Belarus, Slovenia and Vietnam. That's where I've been broadcasting to today, apparently, so if you are among those who have logged on during the course of the day, welcome. I never fail to be amazed by the ever-increasing number of countries in which my audience is located - which makes writing these nightly jottings all the more, erm, well, what's the word, concerning? Scary? Not sure.

Slightly alarming it is, though, to note that in view of the fact that I've missed a couple of evenings through my social diary being somewhat more full than usual, my audience, notwithstanding those in distant climes, has plummeted from 34 to 18 in the past two days. Not good, and I hope not indicative of the shape of things to come.

Mr Porter is on duty in Newton tonight, and from what I can hear from behind the greem baize door, good order and complete control seem to be the order of the evening. So once again I find myself writing about things at which I haven't been present, so it behoves me to woffle on about extraneous issues, such as telling you that the waffles we had for pudding at lunch yesterday were quite pleasant, but that my consumption of same led to Mrs C reminding me that I'd told her that I 'never had puddings'. Thus, when confronted by my dear spouse as I brought spoon to mouth, the former never quite made it to the latter, which was unfortunate for the waffle, the maple syrup thereupon, and me. My rejoinder of 'Thank you, Sybil', was, perhaps, not the most apposite.

Mr Bryan was telling me about the latest instalment of 'Newton's Got Talent', which he oversaw on Tuesday night, while I was tucking in at Galvin. Apparently all went well, and they're down to the semi-finals, so we look forward to the next round. Or at least, Mr Bryan does, as I think Mrs C and I will try and find a local eatery for an hour or so. One where they do excellent waffles, methinks.

As for the mohican (which is probably what was meant by the 'mohawkian') I have yet to pluck up the courage to walk across to the local poodle parlour and make myself look like a punk rocker. But you never know.

That's it for tonight: I need to finish off Sebastian Faulks' 'A Week in December'. If you're read it, did you notice that Mr Faulks subscribes to the Elmore Leonard policy of never using any other verb than 'said' in direct speech? I didn't notice that until about half way through the book. If you've never come across his 'Ten Tips for Writing', you can find them on You Tube: just put 'Elmore Leonard's Ten Tips for Writing' into the search engine. Contentious in parts, and you have to endure close-ups of his chain-smoking, but they make you think. I;d give you the link, but this site won't let me copy and paste.

Goodnight, wherever you may be.