Greetings, dear Followers, and special greetings to those of you who are reading this in Vietnam and Slovenia! (And to the Followers on the Isle of Wight, of course, who like to feel part of the place ... )

I was asked tonight whether it's fun being a lodgemeister: I said that it most definitely is and I shall miss it, and the LMs, enormously. It becomes embedded as a way of life when you've done it for all but 18 years; 13 years in Mayfield, then a short break before being brought back from the cold to do these four incredibly happy years in Newton. Mind you, we did enjoy our short sabbatical, when we lived in what's now the Bryans' house at the back of Newton, so I don't think it will be too difficult to adjust to a non-Newtonian existence, especially when we have such a lovely pad to which to retire.

Tonight being a Wednesday meant TV night, and as there wasn't much evidence of alacrity when 'Rip Off Britain' came on to the screen, there certainly was when the representatives of Inter-Milan and Marseille started kicking the ball around. That, accompanied by hot choc and a selection of bics made for an evening of contentment all round.

I had an e-mail from son Tom tonight, who, as you know, is happily ensconced in his studies at SOAS, London Uni, studying Japanese and Korean. He told me that he found that he was making rather many errors, so he went out and bought a gallon of Tippex. Big mistake.

Goodnight.