'Sir! I did my music exam today!'

'Excellent! Well done! How did it go?'

'Oh, OK, I think'.

'Did you have nice examiner?'

'He was OK.'

'Young? Old?'

'Er, old-ish. About your age, sir.'

So that's good, then, is it not. Could have been worse. Still, I felt rejuvenated when one of your LMs came up to me, just before silent reading and said 'Sir, you're like a dad to me'. That made my evening.

There was great glee among those involved in the Play tonight, when they returned to lodge, as they wasted no time in regaling us with the details of the crash landing into the doghouse! Mrs C and I will be going to see it tomorrow, but I doubt whether anything quite as exciting will happen then. Apparently, it's terrific, and we can't wait to see it, especially with a number of Newtonians in it.

Wednesday night is TV night, as you know, and we all opted for the Top Gear Polar Trek episode, which went down very well, as did the bourbons, pink wafers, fruit and apple juice. Oh yes, and I meant to tell you: last Thursday, in the HM's drawing room, where we all gather on that day for Break, there was, finally, a biscuit upgrade! The Newton Blog has done it again, and the selection of cookies that accompanied our (real) coffee was superb. I'm looking forward to tomorrow already.

Nearly Short Leave.

Goodnight.

Latvia, Egypt, Israel and Lithuania! Those are just some of the regions of the world whence visitors to this blog have joined us during the course of today: and if any of you happen to be reading this now, welcome!

'twas the dress rehearsal for 'Peter Pan' tonight, and it sounds as if all went very well. I'm looking forward to it enormously, and I'm sure you are, too. Incidentally, talking of successful Newtonians, I forgot to mention last night how well our representative did in the Advent service, so my apologies for that inadvertent omission.

Our DCR TV's been on the blink for the past two days, which has meant that my morning glance at the news as I see the LMs out in the morning, having dealt with their various sartorial 'issues' (collar issue, shirt-tucking-in issue, hair issue, wrong shoes issue (you'd be amazed how many get half way across to school before realising that they still have their slippers on) and the like) has been rather impeded by the lack of televisual accompaniment. Funny, you know, the morning cup of instant doesn't taste half as good without the anchorpeople's banter. Not to worry, though, because the wonderful Miss Alex (who, sadly, will be returning to Oz at the end of this term) managed to fix it, and now all is well again.

Apple juice, fruit and pink biscuits formed our lodge sustenance tonight, which disappointed Mrs C and Miss A, because they favoured chocolate digestives, of which there were - sorry, was - none. (Sounds all wrong, doesn't it.)

I managed to get all the Latin scripts marked, you'll be pleased to hear, so I didn't feel too guilty about watching Ice Road Truckers. Let's see how the Young Apprentices get on. Then I must start writing some reports.

Goodnight.

Evening all. I forgot to tell you last week that we had the record number of hits on the Blog on one evening: 105! Yesterday's was 37, which is just about average, and today I see that 15 of you have already had a butcher's.

After Mrs C's and my final Advent Carol Service, in which the Chaplain gave a very kind and appreciative note at the beginning of his sermon, things have been quite theological over here tonight. It all began, you see, with one of your LMs telling me that as he was a Catholic, he worshipped in a church. I opined in return that that was quite a sensible place to do so, but that as far as I was concerned, you don't need a church to worship The Almighty. Of course, this led to the inevitable rejoinder about what was considered to be an appopriate location for private devotions (yes, that's right), and I agreed that such a spot was perfectly acceptable, as it was, after all, S/He that had created it in the first place. My theological understanding of such things was then challenged, as my conversational partner then expressed the view that it most certainy wasn't the Creator who had done so, but, in his opinion, the builders what done it. (Actually, his exact words were, 'Ah. I thought it was the builders.') After having played through Bach's Fantasia in G minor, conducted a hymn and prayed while in Chapel, I didn't pursue this fascinating exegesis.

I then went into another dorm and found two rezzies in devotional posture, kneeling by their beds, silently.

"Oh, sorry, are you praying?"

'Well, sort of.'

'To whom?'

'Father Christmas, of course'.

Behold, then, two boys, kneeling by a bottom bunk, hands clasped, gazing at a picture of St Nic on the wall.

I can only hope that their petitions are answered positively.

And now I'm going to see how the Ice Road Truckers deal with deadliest roads. I love that programme. (Mrs C gets scared by it as she thinks they're going to fall off the edge.)

Yes, thank you, I know I should be marking Latin CE Trial papers.

Goodnight.

Good evening , one and all, and welcome to bloglog number 430! Only 70 to go now before I reach the magic number ....!

I'm sorry that I haven't been on air for the last few days: there have, in fact, been a couple of Twitterings, but I'm afraid exam marking (a whole load), report writing (masses) and an episcopal visit (must be some pun on mass to be had there, but I can't find anything that doesn't sound contrived) rendered the noble art of bloglogging impossible. Still, His Holiness was a delightful guest, and we chatted into the night about many things before we turned in. (There's another pun to be discovered on the word staff somewhere there, too, but again, I'll move on.)

We have only twelve Newtonians with us tonight, which is in some ways strange, but in another way rather nice, because it's all quite intimate and cosy. 'Men in Tights' seemed a good option as far as things cinematic are concerned, and it seems to be going down well, other than for the two who are in the UCR, playing on the computer. (They think I can't hear their conversation, and of course, I'm not eavesdropping, or anything like that.)

I think I'll stop there tonight. It's been quite a day, and after having read over 100 English II scripts, my eyes are going all funny. (It's a good job none of the candidates wrote as terrible a sentence as that!) The Bishop has now left us, and he very generously left us a lovely jar of marmalade.

Mitre known he would. (Yay!)

Goodnight.

Did you know that Mexican people don't believe in pandas? No? Neither did I. It's amazing what you learn during a night on duty (what a horribly formal term in these more cosy days of pastoral care) in Newton. Anyway, you do now. So if you should happen to be going to Acapulco or the like, at least you'll be saved the trouble of packing any bamboo shoots.

As you will have seen from the newsflash below, the Newton Twitter account has reopened, having descended from its perch rather seriously in its previous incarnation. (OK, Mr D, I know you're reading this, and I confess that that's your line, but you should be flattered that I'm using it.) If it works more comprehensively this time then you might pick up one or two titbits from time to time, but that means that I have to remember that we actually do have a Twitter account and that it needs to be updating. Oh well, if there's nothing on the NN account you can always read Stephen Fry's fascinating life details. ('Just having cup of Earl Grey tea', etc.)

I was reminiscing with some of the rezzies tonight about how my director of music at Kingswood School www.kingswood.bath.sch.uk) suffixed everything he said with 'So there we are, so to speak, as it were, through there'. I could appreciate most of that, but what on earth did he mean by 'through there'? 'Now Cheater, I want that essay by tomorrow at the latest. So there we are, so to speak, as it were, through there.' Don't quite know why I'm sharing that with you, or the LMs, but I suppose when you get older you do start wittering on about former days. At least I don't mention the war.

As for tonight, well, all very pleasant, with jammy dodgers, custard creams, apple juice and a barrowload of fruit, accompanied by an episode of Top Gear in which the trio tried out a number of electric cars. They didn't impress, and I won't be buying one. At least, not one that's about the size of a Mini and costs the earth.

Exams are nearly over bar the shouting, not that we do any of that any more, and tomorrow will be quite an interesting evening, I expect. I hope Mr Bryan will enjoy it. I know he can cope.

Goodnight.

Newsflash from Newton: The Newton Twitter account has been resurrected. You'll find it at twitter.com/newtoniannews

"Sir, sir, why can't you stay.sir? Why do you have to leave? I'll give you all my sweet rations between now and the end of the summer term if you stay!"

That was just one of several offers I received tonight and for which I showed my immense gratitude, but as I assured my charges, que sera, sera. However, once I'd suggested to my confectionery beneficiary that if I were to accept his kind offer, I'd be too large to get out of the Newton door, he felt that this would be a good thing and not a bad one. I politely declined his offer. I was even offered a four-figure sum, which would have emptied his bank account, so I decided that this would not really be entirely justified - and I managed to put the sepulchral vision of the MG out of my mind.

So we got on with things in the present. Shoe-cleaning is always good for a few edible goodies, and chocolate buttons managed to ensure many a shine, as did the whatever-they-were sours, which were used by one winner to have another go at bribing me to stay on. Now, had it been those wonderful Maynards' Sours, sometimes available from motorway service stations (but not often, it seems) that might have been a different matter.

Exams are at the forefront of everyone's minds, but I rabbited on about them last night, so no need to do so again now. I think everyone's pretty calm, if tonight is anything to go by.

And, of course, the rugyby season kicked in today, much to the pleasure of so many. But that's for another night, and now I'm off to see which young apprentice manages to upset the rest of them.

Goodnight.

Good evening, and welcome back, after what I hope has been a most enjoyable weekend - and especial greetings to those of you who have joined us in the UAE, Brazil and Ukraine!

We spent day celebrating a friend's 50th birthday, over in Hertfordshire, which was great. He's a headmaster, and he's godfather to our daughter Alice and his wife is godmother to a junior Ives, so the six of us, who used all to be colleagues together when we were working at Papplewick, were reunited, as we often are. Much laughter ensued, and we enjoyed a terrific meal. Of course, we were all sensible, responsible (which has taken me three goes to type correctly) and abstemious. (Of course.)

Tonight I was asked if I could find one of our company a 'like tweezer like thing'. I confess that I couldn't, but when I've located one such, I will let you like know. He had a like splinter thingy in his foot, you see, and he like wanted to like remove it. (I always tell my own offspring to replace the word 'like' with 'similar', and see how that sounds. It seems to similar work.)

Big thank yous are due to the one among you who kindly transported our daughter for us: it was very, very kind, and earned the text message which read, 'X's mother is so, so nice!' So, thank you. Mrs C and I really appreciated your help.

Twixes, crisps and fruit all played their part tonight, as did Messrs Clarkson, Hammond and May, and while it's been a lively evening, it's been great fun, too.

Exams they are a-looming, so we will keep an eye out for any pre-test jitters, but I'm sure they'll all be fine. I shall probably be more anxious than any of the rezzies, worrying about whether I've printed out enough question papers, or whether I'm going to meet the marking deadlines - or something .....

All is well.

Goodnight.

Yes, well, I think that's quite enough about Coke floats for the time being.

My apologies for not writing last night: my excuse being that I was responsible for arranging last night's entertainment for the boys, which was billed in the calendar, as you will have seen, 'An Evening with George Stiles and Anthony Drewe'. They write musicals - successful ones - and ones that many of the boys have either seen or performed in. Their most recent is 'Betty Blue Eyes', and they have many, many others on the go at the moment, too.

I have known George Stiles for over 30 years. He was a gapper when I was a very young master at Papplewick School, and he decided then that he wanted to write musicals for a living. To cut a long story very short, he has achieved his ambition, and when I tell you that one of their musicals managed to beat 'The Lion King' for an award, you can see that things are going well. Only the night before last, George and Anthony were dining with Stephen Fry, discussing other possibilities. They were with Julie Andrews, not so many weeks ago, too.

But if you'd like to learn more about this amazing duo, have a look at their website, which is http://www.stilesanddrewe.com/ and see what you think. And if you get a chance to go and see any of their shows, do take it, because you won't be disappointed. Their music has won many international awards, too.

After the show, Tom C and his girlfriend, Christine, and George, Anthony and I went out to dine at Xi'an, that splendid Chinese restaurant in Summertown and we were able to reminisce, talk about the future, all accompanied by a great deal of laughter!

Anyway, the presentation they gave to the boys was fantastic, and everyone enjoyed themselves. It was a great personal privilege for me, too, to join with George in an improvised piano duet: we haven't done that for 30 years, but we discovered that we could still do it, and the boys and staff were duly appreciative of our efforts .... !

My dear wife very nobly elected to look after Newton, with Miss Alex, and all was well. They're a remarkable duo - and all the more so, when I know I can simply hand over the reins with total confidence.

Have a lovely weekend, as always, thanks for reading.

Bon weekend.

I know it's Tuesday, and that there isn't usually a bloglog, but I just wanted to thank those of you who wrote in to tell me that my ageing memory is not failing me and that there really was a Coke and ice cream concoction all those years ago, and that it was called a Coke Float over here, but by a different name across the Pond. I heard first that it was called a 'spider' over there, but as one of you had already written, telling me about its name over there, and that it wasn't a 'spider', I began to wonder whether I'd need to exercise diplomatic skills that I might have learnt from a different life. Within minutes, though, I received another message, in which my correspondent told me that, in fact, it was called a 'spider' in the southern hemisphere and not across the Atlantic; Australia and New Zealand, to be precise. So, Miss Alex, you can confirm - or not. Actually, you probably can't, because you've probably never heard of such things .... !

Anyway, I'm most grateful for your contributions, as I am to the 38 of you who tuned in last night - and may I welcome our new Follower from Hungary, who my stats tell me has joined us.

I think I'm going to wallow in nostalgia and make a coke float. Personal, social and health education. Well, not really education, other than a bit of history. Not really social, either, as I don't expect Mrs C will want one. Health? Er, no. Just personal, then.

Goodnight.

I hear that some of you fathers are not without your similarities to me! I learn tonight, for example, that some of you are forbidden from consuming too much chocolate, and that to compensate for this, you have been known to indulge in a little fridge-raiding ...... ! I have to admit that a chilled Coke is often very pleasant when one's attempts at grabbing the Cadbury's Dairy Milk or the Galaxy bar have been foiled - but wouldn't a few squares of the delicious bar have been so much better? I was thinking the other day about my own boyhood days: was there not some concoction which consisted of a dollop of ice cream and a Coke? I can hardly remember it now, but I almost convinced myself that the ice cream was place within the Coke, but that may be my memory playing tricks on me. Didn't it have a special name? Whatever it was called, though, I remember it being a true highlight of a summer evening. Perhaps one of you could enlighten me .....

I must say that your LMs have been great tonight: it hasn't been the greatest of days, for one reason or another, but the Newtonians, on seeing what must have been a slightly more sombre lodgemeister than usual, all ensured, to a man, that lodgemagisterial spirits were lifted quickly, and by the time we came to silent reading, I was ready to assist in an operation that required me to rescue a teddy from possible suffocation - much to the adulation of the crowds that had gathered in Kingfisher. All was well, and a cheer had to be quelled.

Shoe-cleaning was most enjoyable for all, with small edible rewards on offer for those who made an effort, and more generous rewards for the four winners. I managed to secrete no less than three Heroes of different kinds without let or hindrance.

Which brings me back to where I started, more or less.

And not a word to SWMBO, if you wouldn't mind.

Goodnight,

80 posts to go until I reach the magic 500 mark .... ! Well, 79, after this one. I do appreciate your tuning in to this tiny part of cyberspace regularly, and it's nice to know, too, that my ramblings are read by ex-Newtonian parents as well as current ones.

Today has been long, but good. From getting the boys up and ready for the Service of Remembrance, to the service itself, in which both choirs sang and Mr Music Price and I shared the organ playing (well, he played the grand finale, because he's the boss) to the winding down of a busy day. Pleasingly, no-one chose to wind their lodgemeister up, and everything seemed very calm. Mr and Mrs Sparrow once again hosted a wonderful post-service get-together for the staff, and I found myself reflecting, not without a touch of sadness, that this was the last such day that Mrs C and I will have at SF.

As for tonight, Top Gear provided automibilian entertainment, and Club biscuits, as well as custard creams and bourbons provided sustenance. Liquid refreshment was available in the form of hot chocolate, which went down well, as it always does.

And now, if you know what the French for 'mother of pearl' is, that is what I am, when you translate it back into franglais, so that, dear friends, is that for tonight.

Goodnight.

Interesting old day today. I won't bore you with the details of my trip to the JR last night, because (a) it wasn't that interesting and (b) other than to tell you that the Newtonian involved was the most brilliant example of Summerfieldian stoicism imaginable, there isn't really much to tell. Eventually, we were seen by a senior nurse, and all was well.

Apart from that, well, I found myself helping to push the car of one of our parents from its rather curious resting place, which again, in itself wasn't that much of a big deal, although I shall relish for some time to come the fact that I felt confident enough to greet the aforementioned in a 'familiar' manner, which caused some interesting looks from some of the fathers from the other place ...... I say 'the other place', as I used to work there, as some of you will know, and I have to admit to a little satisfaction about the fact that we did rather well this afternoon. (I know the HM, and regard him as a friend, so to say that it was a veritable rout would put paid to a few glasses of decent vino, so I'd better exercise diplomacy.)

Our Leader kindly invited us all to drinks tonight, at his place, which was extremely pleasant, not least to hear him speak so enthusiastically about this term's winning ways. He told us that he wasn't very competitive, which enabled us all to award him the Nobel Prize for Litotes. Mrs C and I have worked for only one HM who was as competitive as he, and he was an Olympic sportsman. I became his deputy, many years ago, which was quite an experience. I do remember playing against one school, whom he regarded as 'the old enemy', and losing: this gave rise to Mr and Mrs C, and Mrs and Mrs Ives, who were colleagues together, hiding behind our form room doors when he returned, parking the car with a screech of brakes and storming up and down the corridors of the classroom block, looking for anything that might further his fury, such as a desk that was out of place. And no, I'm not joking. Ask the Ives.

It's a good job things are different now.

Goodnight.

Despite my best efforts, it seems that my exhortations to the troops to return from their excursion to Cadbury's World with 'something nice for their lodgemeister' fell on deaf ears, for there hasn't been a sign of a flake, whole milk bar or a fruit and nut anywhere tonight. At least, that's how it appears, and I'm not sure I can be troubled to investigate fully. There've been some enterprising hiding places in the past, though: behind the clock, behind the fire alarm bell (discovered when there really was a fire practice that night!!), in the pillow, in the mattress, sewn into Teddy - and even in the hollow bit of an old iron bed frame! Oh yes, I've seen them all. And usually discovered them. Still, they all came back happily after their chocolateering adventure, had a shower, and came out smelling like, er, Roses. Talking of which, last year we used to have what I call 'fragrance nights' (which actually really are 'fragrance nights') when the rezzies would compete with one another with their various bath oils and shampoos to ensure that Newton was pong free. It did, I suppose, have a whiff of what my classics teacher used to call 'houses of ill repute', but at least it cloaked the Cloaca. Oh, the wit.

We watched Fawlty Towers tonight, because I didn't really feel that Waterloo Road was a very good option as far as viewing was concerned, and yet again I fell about laughing as Basil beat the old 1100 Traveller up. They used to have hydrolastic suspension, you know, which was based on Citroen's excellent system, and then taken on by Bentley after that. Or possibly Rolls Royces. (Which one should never call 'Rollers', and which never break down. They simply 'fail to proceed'.) That's why they're so smooth. (Oh yeah, James May, get a load of that.)

A good evening all round, then, and now Frozen Planet is calling. Or is it 'cold calling'?!

Goodnight.

Good evening, all - and thank you to the 27 of you who tuned in to this corner of cyberspace last night. Oh yes, it all shows up, you know! My 'stats' page is very interesting!

'twas shoe-cleaning ce soir, and our judge was Miss Alice Heinrich, whose surname most of you won't recall, so I will tell you that her parents used to be the lodgeparents of Newton before our predecessors, the Smiths, and Mr Heinrich was the deputy headmaster before Mr Bishop. Mr Heinrich is now the HM of the supremely successful Cumnor House School in Sussex, where he has managed to attract at least three former SF members of staff ..... ! The Heinrich children and the Cheater children grew up together, you see, and there was much interaction between Mayfield (where we cut our teeth as lodgeparents for 13 years) and Newton. But to return to the shoe-cleaning: that went very well, with all four winners being delighted, and Miss Alice opining (yes, my word again, for those of you who observe such things) 'I wish Mum and Dad ran a lodge: they're all SO CUTE!' I concurred, of course. And thank you, yes, my cough is getting better.

In Break today we had the most superb flapjacks - and the only reason I mention that (you cynics: do you really think I'm just being political?) is that last Thursday, when we all foregather in the Headmaster's drawing room for coffee and a (usually) brief meeting, the coffee was superb, as always, but the biscuit upgrade, to which I had referred at the end of 5C's Latin lesson, and told them how much I looked forward to Thursday Breaks, didn't seem to happen. Now I have no problem with custard creams or digestives; indeed, I enjoy both very much, but when you know that flapjacks, inter alia, might be awaiting, one tends to arrive with a spring in one's step. I just thought I'd mention it.

I was asked by a senior boy, after games, whether I thought that teenagers and older people were really the same. I asked why.

'Because when you're young you slide down the bannisters, and then when you're old you slide back up them again.'

Not bad.

Goodnight.

For those of you who are interested in my inexorable quest to achieve 500 blogposts before the end of the academic year, and the time when I print the whole lot out and send it off to some unsuspecting published, this one is number 417. I still can't think of a suitable title, though; 500 Nights seems a bit tame to me. I did think of 500 (K)nights, but even though it sometimes sounds as if there are that many rezzies here sometimes, there aren't. Oh well, I'll go on thinking.

Today we had the Old Summerfieldians matches, first Eton v. Radley and then Old Boys versus the staff. I won't spoil the surprise for you, because if I did, you wouldn't need to read the Newsletter: that rival SF publication. (I used to work for a HM whose letterhead stated that letters were 'from the Headmaster's desk', which made me think that desks are pretty clever things if they can compose correspondence.) Anyway, it was great to see so many former pupils here, and how they have all grown into charming young men. For the most part.

As for things Newtonian, we were very fortunate to receive a batch of home-made chocolate cookies; made at home by one of our own - and scrumptious they were, too. And while I'm talking about chocolate, we had what I thought was a rather curious sermon in chapel, which seemed to consist of a delightful cleric handing out confectionery. I missed the theological foundation on which the address was based, but I'm sure I can get one of the boys to tell me tomorrow. (I have to confess that from where I was sitting, which was at the organ, I couldn't really hear much at all, but that's no fault of our visiting preacher.)

It's a joy to have our own young with us for the weekend, and so I'm now going to join them.

Enjoy Downton Abbey: last episode tonight.

Goodnight.

Busy old days, Fridays. But all the more fun for that, of course.

Today started with a fascinating homily from the Chaplain, about angels, which led to some heated exchanges afterwards, and then straight into morning school, where we were all looking over our shoulders to see if our own guardians were helping us to cope with the rigours of the classroom - and to keep us warm. I wasn't aware of my own, but then, perhaps I'm too much of an old cynic.

My morning in-box contained many messages: some from parents, some from staff, and some of which impressed me no end by their masterly use of text-speak. However, there's a D-notice on that, so, in the same way that the Telegraph editorially chose not to give away the name of the character who gets bumped off in Downton, I will exercise magisterial discretion.

We have a new catering company now (I don't think that's classified info) and my word, if their first week's menus are anything to go by, they are absolutely brilliant! Unfortunately for me, Mrs C does supper duty every night, so she's already standing by the door as I walk past with my invariably overly-filled plate, and gives me one of her looks of mock horror. It's like eating in a Michelin-starred restaurant, imho. I'm even thinking of inviting my Telegraph journalist colleague, Matthew Norman, whose reviews in the Weekend section of the DT are always my first port of call on Saturdays, to come and do a critique! (Actually, no, I'm not really, because I'm aware that this blog gets read at top level.)

It's a full house in the private side of Newton tonight, with all three Cheater cubs in residence for the weekend. I shall no doubt act as chief cashier once again, in the B.o. D. I'm surprised I haven't a call from Mr Papandreou yet, but no doubt that will be coming in due course.

Tonight has been fun once again, and they're silent in the dorms, so I will sign off, wishing you a very goonight.

TAFN, and T2UT.

"Sir, sir! We just scoffed our faces with Monster Munch!" was my pre-silent reading valediction tonight. So that's good then.

"Sir, sir! Make sure you write a good blog tonight: my mum reads it every night!" was another.

Well, I can't speak/write for the quality of this bloglog, but I hope it will bring you happiness, not least when I tell you that I was asked by Mr Porter to manage the Colts Ds this afternoon, and that we (ha! 'we'!) won 13 - 1. Once I've written up tonight's post I shall be composing my letter to the Director of Sport, seeking promotion to the upper eschelons of sport management, of course. (I did actually once apply to be the manager of Southampton FC (no, really, I did) and received a very generous reply, saying that perhaps a rookie manager was not exactly the person for whom they were looking, but it was nice even to get a reply.)

Anyway, it's been a lovely night, with everyone being co-operative and charming, and with plenty of camaraderie and repartee. The rezzies were amused, as they always are, by the fact that when I bellow 'Silent Reading!', the dorm doors, which are noise sensitive (for some reason that is beyond me) close automatically.

So, sporting-wise it's been a good day, with many positive results, and Newtonianally it's been a really happy evening. And you know what?I can't hear a word.

Time for Frozen Planet, methinks.

Goodnight.