First, dear Followers, my apologies for the fact that you would have discovered, had you logged on to this site of sites last night, that the blogophical cupboard was, sadly, bare. I had to return our daughter to school, you see, and this necessitated a lengthy journey back to Newton thereafter, and by the time I'd returned I didn't think that many of you would really have been bothered to find out what had been going on between the time you returned your own young and the time you returned home. Still, if you did, and were disappointed, I'm very sorry.

'Sir, you should get a mohawk.' Such was my greeting tonight, as I walked into Curlew. (Ha!) 'Sit on the bed, and I'll show you how it would work.'

The next thing I knew, I was surrounded by potential coiffeurs (yes, quite) who insisted on sticking my hair up on end. 'Sir, that looks great!' was one of the more complimentary comments about my new style; others were on the floor in hysterics, with yours truly feeling (and looking) a complete dork. Anyway, I've now returned my flowing locks to their normal appearance and any suggestion that I may have made about exploring mohawkian possibilities was somewhat wide of the mark. I wouldn't be able to cope in Parents' Evenings. Neither would you, probably.

Second comment of the evening: 'Sir there are no wrappers in Russia.' Imagine my concern, therefore, if you will, as I imagined naked Kit-Kats, Clubs and Gold Bars. All very worrying, although I suppose the said biscuits wouldn't really melt, would they, in such sub-zero temperatures.

Sadly, we didn't have time for a rendering of the Silent Reading song tonight, depite many requests, so silent reading fell upon the lodge and another day was done. All very calm, with orange segments, unwrapped biscuits (not that they were ever wrapped in the first place) and a delicious chocolate bar making things go smoothly.

Oh! 'Rappers'! Oh what a fool.

Enough. Goodnight.