Gosh, that was a bit heavy last night, was it not? Moi, pontificating about the Egyptian crisis and pretending to have some idea of what I was prattling on about. Oh well, at least I can console myself in the knowledge that you know that I don't. As proven, probably.

To more Newtonian matters. I found myself embroiled in a fairly robust discussion about the earnings of various footballers earlier, and was , as is my wont, giving my own fairly clear opinions about such things. I was cut down to size, however, by one member of Heron dorm, who opined 'You're just jealous, aren't you, sir?" Well, there is that to consider, I suppose, and I've always fancied an Aston Martin, as you well know.

Wednesday night is TV night, of course, and the highlight of tonight's viewing was 'Rogue Builders', or some such. Dominic Littlewood was endeavouring to wipe the floor with someone who had, allegedly (you can't be too careful on a blog) conned a couple into handing over their life's savings and the rest. I was hardly Mr Popular when I called for silent reading, as the rezzies were determined to discover the denouement of the story.

We were treated to delicious mini-croissants tonight; a kind and thoughtful gift from a generous benefactor - and they went wonderfully well with the weekly hot chocolate ration! Sweet rations added to the nightly fare, although a small 'issue' concerning same, or rather, the lack of them, caused a ructionette. All was resolved, though, and I don't think any harm was done.

Jasmine Cat is in strop with me because I haven't given her her nightly tin of 'Glorious Ocean Delicacies, caught by ancient mariners, served with a hint of shark fin', or whatever it's called, so I am now going to leave Newton in the more than capable hands of Mrs C and Miss A and go and acquire a dozen tins from Tesco's.

Oh, the variety of this job.

Goodnight.