I dearly wish I was back at Trinity and could go over to the nice dimly lit library at this hour (located approximately 20 paces from my bedroom window over the roof of Blackwell's great room) and doze over some memoir of ded fighter pilots or Graham Greene or something cheery like that. Such memories give me fits of Irish Catholic guilt for liking England so much.
It was all so easy when I was a child. Johnny Carson would come on TV, Doc whatsisname would start playing Johnny's theme, it would be Time For Bed. Thanks a LOT Johnny for croaking and messing up my internal clock!