Good evening, all, and welcome to the 390th post of the Newton Blog!

We've had a lovely evening tonight, and most of us chose to watch Top Gear, which to me was one of the best episodes ever, because Messrs Clarkson, Hammond and May were proving that the sports cars of the 1970s were much better cars than the hot hatches that replaced them. As I'm in the process of trying (!) to convince Mrs C that my life has reached the stage when I should be revisiting the automobiles on which I lavished such care and attention in my younger days, the whole programme was extremely topical. I was not slow to draw the commentary to the attention of the Newton Opergrupenfuhrerine, but I rather think that it may be some time before you see the Austin Healey 3000 parked outside this fine residence. And yes, I am very extremely jealous of my friend Mr Ives' MGB Roadster that he's threatening to bring here. If I could still get into an MG Midget without looking like a sardine in a tin, that would do nicely. If the suspension were reinforced appropriately.

Still, all was not as bad as all that, because we were able to scoff Kit-Kats, quaff hot chocolate, and eat our fill of fruit, which made the misery of knowing that my sports car owning days have passed more tolerable. (For the time being ...... ! I think I shall have to devise a Baldrickian 'cunning plan'!

So yes, all is well tonight, and you must forgive me for seeming to be a cantankerous old so and so last night. It's just that I wanted to hear that lovely performance, and extraneous noises off were not conducive to easy listening.

And that brings me back to James May, whom I see as my arch-rival. He's a qualified pianist, so am I. He has a grand piano; so do I. He's just over 6' tall; so am I. He's got a Ferrari.

I haven't.

Yet.

Goodnight - from a a happy Newton Lodge.