I learnt today - indeed, I think I did already know it - that George Dubbya, when president, liked to be in his pyjamas by 9pm. What a thought. Still, I suppose looking after Newton is a little different from dealing with the world generally and the US particularly. I mean, how would I cope with international incidents, illegal activities and ........ no, I must stop this habit of incorporating sub-texts into my nightly meanderings: I shall get myself into trouble one day.

Presumably by now all of us have cast our vote to usher in the next prime ministerial incumbent. Mrs C and I went up the road and both put our crosses next to ......... oh, wouldn't you just lerv to know?! Actually, I think using the Eurotunnel as an enormous wine cellar has some merit as a policy - as long as our French cousins are in charge of it, that is.

The garden provided pleasure for many tonight, and no doubt Mr and Mrs Bryan, who live just over the fence, were able to enjoy the happy sound of the young at play for half an hour. Mr Bryan informed me this morning that his Mrs B, on hearing an unexpected racket from the other side of the fence last night, sent a text to her husband (he was elsewhere; they don't send texts to each other when they're watching the telly - as far as I know) enquiring whether anyone knew that the boys had escaped. I assured him - and indirectly, of course, her, that all was in order and I was completely in control of the situation.

Have a lovely short leave - and, as always, thanks for reading.

Yay! We used the lawn tonight, for the first time this year! People, we've had a lovely evening, not least because it was a Newtonian's birthday today, and we were all able to enjoy the appropriately named 'rocky road' cake ..... Oh boy, could I employ an extended metaphor there!
Thank you so much for the absolutely delicious and epicurean offertoire: it was fantastic! (To use a word that I constantly discourage my English students from using!)

I re-read this morning's bloglog. Pathetic. Not even remotely worth reading - but then, you try writing up a diary when you've only just got up: not easy, you know. Still, it was pretty feeble, so apologies for that - especially when you've probably logged on expecting a witty account of what's been going on here in the past 24 hours. At least you learnt that the lawn was mown. And now you know that the Newtonians have used it, too!

I must tell you of this morning's English lesson with one of my fifth year sets. I was going through a CE trial paper with one of my students and was having a bit of a go at him, as I thought that he should not still be using capital letters in the middle of sentences. (My nephew did that; I never quite knew why.) The dualogue went as follows:

Me: ..... but why do you need to use a capital C to start a word in the middle of a sentence?

Him: But sir, that's not a capital C.

Me: But it is! Even I, with all my ophthalmological problems, can see that that's a capital C! You'd be no good as a sailor you know, if you have problems with Cs! (Seas. Ed.)

Him: I don't have problems with Cs!

Another: I shouldn't worry: Sir has problems with his Is! (Eyes. Ed.)

As quick-wittedness goes, I thought that was brilliant. (To use another word I discourage my lot from using.)

And I'm not going to try to outdo that tonight. So, goodnight all. I must get back to the rocky road. Newton lodgemastering, I mean.

Oh, and btw, I did p-p-p-p-pick up a Penguin - and I did get away with it.

Don't you dare sneak on me.

Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable. This computer of mine really is destined for the dump. I will say no more.

No much news to report, as Mr Bryan was on duty last night and I learn with pleasure thatall went well - and, as I type this morning, I can spy Dr H, eagerly awaiting this post as he stands by his front door, wondering whether he should wait another minute or two (it's 7.03am) or stride purposefully towards his responsibilities of the day.

What I can tell you, though, is that I mowed the Newton lawns yesterday, back and front. So now, all we need is a little more evening sunshine and the rear lawn can come into its own in the summer evenings. I must say that it does look very pleasant, complete with lawn stripes - which will last a very short time indeed, no doubt!

Fascinating, you know, writing at this time of the morning: I can see everything happening and a new day beginning. And talking of such new days, I must go and join it.

Nearly Short Leave. Have a good day.

I'm so sorry! I forgot to include a heartfelt and collective WLYG in that last post! But thank you, belatedly: it was delicious!

It's all a pretence, you know. Muesli, I mean. There I was, first thing this morning, having ushered the LMs out of the door, pouring out the nutty mix of whatever's in our favourite brand - or rather I would have been, if there'd been more than a single cashew nut on the floor of the box. (I have to be careful, (a) not to mention a brand name, and (b) because the originator of the aformentioned cereal was, until recently, one of our neighbours in our other life.) I reached for our emergency pack, which claims to be a luxury item from a store not so far away from where I type. I'm blowed if I could spot the difference. Still, not to worry: they're both very agreeable mueslis.

I held a lodge meeting tonight, in which I spoke about growing up and personal hygiene. All the usual stuff: how the male body changes, how we all want to live in a fragrant lodge, how we should use soap as well as water in the shower - and, like the best cabin crew members, I informed the residents about the location of the Newtonian shower units. They were very receptive, you'll be glad to hear - and the only thing I need to add here is that spray deodorants are not permitted here. I've initiated the term 'PSFAs', or 'proper showers for all'.

As for tonight's chocolate intake, that took the form of Penguins. You can imagine, can you not, the stream of biscuit-wrapper jokes that are imprinted on every one! I endeavoured to give appropriately glacial looks to each, but failed, miserably. Mrs C was standing, in a manner akin to the fruit-parfait girls of the Empire cinemas of yesteryear, doling out the biscuits, which seemed to be as crumby as the jokes thereon, and, when her gaze was averted, I attempted to reach into the box. No chance. I was told, pretty directly, that 'they are all counted out by Mrs Hannah, you know', so that, dear Followers, was (almost) that. But I know that there are three left downstairs in our kitchen ..........

Incidentally, the mention of breakfast earlier reminded me that I learnt tonight that one of you de-shells boiled eggs for your ever-loving at the table. I bet you don't really. (50% of what I hear ..... !)

James May and I have much in common. We're both trained and qualified musicians, we're both passionate about cars and motorbikes, we've both had - or in his case, has - ridiculously long hair, and we're both published writers. Admittedly, he probably receives considerably more dosh than I do when he writes for the motoring section of the DT, as opposed to the meagre 1000 word efforts that I humbly submit to the education editor of the aforementioned journal from time to time, but I was thinking this morning, as my eyes scanned his excellent account of how he lusts after a VW camper van, that his writing style and mine are not wholly dissimilar. Except that he's wittier. And uses better similes. And he gets to travel to the town of Wareham, the place of my formative years, in a Ferrari.

And, having told you all of that, I cannot now for the life of me remember why I did. I'm sure there was a link: perhaps it will come to me later in this bloggerlog.

And so term has now started. All our LMs seem to have had a great time across The Channel - or La Manche, as I'm sure it should properly be called - and all were in excellent form tonight. I enjoyed a most stimulating discussion about how one commences one's learning of the bagpipes on a ruler (which, I suggested, probably resulted in a rather more tuneful accord than that which might emanate from a more advanced learner - a thought which resulted in a 'playful' punch on my distal radius), and I was invited to partake of delicious cake - on the condition that another section of my anatomy did more than plonk itself in front of a television screen. I endeavoured to explain that, anotomically, that was impossible, but 17-year-old daughters tend to be particularly unimpressed by their fathers' sloth, imho.

An OS Bishop of Warrington praught tonight: I wonder how many of our current Newtonians might end up in an episcopal state? (Ordained as a bishop, I mean.)

Yes, they're all fine. Happy after a good day, still a bit tired - and fast asleep. (Ho ho.)

What a great day. It's Mrs C's birthday today, and what better present could she wish for than 27 gift-wrapped 10-year-olds, complete with a full complement of laundry? She was, of course, thrilled - as were we both, in the knowledge that our Little Men were back with us again. They've obviously had a great time in France, but such were their displays of affection when they returned that we were deeply moved by the fact that they cared about their lodge as much as they do.

I held a small, impromptu party for some of our friends and colleagues, and it was lovely to be able to entertain a very buoyant and relaxed HM, as well as several others. How fortunate we are to work for someone whom we regard as our 'boss' and our friend. He's a good man, you know - and I'm sure things will work out well for him in the future. Mrs C and I have worked for him for 13 years, and it's going to be difficult to say farewell.

I don't know whether you've bloggerlogged while the troops have been away, but there are a couple of entries I've compose during the intervening days. Do have a read of them, and comment if you'd like to. Googlemail should act as the mediator, it seems.

More tomorrow, as always.