilled. Mrs C will be delighted, as she is a very strong player herself - as well as a terrific tennis player, a qualified badminton coach and a former cross-country runner for Somerset! (Those details emerged in an e-mail to our benefactors this morning, and it was suggested that such information might cause an interesting track all of their own, during these nightly trundlings along the main line.) I should add that Mr Bryan went into a semi-swoon and needed the smelling salts when he learnt that his own passion for the game would be realised on a regular basis. (He's on duty tonight, so presumably he no longer needs the salts.)

As for Mr Cameron, I have only one criticism: his appointment/investiture cut right across Holby. (More Bateman cartoons, no doubt.)