Good evening, my friends, from a happy and peaceful Newton - and a warm welcome to our new friends in Brazil, whom, I see from my 'stats', have joined us. Ah, Brazil. How I remember it well. 1979, it was, and I was a private tutor in Rio. If you look through the posts of last year, you will see a reference to that wonderful time, and to a time last year when a yummy 5th year mummy came up to me at the leavers' do, and greeted me with 'You know A**** I*****, don't you!'

Er, well, yes, I did, and was amazed that this particular chapter from my bachelor days (he says, quickly) should be resurrected. As you can imagine, feeling like the playboy that he isn't, to put it in the vernacular, he felt 'well pleased'. Such smug satisfaction was short-lived, though, when the Y.M. in question went on to say 'Yes, she's a great friend of my mother.'

Anyway, I'm now a very happily married man, and I have been for 30 years on September 5th next year, so that's enough detail from the past. (If I'm feeling brave, I'll tell you one other story in due course, but you'd better promise now that you'll keep it to yourselves.)

'What's the loudest you've ever shouted in Newton, then, sir?' asked a resident tonight. I declined the invitation to give an action replay, so, with a 'Probably not as loud as your father' response, we moved on.

They're all watching 'A Night at the Museum' at the moment, and sweet rations in the form of fruit pastilles have ensured peace, perfect peace. Mrs C and I are about to watch Caulsaty (oh dear, that was the worst ever), and then we'll all go to bed.

And that, I think, is enough of that.

Goodnight.