Further apologies, Followers, for there was no entry last night. At least, not on the Newton blog. And that's because Mr Porter was on the bridge last night, allowing my son and heir and me ( ...) to go ashore and stroll down to the point of entry at X'ian for un verre de vin ou deux. (Well, trois, actually.) So there we were, putting the world to rights with Gary, the proprietor of that particular staff room annexe, when we were joined by two colleagues who looked in severe need of watering. Tom was on cracking form, and couldn't resist the opportunity to squeeze his father's plastic further by inviting his former boss to mix him some exotic cocktail that he'd come across in the Orient and preparing his favourite Chinese dish. (She's called ...... no, that's just prep school humour.) (Although I have to say ..... )

The residents, according to Mr Porter, were all on good form, too - although the blessed boiler broke down again, causing all to take cold showers. I enquired as to whether they had been asked to conjugate Latin verbs while under the freezing flow, but it seems that Mr Porter was particularly generous and excused such classical orations. (And in case you're wondering, yes, the private side is on the same system. And no, I didn't recite the periphrastic subjunctive of some deponent verb while I froze this morning - although if you'd heard my various utterances you might have imagined that I did.) Anyway, the local heating engineers have now rectified the problem, and normal service has been resumed.

A lovely evening tonight, as I gaze down Summerfield Road - from the bridge. I can see Mr Aldred wheeling a pedal tractor down the road, accompanied by Mr Corry. It's amazing what you see from here!