67 pageviews on Wednesday night, apparently, with viewers from the Ukraine and Vietnam, or so my 'stats' tell me, but last night, when I rambled expansively and post-prandially (although 'prandium' means 'breakfast', so I've never quite managed to get my head around that one), only 19 loyal Followers tuned in. 19! Honestly, it's enough to make me enjoy sheet-change nights. (For that is what it was tonight, with duvetorial competence levels ranging from the extremely capable to the, well, erm, not so capable. Fortunately one particular resident has clearly inherited the paternal military genes and was able to ensure that several of his neighbours, having received a demonstration, looked sharp and lively.) 'Get that duvet inside out, you 'orrible little man! What are you?' he bark ....... No, he didn't really; he was very nice about it.

The evening got off to a rather bad start, though, I'm afraid, as a handful of residents decided that it would be 'great fun' to arrive within the environs of Newton a little earlier than usual. Unfortunately for them, they overlooked the fact that the environs of their own lodge are also the environs of Mayfield, where the Director of Boarding resides. Thus, their particularly vocal chase games caused Mrs Director of Boarding to come to Newton and inform your correspondent that such decibelic excess was unaccetable and to enquire as to what I was going to do about it.

What I did about it was to open the (locked, at that stage) Newton door, and appear pompously, advising, in a tone that could not really be described as 'sotto voce', that the culprits were going to turn round, walk silently over to the DoB's domain and apologise, one by one, for the ludicrous and totally heinous crime that they had committed. Chase games indeed. You'd think they were nine and ten-year-old boys, for goodness' sake.

An SOS. Tom C, as you know, has made for London town. I know that, as I put him on the Oxford Tube this very afternoon. Trouble is, he's forgotten his duvet, and so, when he officially moves into his digs on Sunday, unless we can address such duvetorial deficiencies, he's gonna freeze on Sunday night. Is there any kind Newtonian, London-based parent who might be able to help us/Tom out? He/we'd be so grateful 01865 459246 is the number to call if you can.

Sorry tonight's post has been so duvet-based, but that's how it is here sometimes. Fun, though, nevertheless.

Goodnight.