Cola bottles. Yes, that's right: one of my preferred confectionery options (other than chocolate, of course) and which Mrs C and Hannah have decided, between them, that if I knew where the mound of them has been secreted away, then there would be none available for the LMs. Miss Lade seems to be in on it, too, and despite my giving her the option of a drink of her choice in Costa or Starbucks, she refuses to give the location of said sweets away. Harsh. Still, I'll find them. You wait and see if I don't.

Tonight we were treated to the most amazing concert by the Chaplain's daughter, Anna, 16, who played an extraordinary number of right notes on the harp and the piano. The performances were all stunning, and everyone enjoyed them.

To lodge thereafter, and to black shoe-cleaning, which resulted in three more happy victors, who enjoyed their edible rewards. No cola bottles, though, so they remain amassed in a cupboard somehere. I'll find them.

This 'big dog' thing got a little out of hand tonight, with various LMs wondering whether they might address me as 'big cat', as they thought that was more appropriate for a cheetah (sic), but when one of our number remarked 'I love da big dog' I thought it was time to draw a line under such canine references. Still, it was quite fun while it lasted. I had to take a lead. (Ho ho.)

So ya, bruvs, dat is where I is gonna leave it, and now I is gonna watch some (please insert your chosen perjorative term within these parentheses) on da t.v.

Laters.