Lazing down the misty river before dusk atop a Scudamore punt, face pointing to the West wishing but if for only a moment you would feel the warmth of mother sun on this cool late November afternoon. The fog chills your shoulders until you shiver, but the majestic site of St John’s keeps your keen eyes drawn and your sense of wonder engaged. What beauty came from such dark times you think to yourself as you take a moment to ponder the million thoughts that have passed by here over the ages.