Honestly. Sometimes I just can't win here, you know. All but three residents made it back to lodge on time, and were happily showering, playing games, out in the garden or engaged in some appropriate activity and all was well. But where, I wondered, where the rest? I went out onto the drive and waited. Mrs C, who was awaiting their P and S for laundry purposes (I'm sure there must be a great word for that, but I'm afraid I'm not aware of its existence), had advised that I should give short shrift to the aforementioned recidivists, so I was psyching myself up for the experience.

The whole episode reminded me of 'Journey of the Magi', but with specific variations. For a start, they didn't have much of a cold coming, apart from the one who'd been sprayed with a garden hose over in the gardens, allegedly, and their reception was a pretty hot one. I was informed that they had lost track of time (I suppose you do if you're on the back of a camel - in the snow - and the only helpful timepiece you have is a moving star) and were not doing anything more than a bit of harmless watering. Of plants. Er, no. Of each other. I went into overdrive.

"This is the second night running you've been late! Where on earth do you think you've been?!"

(Daft question: they'd already told me where they'd been.)

"You've been keeping Mrs Cheater and Miss Chloe waiting again ...... " on and on went the fascinating discourse on why they should be more aware of time, etc., etc., etc. Anyway, our little triumvirate looked suitably chastened and went off to shower themselves. (As if they needed it, after what they'd been up to with the hose.)

I went into the laundry, where jammy dodgers were, I imagined, awaiting consumption. Fat chance.

Alice C, 17, currently a gapper at another prep school, so therefore knows all there is to know about handling prep school children: "Did you really need to get that cross? They're only Year 6s, you know."

Mrs C, (age undisclosed) not known for her tolerance of tardy behaviour: "Why did you have to get so cross with them? They're only little."

Miss Chloe, 18, SF gapper and knows which side her bread's buttered: "I thought it was great. I remember the first time I got really cross ......... " - yes, thank you, Chloe.

You'd think the residents would be petrified of the ogre who's pounding out this bloglog, woul you not? Well, they're not, it seems. At 8.45pm tonight, I executed (no, don't worry) one of my 'silent reading megadecibelic cries. Expecting Curlew dorm to be scattering to the bathroom, I walked in to the dorm. Had even one of them moved? Had they heck as like. I told them, nicely, to get a move on and walked upstairs to Kingfisher, in which lay one of the tardy trio.

"Sir, " he smiled from his bed, "Sorry about being late earlier."

!!!

Goodnight.