Good evening, dear Friends and Followers, and welcome back to this cyberspatial hidey-hole. It certainly sounds as if you've all had wonderful times - and I was delighted to learn that having to share a hotel and ski-runs with SF staff didn't spoil the fun for those who found that there really is no escape ..... !

Mrs C and I were not to be found on the slopes this time, although not too much of the dissing, if you don't mind, because as I think I've mentioned before, we can hold our own if we need to! I even have a wonderful photo of your correspondent mono-skiing, I might add - although it pains me to confess that if you turn the picture through a right-angle you can actually see that it is, in fact, an image of yours truly having fallen heavily, and the fact that there is only one ski to be seen in the picture is indicative of the actualite.

So no, no snow, as it were. We made for our Dorset domain and enjoyed the company of all of our young for a few days, after which they dispersed and left the geriatrics to do what old people do. I did actually get the bike started, but such were the conditions that I thought it best to keep it where it was rather than try and skate on two wheels, otherwise I might have suffered a similar fate to that of Lawrence of Arabia after he'd climbed on to his motorbike on the night he said his final goodbye to Thomas Hardy: wrapped rather terminally around a tree.

The Fantastic Mr Fox appealed to all tonight, as did pink wafers (although there was a minor complaint that they were, er, 'pink, sir', an observation whose apposition I found to be most commendable,) Quavers and apple juice.

Anyway, they all seem to be on great form - and, methinks, quite tired, for I cannot hear a peep.

This post, by the way, is number 460: 40 to go before I reach my target!

Goodnight.