Well, it was like this, you see. I had turned on my old analogue Yamaha keyboard, and one of the rezzies noticed it. Now you may not know this, nor might you believe it, but years ago I was the keyboard player for a band called 'First Offence'. We achieved no notoriety whatsoever, and although some of the songs we wrote were OK, we didn't really try very hard to do much with them.

Anyway, I was invited to play, and, having learnt many years ago that it's very rude to decline an invitation to play the piano, I did so. Once again, my faithful fans insisted that I should make an album, and I received the compliment with good grace, before remembering that I'm 59. Oh well, who knows.

Inevitably, we sang the Newton Silent Reading Song, which went down rather well, with the outcome of such vocal virtuosity being that when they got to the end of it, they assumed it must be, indeed, silent reading time (ten minutes earlier than usual!) and made their way to their beds! I think Miss Alex thinks she's come to a very strange place. (She's amazing, btw, and I'm sure she could run Newton single-handed if asked to do so.)

Prior to Newton duty, though, I made my way to the staff room annex in Summertown, otherwise known as Joe's Wine Bar, where I had the great privilege of talking with a colleague who has just had a family bereavement, and whose lineage goes back a very, very long way and is absolutely fascinating. Thereafter, he and I discussed the first and second axial waves of humanity, considering the various empires and religions, and why it is, sociologically, theologically and otherwise, the West is as strong as it is now. And, of course, whether it's likely to stay that way. Which it probably isn't.

What a kaleidoscopic way of life this is. I noticed one LM training his torch and gazing earnestly on a ladybird, during silent reading. I wonder what might come of that.

Goodnight.