Evening, all.

I fear that the closest I came to burning up on the bike yesterday was mowing the lawn, but that went very well indeed, and now the grass has go-faster stripes on it, and Mrs C and I had a great away day. I even managed to pre-record Holby, one of the two 'soaps' to which we're completely addicted; the other one being Casulaty - which I can never type correctly. It always comes out as Casulaty. I'll try again. Casulaty. See? Now I'm going to really try. (Sorry about the split infinitive.) Here goes : Casulaty. Nope - and I really did try.

Enough of this literary badinage. To things Newtonian. This morning, after I'd done my rounds (it's catching), I sat myself down with my morning cup of finest Gold Blend Instant, and waited to do my final inspection before allowing the rezzies to leave. 'Collar issues' are always a trouble, as are undone hair and untucked shirts. One member of the lodge strode imperiously into the DCR.

'Good morning, sire,' quoth he.

'Good morrow,' requoth I.

'I am his imperial majesty, and you, sire, are my throne.' So saying, he plonked himself down on my lap, pointing to another member of the lodge, declaiming 'and you, young sir, I need a footstool. Bring me that bean-bag'. Meekly, the other obeyed.

That little episode was abruptly terminated and we all bade each other a fond 'Good morning' and went our separate ways, they to the dining hall, and I to my kitchen to consume my daily dose of Crunchy Nut. How appropriate.

Tonight we had a fire practice, which, I have to admit, did not go as well as it might. For a start, the wretched bell wouldn't sound the alarm, and so the alarm box simply emitted a rather weedy repeated bleep, which rather gave the game away to Curlew; then we had boys who couldn't find their slippers, which meant that they had to be extra vigilant lest the neighbour's cat had wandered into the back garden. Added to that, we'd had a little bit of silliness earlier on, so the whole event culminated in a rather grumpy lodgemeister berating the troops.

Of course, such irritations are soon forgotten, so, on extinguishing the lights (no, they weren't on fire) for the second time, I bade (such a useful word) the LMs goodnight and said that we could all 'move on'. I received a chorus of apologies - and charming goodnights.

So here's another one:

Goodnight.