Good evening, and greetings to our new Followers in Poland and Azerbaijan .... !

I've been to London Town today, wheeler-dealing with regard to life post-SF, and not without success, either. But more of than in due course; suffice it to say for now that I don't think I shall be at too much of a loose end.

On the train coming back, though, I really did nearly laugh out loud. I was sitting facing an earnest looking chap, who looked as if he was in middle management or something similar. His phone rang (as did just about everyone else's, and the carriage was full of vitally important phrases such as 'Yeah, I'm on the train', and other such thought-provoking statements) and he looked concerned.

Chap: Hi Tim. (Pause) Yeah. Oh, right. Yeah, good idea. Thanks. Yeah.

I thought that something was amiss at the office, to judge from his concerned countenance. Sonia might have left suddenly, perhaps, or Steve had given in his notice.

Chap: Yeah. Great. Chickenburger, I think. Yeah, chickenburger.

I now realised that things were not so bad after all.

Chap: Er, yeah. Double-breasted with cheese. Thanks.

By this time I was more than faintly amused. Earnest (for that is what I mentally called him) rang off. Within seconds, his phone rang again.

Earnest: Oh. Yeah. Er, medium.

I averted my gaze and studied the passing visual delights of Slough. Think Betjeman.

Anyway, Holby City was great tonight: metaphorical to a fault and full of dramatic irony. I do like the way Mr Hansen does things, and I wish I had his cool. I bet he's better at repairing helicopters than I am, too.

As for your LMs, well, I can't hear a thing, so I think I can happily assume that Mr Bryan's touch on the tiller has been effective. It usually is.

Btw, Miss (Harriet) Lade is the best at getting the boys out of bed in the morning: no-one has left the lodge after 7.27am so far this term! (I hope Miss Alex isn't reading this!) (Bet you are, Alex!)

Goodnight.

'twas shoe-cleaning night tonight, judged by Miss Alice C and boyfriend Ed, and another four expert shiners managed edible rewards, which went down well. 'Twister' proved as popular as ever, with many a torso managing the most remarkable contortions .... ! Powdery cookies, pink biscuits and apple juice all did their respective bits towards making the lodge a happy place.

One of the boys' helicopters failed to proceed, unfortunately, despite a few running repairs carried out unsuccessfully by your correspondent, so there was no flying tonight. I think I may have to invest in a socket set, rather than a Philips'screwdriver. In fact, come to think of it, I did actually own a socket set when I was a student, bought for the purpose of ensuring that my first car, a 1958 Ford Anglia, was kept up to the mark. It lasted two years and then conked out, amid a haze of blue smoke. It had also lost at least one of its three gears by that time, so I was glad to be shot of it and to acquire my father's Morris Oxford estate car, which he generously sold to me for the sum of £25. I'm ashamed to admit that I sold it for £40, a few months later.

Post-lights out behaviour last night was excellent, after our lodge meeting, and from what I can, or rather, can't, hear at the moment, all is well tonight, too. Although we've just had a fire practice, so they're probably warming up after a few minutes in the garden ...... ! (Only a few, dear mothers, don't worry ... !)

That''s it for tonight; Mr Bryan's on duty tomorrow night, so I hope things will go well. I'm sure they will.

Goodnight.

What a quick leave-out that was! Still, Mrs C and I had a great time - as I hope you did - with choir direction for one of our local churches on Friday night, walks by the sea and through the countryside of Thomas Hardy, organ-playing for the service this morning, a superb Sunday lunch, a good read ('Solar', by Ian McEwan: I recommend it if you haven't read it) and a rather fine episode of Casulaty (See? I still can't type it!) on Saturday night. I found a very nice New Zealand sauvignon that proved to be eminently quaffable, and an excellent claret to accompany our beef at lunchtime. I looked at our house yesterday, and I thought that it bore an uncanny resemblance to Hardy's place at Bockhampton, which is good for a Hardy enthusiast - and if I get round to it, I'll post pics of both of them, and you can see what you think.

Tonight all has been well, with silence after lights out. We did, I admit, have a little bit of a 'difference' just before Short Leave, with your correspondent not exactly losing, more just misplacing his rag, but we had an amicable lodge meeting this evening, and we all seem to be friends again now. If you get a chance to back up my exhortations to the troops about how excessive chatting after lights out is a tad selfish, that would be great. I always tell them that there's no place in Newton for those who want to 'swim around in Lake Me'. (An American business expression, I'm told ..... !)

Cheddars, cookies (which were pronounced to be 'rather powdery' by one of our resident critics, and having tried one I'm tempted to concur), apple juice and an ancient videotape (remember them?) of The Simpsons all came together to make for a pleasant and agreeable evening.

Mrs C and Hannah C have now seen Isla's 'sister', and we have informed the Newtonians about her (not that) imminent arrival. I think she'll be here at the beginning of next term. We can't decide on a name, but there's a favourite, and more about that in due course.

Goodnight.

So sorry about the absence of posts recently: it was Tom C's 21st yesterday, and the celebrations have lingered on .... ! We had a great time, and a feast of a meal last night, including, if you can believe it, 'mouse wine', served complimentarily by the proprietor of the restaurant. I'm sure you've all sampled said tipple, but lest you should not have done, it's a bottle of some spirit or other with a dead mouse at the bottom of the bottle. You can try it at Xi'an's in Summertown. Tell Gary I sent you.

I think that's enough for now.

Goodnight.

I sometimes wonder what on earth someone of my age is doing looking after a lodge of 27 ten and eleven year olds. Many years ago I was told by a member of staff at another school that 'housemastering is a young man's job', and for a while I thought they were probably right. But when a LM comes up to you, flings his arms around you and asks 'Sir, why do you have to leave?' and then bursts into tears, you feel like crying yourself, and you remember why you do this amazing thing. I reassured my charge that whatever happened, I'd always be there for him, and he regained his composure, but such moments really do make one realise just what a privilege it is to look after your little men.

'twas a good evening in Newton tonight, with the cleaning of black shoes, and four worthy winners being rewarded edibly, which went down very well, although there were a couple of protestant voices that opined that they'd never won! They will: don't worry.

I was regaled by numerous jokes and riddles tonight, some of which were very amusing and some of which were very clever.I reciprocated with the story of the three bishops on a conference, each of which knelt down at the end of the day and asked the Almighty about whether some unlikely sporting event would occur. The first two received the response that yes, it would happen, but not in their lifetime, but the third, who enquired of something particularly lucidrous and outrageous, was told that yes, it would happen, but not in His (Her) lifetime. It's funnier if you hear it live, I must admit. The former Lord Lieutenant of Dorset told me that one. (If you're reading this, Philip, it was very good - and you told it rather better than I did ..... !)

Elder daughter Hannah passed her penultimate exam, you'll be glad to hear (no doubt!), so now she's just got finals and one more piece of coursework to do and she'll be Miss Hannah Cheater, BA (Hons.) And we shall be v proud parents! Just think, it all lies before you .... ! And Tom is 21 on Wednesday, too: where the Dickens did those years go? It seems only yesterday that he was at SF.

Make the most of these days, my friends - and enjoy every moment. They grow up very, very quickly.

PS: There's talk of Isla getting a little 'sister'.

Goodnight.

A brief post tonight, just to say that it's nice to have all your LMs back again, and that notwithstanding just a tear or two (which were quickly mopped up), all is well. Hannah and I were watching Notting Hill, which we both enjoy very much, and two little men came down to see us. (We paused the film (it being a 15, and therefore not available to the young) and after a couple of lighthearted moments and, yes, I confess, a reassuring hug, the distress evaporated, and they went back to bed happily. It's now 10.02, and we've heard no more, so I suspect that things that might have been a little awry after what will have been wonderful weekends are now back on an even keel.

Worry not, and sleep well.

Goodnight.

Three posts to go until I hit the magic 450 mark! I was asked yesterday whether I would continue blogging from deepest Dorset: I said that I might think about it, but quite whether anyone would be interested in the activities of a sexagenarian and his spouse I very much doubt.

Anyway, to return to 'the now': tonight has been one of those very special nights. Everyone was in a good mood, everyone was fun to be with, and games night, as it was tonight, went extremely well, with Miss Lade getting fully into the Newtonian swing of things and playing along very happily. For those who didn't want to play any of the games on offer (although most did), the two computers offered solace, and were used very sensibly and fairly.

I must tell you about yesterday's biscuit upgrade: we went into the HMDr, and there were the usual array of glistening silver coffee and tea pots (well, they're not really silver, of course, but they look the part), and, to quote the erudite Dr Dean, 'the most positively evil-looking, creamy-topped things you've ever clapped eyes on'! They were absolutely superb, and I confess to consuming more than just one. But not a word to Mrs C, if you wouldn't mind. (Dr Dean had two, too.) A bit of a come-down, therefore, to see that tonight's lodge biscuits were the rather more humble Digestives, which, as you may recall, are particularly fine when consumed with its equally humble bedfellow, Cheddar cheese. Unfortunately we are at present a cheeseless lodge, so I was unable to enjoy the aforementioned combination.

Tomorrow many LMs will be at home for the double credit weekend, so I hope you all have a wonderful time, and we shall ensure that those who stay with us have a good time, too. Mrs C and I are starring in the annual edition of 'Call my Bluff', which Mr Music-Price organises each year, so I'll let you know how that goes.

I'm off to watch my new favourite programme: 'Ice Pilots'. I've always wanted a pilot's licence. Now there's something I could blog about ......

Goodnight.

Good evening once again, and welcome to post number 446! The old 450 mark is fast approaching, and then there'll be just 50 more to go until my target is reached, and some kind literary agent decides that this whole work is just what publishers want and then you'll all have your copies for posterity. Yeah, right. The only way anything like that is going to happen is if you have the time or inclination to print them all out .... ! And then there'd be the issue (!) of reversing the order, so I suspect that the work will remain cyberspatial for evermore.

The television in the DCR caused problems this morning, which meant that we were unable to watch the BBC News, which, in itself wasn't too much of a thing, but the knock-on effect could have been that we had no telly tonight, which would not have been good. Now I'm sure all you dads out there have infinite patience and benorsic skill when it comes to things technological, but, not wishing to put too fine a point on it, I, dear readers, am not. Indeed, nothing drives me more insane and/or petulant, and the air around me becomes positively blue. (I'm told.) (No, I know you can't believe it.) Anyway, just before Mrs C was about to phone for an ambulance to take me to the nearest stroke unit, I had a brainwave - which was rather better than the alternative. If I switched everything off and unplugged the lot, then replugged and switched on again, things might rectify themselves. It usually works in Dorset, although you have to put more logs on the burner first, of course. To my amazement, they did. All was well by the time the LMs arrived, and so we were able to watch Messrs Clarkson, Hammond and May designing and then driving their own motorhomes. All such viewing was accompanied by the gulping of hot choc and the chomping of fruit.

Matches today all went well on the whole, with some fine results. My own team (the 6th XV, for whom I was acting as temporary manager) won 40 - 0, so we came away very happy, as I know did many other teams. Many Newtonians performed splendidly, and I'm sure you will hear all about that on other channels, so I won't dwell on them here.

Tomorrow is biscuit upgrade day in the HMDr, as you will know by now, so let's hope the trend that started last week with excellent cookies will continue. The coffee's good, too. Real and delicious. Out of a pot. As it should be.

Goodnight.

Staff meeting this morning, with a very buoyant HM, still walking on air abouhe trouncing we gave Papplewick on Saturday. Other than that, the day has been a fairly typical Monday, really, culminating with the highlight of the week, namely double Latin with my 5th Year set, for the last two lessons. By the time we'd considered present participles, purpose clauses and what I always think is a double negative, negative prohibitions (I mean, can you have a prohibition that isn't negative? If so, what would a positive prohibition be? Something trendy, I expect, as we're all expected to be positive these days. Oh, and we should always substitute the word 'but' with 'and'. 'But' is too negative), we were ready for supper. There's only so much I can tell you about sausage plait and mashed potato. (or cheesy pasta.) The salad bar was good, though, and the puddings were excellent. Rather like the soup at lunchtime, which, accompanied by the daily croutons, was outstanding, imho.

'twas shoe-cleaning night tonight, and four fortunate winners were edibly rewarded. (As it were.) No snacks as such, it being a Monday, but the fruit bowl offered much fructological sustenance. (No idea whether that word exists, but it has a Latin root, so it should if it doesn't.)

Silent reading came and went, although there were moments when that seemed to be something of a misnomer, but on the whole, it went well.

So there we are. A normal Monday, with the usual programme, and a pleasant, if unexciting evening in lodge. Mr Bryan will be at the helm tomorrow, so no post, but I'll be back on Wednesday. Until then,

Goodnight.

Alarming, the way the term is already speeding up! The first Sunday of term has come and gone, with a Communion service this morning and many and various activities (incorporating a 'social' for the Fifth Years with Tudor Hall, which seems to have proved very popular ... ) have been much appreciated. I disappeared from our school chapel's organ stool two minutes before 10.30am, leaving Mr Price to play the final hymn, while I sprinted round to the United Church in Summertown, where I was this morning's worship leader. I got there one minute late, but no-one seemed to mind, so all was well.

Tonight's Newtonian programme has included the consumption of a most delicious, home-made birthday cake, which was superb, and some wonderful cookies, which were equally scrummy. (Although there was just the miniest of hoo-has about that, because in order to ensure that Sunday night laundry is dealt with as efficiently as possible, miscreants (and I would certainly have been one of them at the same age) who failed to deposit their garments in the right bins were, as a notice in my school's music department read, 'debarred from the facilities that were otherwise available'. I always thought that was a little daft, because if you were DE-barred, then that surely meant that you were freed from the original barring. Still, I never had the nerve to say that to Mr Barker, as it were, so to speak, through there, possibly because there were other types of 'barring' to enjoy in the environs of the city of Bath .....

Hot choc and 'Herbie' on BBC 3 completed the package, and that all seemed to go down well, as did the fruit mountain.

Enough for a Sunday night, methinks, so until tomorrow night,

Goodnight.

It's 21.50, according to my trusty computer; daughter Hannah is writing a dissertation about grapheme to phoneme access, or some such, for her Linguistics degree dissertation; 'Toy Story 3' has been and gone, and achieved an excellent rating on the popularity front, accompanied by tonight's sweet ration of Skittles; the lights are out, and Mrs C is emptying the dishwasher, after what has been her final day as president of the new entrants' testing. Sad, really, to think that she and I will never know the LMs that were here today, or their parents: doubly sad, because all the parents that I met before lunch seemed delightful. Ah well, there we are, and I'm not going to go all soppy on you because many different opportunities for life post-SF are now coming into focus - but more about that when the final image is ready. I promise.

A great sporting day v Papplewick today: fantastic results across the board, and a v happy HM, which is always good news. As pre-match changing room duty master, I did tell the P'wick boys to 'play well, but not that well, of course', and clearly they decided that they should respect the wishes of one of their establishment's former preceptors! (Although I think they took it a bit too seriously, to judge from some of the results ..... ) Sobering to think that I started there in 1973, as a newly-qualified and very naive beak!

It was good to see a few of you, dear readers, earlier: I was on duty with my former tutee, Mr Edwards, so not able to spend as much time chatting as I might have liked, but that's the way it goes. Or, as Miles Kington, king of Franglais, would have said, 'C'est le chemin il va'. His best ever, I thought, was his translation of 'coup de grace' as lawnmower! (I stayed in his London flat once, when I was an A level music student, because my director of music had been a contemporary of his at Oxford. I was introduced to him, and he enquired, kindly, as to where I lived. 'Warwickshire', I replied, adolescently. 'That's a lovely place', he said. I made as if to respond, but nothing came out. 'Well? Isn't it?' he asked. I made a sort of quasi-mumblous-grunt and we 'moved on'. I think I redeemed myself a little - just - over dinner, in a fabulous Chinese restaurant, the name of which I have now forgotten.)

I'm waffling now. It happens when you get older, you know.

Goodnight.

You know how I said the previous post was number 431? It wasn't: it was post number 441. My mistake, and thank you to those of you who took the trouble to point out that my old age is already taking its toll. Most kind.

Dialogue between me and a Newtonian tonight:

N: Sir, are these old desks yours?

Me: Yes. I've had them for years. I acquired them in 1875.

N (in all seriousness): Were you really around then, sir?

Me: Yes.

N: Gosh, you must be old.

Well, there we are. That and the fact that when I opined (!) (the exclamation mark is especially for one of my readers who is very taken by the word) in my Third Year English set that I was probably as old - or older - than some of their grandparents, one wit rejoined with 'Er, great-grandparents - sir'. Oh well, at least he said 'sir'.

Tonight has been fun, with the implementation of the game 'Bananagram'. The whole thing looks like a rather anarchic version of Scrabble to me, but Miss (Harriet) Lade joined in wholeheartedly, and was sitting on the floor with a select number of Banananians in the DCR, thoroughly immersing herself in said fruity activity. (If you see what I mean.) Did I ever tell you (immodestly) that my greatest moment in Scrabble was while Mrs C and I were on holiday in Kenya (pre-school fees) and, during a most enjoyable evening's entertainment with friends, in the middle of nowhere, I managed 'xylophone', right down the centre of the board. The game was terminated at that point, leaving me with a very smug grin on my face.

Hot choc, bourbons and further fruit all added to tonight's portfolio of happiness, and all has been thoroughly enjoyable, after a particularly busy day. Oh, and by the way, talking of keeping people happy, yesterday's Thursday staff meeting in the HMDR (Headmaster's Drawing Room, for those of you with amnesia) incorporated the most delicious chocolate brownies! Now that really was an upgrade! (You see, the fact that this is read in the corridors of SF power has its advantages ..... )

Until tomorrow,

Goodnight.

Good evening, one and all, and welcome back to this cyberspatial corner, after what I hope have been excellent hols all round. We did have a lovely time, but unfortunately I succumbed to some kind of lurgy, which rendered me voiceless, although that did have its upside, as such a predicament prevented me from getting into spirited debate with my mama-in-law. Five years ago such was the vehemence of our Christmas cracker that it caused me to write a letter to the editor of the Daily Telegraph, who kindly published my thoughts - about forgiveness! The most irritating thing of all, though, was that my arguee was (probably) right. Still, all's well now, and it was a pleasure to dispense (larger than normal) glasses of Stone's Ginger Wine throughout the Yuletide season. After all, 'tis the season to be merry ..... Wer-hay!!

I recal the beginning of my equivalent Lent term, back in 1966: I was in a dorm with a dorm captain I couldn't stand, and we were a little too close to the HM's study for comfort. Not a great start, but it got better, and all turned out for the best in the end. Today, in 2012, all the LMs have been in cracking form, and everything just got back to normal as quickly as it ended in December. Mind you, the football helped, and caused plenty of excitement .....

Our new gapper matron is Miss Harriet Lade, from Australia, and she has already begun to show that she's going to be a very capable and competent successor to Miss Alex ! The gapper ladies are, henceforth, going to be known by their surnames, and as Harriet herself pointed out, there might be some initial confusion when Mrs C is talking about items of clothing that have been, er, mislaid. (Oh go on, smile, at least ... !)

A short term, but I hope another fun, fulfilling and rewarding one. For those of you who are interested in such stats, this is post number 441, so my final goal is coming ever nearer!

Goodnight.