It's been a good evening, and now the troops are reading silently. I must apologise for highlighting my mathematical inability earlier as far as reporting the number of blumberjacks (blog followers; log, you see.) that formed the nucleus of my audience, but I hope those of you who tune into the other Newton channel (Twitter) received my update.

Tonight's feasting amid the revelry consisted of orange segments, lovingly cut up by Mrs C and Miss A, jammy dodgers and fruit. How different that all is to my one cup of milk - or was it one of those tiny bottles? - and two ginger nuts. We always tried to get away with taking more than our rations, but we invariably heard the stentorian tones of Mr Burton, the deputy head, who was watching us from the landing above, rebuking us and threatening us with a good thrashing if we were discovered. (His bark was worse than his bite, though - most of the time.)

Games night incorporated a jolly game of Twister, in which the competitors gave very good and convincing performances as contortionists. No-one turned the radio on tonight, which was surprising: perhaps they were just too busy having a good time.

I must apologise, too, for the series of terrible puns. That arises from my having stated (oh goodness, I sound like a Latin textbook) that I could make a pun out of anything, while on a choir tour. (It was during dinner in the hotel, and a jolly good one it was, too.) One of the choristers looked at me, picked up a napkin and said "Go on then, sir, make a pun out of this in the next sixty seconds and I'll give you a sweet ration. That's the deal."

"And if I don't I suppose it will have folded," was my instant riposte.

Oh the wit. And the self-effacing modesty, of course.

Bonne nuit.

Marvellous. We've passed the 300th milestone - and I'm able to celebrate in style, for various (much appreciated) reasons. Good wishes have been arriving from all over the world, and my international audience has surpassed all previous records, the greatest to date having been 33. I'm still being monitored by the Chinese authorities, so my stats tell me, and Romania and Georgia are also on the radar, not to mention (although I'd better) Australia, France and Switzerland. Japan has featured, and so have many other nations, so if the Newton Blog is playing even the smallest part in uniting nations, then I'm pleased.

I hope you all had a wonderful weekend, as Mrs C, Alice C and I did. A lovely and bracing walk by the sea was just what the doctor ordered, as was much reading, the chance to listen properly to Sir Elton's latest album, 'The Union', which I have to say left me a little disappointed, but that's probably because I need to listen again; Casulaty, of course, which the Mrs and I thought just a little heavy this week; then off to play for the morning service, where my rendition of Bach's Toccata and Fugue in D minor at the end led to generous applause, back for a deliciously fine Sunday lunch and then another very agreeable walk through the Dorset countryside with the ever-active, affectionate, ever-loving, ever-forgiving friend - and Isla, of course. (Oh don't worry, Mrs C never reads the blog, so I know I'll get away with it.)

Tonight has been as enjoyable as ever: Jaffa cakes, Quavers, which nearly left me a little crotchety, as I thought I wasn't going to be able to wangle a packet, but I just had to wait a minim in order to stave off my hunger pangs. Mind you, I did end up in a little trouble from Mrs C and Miss A, as I'd invited the petrol-heads into our snug to watch Top Gear and was happily ensconced myself, when suddenly I heard uxorial tones suggesting that perhaps I might care to bear in mind that there were other members of the lodge, and that sitting in the snug for most of the evening wasn't exactly as helpful as it might be. All was well in the end, though, once I'd exercised diplomatic powers.

Time to go - and search for a post-retirement position in the United Nations.

Goodnight - wherever you may be.

So here we are, then: the 300th post.I said I'd do something different, and this, my friends, is it. I'm sitting at my computer in West Dorset, having successfully led a Bridport choir through their service schedule for Sunday, and they were, as always, most appreciative. They also give out Quality Streets at the end of every rehearsal, so that's another reason for going.

As for tomorrow, well, it'll be a 'somewhat relaxed' start to the day, and then, subject to weather conditions being clement, I shall mount my trusty motorbike and take it for a spin around the locality, endeavouring not to instil too much fear into the more senior members of the community, one of whom I am due to become in the not-too-distant.Not exactly earth-shatteringly spectacular, I know, but just a small way of celebrating.

Normal service will be resumed on Sunday night. For now, though,I will wish you a wonderful weekend - and

goodnight.

There: I told you it would be different.

Post number 299, and I must tell you, my Followers, that my day started with the jocular headmagisterial rebuke I'd been expecting since telling you about Coffeecupgate. And seeing as Our Leader is one of my most ardent and faithful Followers, I'd better make amends, say sorry and agree that my post did indeed contain, as he so aptly put it, 'a little too much information'! As for the Thursday morning biscuit upgrade, well, I'll let you know. Nothing wrong with custard creams, or digestives, of course, and people such as your correspondent consume far too many of both, but those shortbread cookies that you and I enjoy at parents' mornings, they're as good as it gets.

Mr Porter-night tonight, and it sounded as if all was going swimmingly. Indeed, I think the aforementioned was enjoying one of the computer games himself, from what I could hear through the green baize door.

I should tell you that as I am typing, Jasmine, our ancient tabby, is on the floor behind me, chomping away at the contents of a tin of 'Gourmet Gold' cat food, 'with Ocean Fish'. Ocean fish my **** : if the purveyors think I'm going to believe that some Scottish fisherman risked life and limb in the Atlantic to catch the contents of the meal that Jasmine's just finished then I'm King James the First.

And that, dear readers, enables me to segue nicely into telling you that a new guitar teacher (I think) really is His Majesty. I couldn't believe my eyes at lunchtime, for there, sitting on Mr Bishop's right hand (!) was, honestly, James I. All that was needed was for him to be clutching a copy of the Authorised Bible and I'd have been completely fooled. Perhaps I'm wrong, though, and he's actually the new lute teacher.

I'd better stop. Already I can feel another tap on the shoulder coming on, so I will desist from writing more, and wish you, on the eve of this blog's 300th post, a very fond goodnight.

This, dear friends, is post number 298. So this means that number 300 will need to wait until after Short Leave, or, as you will have already calculated, you'll have to log on to an extraordinary post (no change there, then) from deepest Dorset. The thing is, I'm due to take the choir practice at a church just outside Bridport that night (they want me to take over as organist and Master of the Choristers when I leave SF at the end of next academic year), so it may be a bit later than usual. And yes, we do have computers down there. One of the farmhands (and we know about them and their frumbling ways) puts the coal in every two hours.

Talking of such things as broadband speeds, what I've never understood is when people (who pretend to know such things) say that their broadband is 'five times faster', what DO they mean? Five times faster than what? It seems to me, Luddite that I am (although my younger colleagues are always amazed to learn that Grandpa has a Twitter account and can text), that there is no starting point. I mean, your broadband speed could be 'three times faster' than mine (although mine's pretty speedy) or vice versa. So, so what? No, I don't get that. And there's a jolly good letter to the Telegraph today, from a bloke in Kenya, about such things. Worth a read.

I was asked tonight whether the rezzies could watch 'The Nail Biting Match'. Imagining, wrongly, that our minimalist Sky package incorporated Sky Sports, I said yes. Unfortunately it doesn't, so they couldn't see it after all. Fortunately, they're a very forgiving lot. And anyway, what's they joy in watching people biting their nails? No, seriously, I did try to upgrade, but I couldn't find our PIN, and the only person I knew who had it was Hannah C, and she was at a celebratory 'do' in X'ian, the local (excellent) Chinese place in Summertown. (Btw, if you're looking for somewhere to lunch on Friday, try X'ian, and tell Gary, the owner, that I sent you. Discounts have been known.)

It's been a lovely evening here tonight, and all is well. Mrs C's sister is off to NZ tomorrow: perhaps they'll call in to see my rival blogmeister! (On the other hand ...... )

Goodnight.

We're coming up to the 300th blog-log, dear friends, and that will happen in three days' time. I must think of some way in which to celebrate, possibly by doing something very excitingly daring such as typing in a different colour. Or font. Or some such. You'll just have to wait and see.

As it's Tuesday, Mrs C and I have been off duty, and, save for a persistent thumping from the common room above our snug (which, on obergrupenfuhrial investigation proved to be no more than someone tapping their foot on the floor) during Holby City, all has been calm, so my excellent deputy has obviously had everything under control. I'm still curious to know why so many of the Holby cast are leaving the series: I really must ask those in the know. Trouble at t' mill, I suspect. I do enjoy Mr Hanson's pithy comebacks, I must say: I wish I could be so apposite so quickly. There's a book, I think, containing some of the finest retorts made by eminent people; it's called 'I wish I'd said that', but I've only ever browsed through its pages, and that was years ago now.

I keep meaning to tell you about how the Newton Blog featured (features) in the most recent Ofsted inspection report! I hadn't noticed it myself, so thank you, loyal Follower, for drawing it to my attention, and, as I said to my informant, I think (but cannot prove) such a mention is an international first. I know there's a HM in New Zealand who writes a regular blog (Huntley prep school), but whether it's ever featured in an inspection report I don't know. Anyway, the NB wouldn't have been mentioned if you, dear readers, hadn't told the inspectorate about it, so - thank you very much indeed.

I think that'll do for tonight, revelling in indulgent self-aggrandisement as I am, so I crave your forgiveness, and wish you goodnight.

Team Newton was in full swing tonight, what with shoe-cleaning, custard creams, hot chocolate being served, fruit and Cadbury's Celebrations for those whose footwear warranted such reward! All accompanied, of course, by the music of the 80s blasting through the mighty (well, not really that mighty, but they do have a good bass on them) speakers of the Clubhouse.

Many congratulations, by the way, to our new Follower, who's managed to weave her/his way through the maze of this blog's idiosyncrasies so that s/he can join the swelling band who can comment on anything that might arise in my nightly ramblings.

Did you know that three of my former pupils are now my colleagues? Mr Edwards, who was my tutee in the 80s, Mr Corry, who was in my form when I was teaching at Papplewick, and whose youthful features feature in a team photo, also from the 80s, have often been used to raise the odd smile. And now Mr Hawkins, our 'super-gapper' (he's a graduate, you see, so he's not just a gapper) has joined us, and he was a member of my 3C here in the 90s.

I received another 'LOL' from the HM in an e-mailed response this morning: he was(quite rightly) getting annoyed with us for taking mugs of coffee into form rooms. I sent a response, saying that yes, there was indeed a mug in my room, but it was nothing to do with me. I labelled the message 'No mug', which, as I say, resulted in 'LOL. D' (For the unitiatiated, and those not up to speed with text-speak, LOL stands for 'laughing out loud'.) (Btw means 'by the way' and atm means 'at the moment'. There are others, like ROFL, which means 'rolling on floor laughing', and then they get rather rude, so I'll stop there.)

Some Followers have been enquiring about Newton's other channel, namely its Twitter account. It's very simple: just log on to www.twitter.com/newtoniannews and there you are. Or rather, there it is. If you're feeling very techno, you could add it to your RSS feeds and then you'll automatically receive any updates. Please don't imagine, as one Follower did last term, that no tweets means that the parrot has fallen off its perch; it just means that either that I haven't had anything of note to say, or I've forgotten that I have a Twitter account.

It does occur that parrots seem to be featuring in this blog rather regularly: I wonder if there's anything significant about that. I know another stupid joke about parrots: man walks into pet shop to buy a pair of parrots. (Is that the right collective noun?) He sees one pair and doesn't really like them, but then spies two more much higher up. 'Can I buy those?' he asks. 'Well, yes, but they're on higher perches'.

ROFL. (Having fallen off perch.)

Goodnight.