Roll over Regent Street

For years and years the moulin seemed locked up.  I murkily knew that Jean Sabatier lived here but he was a mysterious man who lived by candle light, washed in rain water, and pissed on the fire to put it out.
It still surprises me to see the windows lit even though it was me who'd turned the lights on before BS's evening evacuation. 
Coming home tonight was heart warming.  The gas man had given the nod, the Chapot boys had flipped the switch and, in addition to the light there is heat.