He looked tight last night. The most tense I’ve ever seen him. Because he knew he was going to win. And I suppose it’s a lot worse knowing you’re SUPPOSED to win and anything else would be a huge upset and wondering about the possibility of the huge upset and having to wait for several hours before finding out – that would suck. So I don’t blame him for being anxious. I love him more for showing it.

Of course he won. Of course his acceptance speech was delightful. Of course he came backstage into the press room and answered questions intelligently, thoughtfully, even the complicated political ones about arts funding in England, taking care to note that his opinion, really, shouldn’t be weighted heavily, but that he had one nonetheless and was not afraid to share it.

Unfortunately he did not want to share any dancing, explaining that he needed a moment alone and would be enjoying some Mamma Mia time then to get those moves out. Adorable but also rather revealing. He’s pretty tired. He said as much. It’s been a long season. He played the season perfectly. He must be exhausted. He wants to go away for a while and not be so in our faces. That might not be best for us, but it will, really, be best for him. Colin Firth wants to go home and cook. So there. Won’t that daydream sustain you until he comes back? Let him go for a while. He’s earned it.

Photos from Wenn.com and MARK RALSTON/Frazer Harrison/Ethan Miller/Kevin Winter/ROBYN BECK/GABRIEL BOUYS/Gettyimages.com