Well, that went all to quickly, methinks. Still, Mrs C and I had a load of fun, as we went up to the Capital to visit our undergrad son, who's now fully installed and in-halled and thoroughly enjoying the cosmpolitan nature of his uni and those on the various course with whom he shares his digs. From there we went on to the theatre to see the brilliant and deeply moving 'War Horse', and if there are any of you who haven't yet seen it, well, you should. At the earliest opportunity.

Thence to West Dorset, where it rained rather a lot, but was no less pleasant for that, as the two of us, Darby and Joan-like, sipped tea and watched 'Escape to the Country' and other progs for the wrinklies like that, usually after I'd returned from a burn around the countryside on my Hardley-Davison. Mrs C provided some excellent repasts, and I managed to find some decent bouteilles to accompany them, and a good time was had by, well, us two. A couple of lengthy walks by the raging sea made for excellent battery-charging, and we now feel ready for the next segment of the term.

The residents all seemed in fine form tonight, and eager to tell us about their weekends. It all sounds like fun, so I'm glad things went well.

One entertaining moment to report. Mrs C proferred two sweet rations in my direction, instructing me to find their claimants. 'And who might they be?' I enquired. 'I think it's Jack Wills', she said. Well, in a manner of speaking, she was right, although the manner in which she was conversing was not, in fact, sartorial. (W.o.t.n.) Anyway, the two sweet-rationless refugees were very happy.

So here we go again, then. Wherever you are around the globe, I wish you a good evening, night, afternoon or morning.