Good evening, one and all, and especial greetings to our readers in Bosnia Herzegovina, about whom my 'stats' page has told me. And, en passant, thank you to the 26 loyal followers who appear to have tuned into this corner of cyberspace yesterday - and with exactly that number of LMs in the lodge ......

I spent this afternoon umpiring the Colts C match at Moulsford. I'm delighted to tell you that we were victorious, and I was doubly excited to remember, as I strode down to the far fields there that I would be able to enjoy the sight of many trains passing by, which, of course, was a pleasure for me, but a source of great excitement for our scorer, whose passion for, and encyclopaedic knowledge of, locomotives and everything that goes with them, is unsurpassed!

I'm trying to think of some more lines to write, so that I keep on the right track, or how many more points I could cover. Stationed as I am at my computer, writing from my conversational platform, not to go further with this series of railway puns would be a signal failure. None of the LMs seemed in the mood for crossing me tonight, and so everything was kept on the level. I really am trying, you know; I'd hate you to be on the receiving end of anything other than a first class service. It's not as if I'm in training any more. Goodness, I seem to have a full head of steam now!

By now, of course, you are all rolling on the floor with hysterical mirth, wondering where on earth this blog will go next. To towels: that's where.

'Towels'? I hear you ask: has the man taken leave of his senses? Well, no. I leave you, therefore with the following dualogue, which took place tonight; clean towels night.

'Sir, I give in two towels and I get three back!'

'Well, lucky you. Next time you can give in three and you might get six back!'

Pause.

'H'm. Yes. I think I start business with this.'

It all starts here, you know. They certainly keep me on my guard.

Time to stop. No, really.

Goodnight.