Well! Some day that was! We've been experimenting with a new timetable, you see, and it's been quite a challenge to have been in the right place at the right time! However, as the whole project has been designed and spearheaded by my excellent former (Papplewick) pupil Mr Corry, I applaud all of it, without let or hindrance. I must admit, I rather like it.

Tonight, I made one of my pilgrimages (Mr BT would be proud of me) to the staff room annex that is Joe's Wine Bar in Summertown. Down Mayfield Road I trudged, taking in Magna Carta College on my left and Gordon House, whatever that is, on my right, having passed the area where Messrs Edwards and Pearce park their cars. Eventually, after a journey lasting no less than three and a half minutes, I arrived at my ultimate destination, and was joined by my doctored colleague, Robin Harksin. I live in awe of my endoctored friends, but regard them both with appropriate reverence. The mighty Mr Randolph then joined us, and the two of us sat, wondrous in our appreciation of the intellect that stretched to somewhere just north of the outer limits of the stratosphere, in front of our sage and oracle, listening to his every word, and, occasionally, daring to add our own comments. I sipped my Sauvignon Blanc silently, as I listened to an appreciation of the history of Germany, adding my own twopenny-worth and hoping for the best. Thence to theism and various takes on existential exegeses. As a mere research fellow myself, how could I compete? One day I shall have my own Ph D. One day. Yeah, right. Fat chance.

To Newton thereafter, of course, and to hilarious impersonations of members of the staff - including oneself. The insight was frighteningly accurate, and it served as a salutory reminder that nothing we do passes our pupils (sorry, learners) by. Of course, I couldn't resist the opportunity to add one or two of my own, from my own school days, which seemed to go down rather well.

As ever, of course, silent reading was upon us all far too soon, and so, in the interests of multi-nationalism, I called out 'Lisant du silence!' as I went up the stairs. From behind me, and knowing from the instant I'd said it that I'd be corrected, I heard 'It's 'la' silence, sir.'

That's Summer Fields for you. And that's why we love it.

Goodnight.