Sadly, chaps and chapesses, I don't think I'm quite going to make it to the 200th post. This, by the way, is number 193.

I recovered from yesterday's Aloa by strolling down to the end of year 'do' that was kindly provided by our head of English, which was a fine going down bash, and plenty to eat and drink, with sparkling conversation a-plenty. At the end, though, when most had made for their beds, your correspondent found himself once again as the meagre filling in a doctoral sandwich, endeavouring to keep up with the pace as we journeyed through Shakespeare's works and the writings of many other celebrated authors, before philosophising (well, you do, don't you, when one is trying to remain afloat in a veritable ocean of erudition) about things various. I knew my place, of course, and demoted myself to the position of court jester, telling a couple of faintly amusing anecdotes, at which the doctored ones were kind enough to emit loud guffaws of appreciative laughter, causing one such almost to choke on his Gruyere.

Tonight has been just another night, really. Everyone's seemed in good spirits (as my housemaster said to me as I returned through the window of the prefects' room in 1970, after a perfetcly splendid evening in the fine city of Bath), jammy dodgers were plentiful - and I don't just mean the ones who tried to skip showering - and there was an air of decent happiness from within and without. Lots of pings and pongs (the latter from the ones who got away with not showering), no telly because it's not telly night, but pleasant convo in the clubhouse, and a thoroughly pleasant evening all round.

So yes: all is well here tonight. As a French oral candidate once said to our head of mod lang, 'C'est tout, really'.

Bonne nuit.