As you may well have heard via e-mail or the 'phone, I'm Mr Popular tonight (not), following a brief encounter with a certain dorm at 10pm last night, the result of which was a postponement of sweet rations. This draconian measure has not been taken lying down - which was the main problem, as it happens - and I've been sent to Coventry by one or two. Still, as I said, Mr Nice can very easily become Mr Nasty if people are going to ignore my exhortations to keep quiet after lights out, so they can take it or leave it. To be fair, one who was looking singularly furious did say, when I asked him if he was very, very cross, that he was indeed, but that it was not with me that he was irate, but with himself. I thought that was very noble.

Oh don't worry; it happens. I'm sure we've all had similar issues at home - I know we have in this house! It's all a matter of building the framework, and making sure that everyone knows what it is. There I go again, teaching grandmothers, etc. I should know better, shouldn't I, having reached the age when I could so easily be a grandparent myself! (I'm not, as far as I know.)

The Saturday films seemed to go down pretty well, one in the UCR and one in the DCR, which enabled Mrs C and me (yes, that is the right pronoun, before you all start writing in) to watch Casualty. Hooray! I typed it correctly for the first time ever! Let me try that again. Casulaty. Yes, just as I thought: it was a fluke. Casulaty. That new Dr Nichols is rather, erm, engaging, don't you think?

Enough. I must away. (A strange expression, methinks.) (I seem to have come over all Shakespearean.) 'Age shall not wither her, nor custom stale her infinite variety'. The Newton Blog, clearly.

Goodnight.