I just got back from Oxford, which I left for yesterday afternoon. It's about an hour from London, home of the famed university, and the sort of place where hotels offer picnic hampers and historians for walks and the charming medieval lanes are easily explored at twilight, especially for a glimpse between gates of the colleges, very independent and private and only opened to the public when they feel like it, and on whatever terms. I rushed to the Ashmolean Museum, where there is an extraordinary exhibition on old Greek burial artifacts including some stunning gold crowns of leaves and flowers from antiquity. I also enjoyed the medieval England section and breezed through the Italian Renaissance. In fact, I was very grateful that my friends here encouraged me to stay overnight as even that seemed all too brief. I only had time to go to the museum, walk around for an hour or so at dusk, dress for dinner, etc. and then meet an exceedingly well-mannered, and, as it turned out, quite sexy young man who, when we met in passing, pressed me for an irresistible midnight assignation, which was lovely. We met and went for a moonlit stroll across the quiet town, mostly stone buildings and narrow streets, to a collegiate bar, where I laughed gaily at his accurate description - 'It's not nice, but it's open' - and tugged him closer by his lapels as he peppered the edge of my shoulderblade exposed by my gown with cool, Gin & Tonic-tinged kisses. Remind me of that when it's time for air conditioning.