After a pretty normal morning, Mrs C and I left the campus. Not in any fit of pique, I hasten to add, and not without headmagisterial per, either; we did so because we made our way to that most beautiful of Dorset educational establishments, wherein our younger daughter, Alice, resides during term time, Milton Abbey. We went there for their Carol Service, and, held in the Abbey itself, with a wonderful choir, excellent readings and a magnificent organ, it was a truly joyous event. And whom should I bump into as I went into the boarding house, but Mr and Mrs Jack Dee, who were, as ever, charming. He really isn't the curmudgeonly chap we see on our TV screens. (Re: 'whom'. I forget the originator's name, but his full quote was 'Whom is a word designed to make anyone who uses it sound like a butler. Anyone who is not a butler cannot use it without afterwards feeling a bit weird.')

I don't doubt that there were umpteen things and duties that I should have been doing, but I like to think that I covered all eventualities, but I'm still wary of opening up my inbox after this bloglogging session .... The number of internal memos that are flying around at the moment is very, very alarming.

But to return to Milton Abbey. There were some wondrous gowns and hoods strolling around: one, clearly a Ph D from somewhere or other, surpassed anything that any of my doctored colleagues are entitled to wear - although I've just remembered Dr Dean's psychedelic number from the University of Manchester, being that of Doctor of Renaissance Lit, and I think that with its bright red and yellow gown and dazzlingly yellow hood, really does prend le biscuit. Personally, I'm happy with my old and trusty black number, although I suppose I do have a choice of hoods to go with it. Oh dear, here we go again: yours truly sounding like an academic fashion mag. (Or a (fill in your own sobriquet)).

As for things back here at the ranch, I have no reason to doubt that Mr Porter has done another superb job on my behalf, enabling me to type this out, sipping a nicley (oops, too much so, it seems) chilled glass of Sauvignon Blanc.

Jusqu'a demain, alors - et bienvenue a nos amis qui habitent en France, qui lisent ce blogue pour le premier fois.