I spent months walking past a pub conversion, when it was in its embryonic state. Every day I thought please let it be a pub. It turned out to be three probably very nice flats, with wooden blinds and opaque lights, not a bar or bottle of wine in sight.

On the way home tonight I saw the Star of Bethlehem before me - a pub sign glowing in the evening light. Bastards. Not content with their flat conversions, the wily foxes have added a pub sign to the outside to further antagonise me.