I suppose you just had to be there. Picture the scene, as every second-rate journalist starts a story (either that, or 'They came in their thousands'): your correspondent has just gobbled a very quick supper in the dining room, after a lengthy management meeting and before the next duty. He strides purposefully, with full tray in hand, in order to dispose of plates and cutlery - and, just as he does so, slips on a slippery part of the floor, with tray disappearing into the heavens and himself disappearing down towards the fiery furnaces. You can imagine the ensuing scene, no doubt - although I have to say that the spectators, of whom there were many, including a goodly number of giggle-stifling colleagues, were much more respectful than I deserved, with more than one enquiring after my state of health. Anyway, I'm fine, and no damage was done, not even a broken plate.

Thus it was that the first salutation I received from a Newtonian tonight was,

"Sir, are you all right? Can you try on my hat?"

I was minded of the lion-tamer sketch in Monty Python, in which the ambitious accountant and wannabe lion-tamer says that in order to become one such, he has already equipped himself with 'a hat'. If you haven't seen it, simply put 'Monty Python lion tamer sketch' in the Youtube search engine, and enjoy.

My grand piano was the centre of some expert playing tonight, with all the various music exam candidates - and a few others who were just there for the ride - playing their pieces. I was then asked to play 'a really nerdy piece', and proceeded to show off to an adoring audience. It would have served me right if I had sustained further injury (actually, it couldn't be 'further', as there was none in the first place) if the piano lid had fallen on my ostentatious and flamboyant fingers.

Goodnight, all - especially those reading in Georgia and Malaysia.