It's snowing here in North Oxford, and has been for the past four hours, so it's pretty deep now. We (well, more 'they', really) watched Mrs Doubtfire, which they all loved, and which has just finished, and as I went into Osprey to turn the lights out, the following dialogue occurred:

LM: Sir! Sir! Come over here and look out of the window! It's SO romantic!

Me: What is?

LM: Sir! Just come and see!

As the Osprey windows look on to the home of the Bryan family, I could only imagine that Mr and Mrs B were enjoying a candle-lit dinner for two, or something like that, but no, 'twas not that which had occasioned my summons. I looked out onto the most wonderful picture of a snow-laden back garden, and part of Summertown, and it was indeed, to borrow the word, 'romantic'. My interlocutor and I sat on the window-sill and we admired the view for a minute or two; a true memory was etched for eternity.

I then went into Kingfisher to turn their lights out, and, after almost all the occupants had turned their lights out, there was one, the other side of the partition, that remained on.

Me: Who IS that boy who hasn't turned his light out?

LM: It's X, sir, but, ha ha, he's not there .... !! Ha ha!!

I went over and turned the light out myself.

Me: It's not that funny. (Sir bashes into the locker at the end of the bed) Ow!

LM: No, but that is !!

Goodnight.