The news was enough to put a spring in the step and a wee bit of gladness in the heart.
Colin Firth has won an Oscar.
I know, I know, in this cynical age we're not really supposed to give a hoot about such baubles ("sure, don't you know it's all a fix ...?" go the snipers).
But still with The King's Speech, if not technically sweeping the boards, doing rather well at the Oscars by winning Best Film, Best Director, Best Script and, of course, Best Actor, we were reminded that sometimes, just sometimes, awards go to the right people.
Critics may drone that the film isn't historically accurate or that it gives a much-needed shot in the arm to the monarchy, but it's essentially a modest film about relationships. Plus it stars Colin Firth...
If the Americans have George Clooney (cool, modest, self-effacing, charming, rather dishy), we have Colin (cool, modest, self-effacing, charming, rather dishy). Plus, Firth is really a reboot of the endearing charming English gentleman.
Take his acceptance speech: "I've a feeling my career's just peaked," he joked before proceeding to thank his wife Livia "for putting up with my fleeting delusions of royalty".
Close your eyes and you could be listening to Leslie Howard or David Niven.
So, the world won't change, but still I'm glad he won. Time to dig out those old Pride -amp; Prejudice DVDs ...