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.