"Damn," said I to my stuffed animals, "there goes another of those fantastically expensive halogen bulbs."
It turned out not to be my bulb, but every wall socket in the joint simultaneously going for a Burton. We checked the fuse box, which involved my having to jump up and wriggle, in my pyjamas, into a small cubbyhole set at chest height outside the front door (my housemate could not jump and wriggle because she had a baby strapped to her back), but could find nothing amiss.
No wall sockets means not only no lamp but no alarm clock radio, no computer and no fan heater, which in a house which has a busted boiler and has been gradually cooling for sixteen hours is something of a bummer. Also no fridge, but that's hardly an issue in said house.
Good job I'm going out for a curry tonight.