I never thought that I would ever write a sentence like this but, there is no getting round it, I am all in favour of low sodium lighting.
At least, I think that’s the name for the dimmer street lighting that has been imposed by benign authorities upon our suburb. And, while I’m no expert in chemistry, I presume the reference to “sodium” means there is less salt in these lampposts.
Or perhaps the authorities have started buying Euro-bulbs from the supermarket, where you can always see small crowds gathered round the lighting section as they try to figure out which bulb they need. Used to be a straightforward affair. Now you need a degree in advanced electronics.
Upshot: the light is always dimmer. I disapprove of this in the house, and some reports suggest it is causing the lieges to fall ill with depression. However, I rather like it outdoors at night as, once more, everything has a Victorian or Edwardian feel and, despite dying young and having to eat your own shoes, people were happier then.
Let there be darkness. Well, not too dark, but we never had any need for those interrogative lights that blinded you if you looked straight at them. The new lights seem more natural. We might even get a better view of the stars eventually, unless they’ve made these low sodium too.
It was always a drawback of living in the sticks that, once darkness fell, you couldn’t go for an evening stroll, unless with a torch and a sure knowledge of where you were going.
I like an evening stroll round the suburb, when there are fewer pesky humans about. Indeed, I started to speculate that, perhaps I should live my life upside down, like some proper writers have been known to do, becoming night owls.
Or perhaps I could get a job on the night-shift. I did a few in my youth and, yes, it took some getting used to. It felt like you were living in a parallel universe to the rest of society. Some older fellows, who had done night shift for decades, had owl eyes.
I can’t think it would be all that good for your health. It’s bad enough trying to get sufficient vitamin D through Scotia Minor’s grey, cloud-crowded skies, without spending much of the day tucked up in bed.
No, I’m getting into the realms of fantasy here. An evening stroll round the ‘burb is as far as I want to take this. Indeed, there is still enough light from the conurbation to see your way to the top of the suburban hill, where I sometimes look down upon the city and think, “One day, none of this will be mine”.
Indoors, I’ve been experimenting with candles of late, to create a greater sense of hygge, that Scandinavian cosiness thing. However, my friend who comes round to watch DVDs won’t let me light them as she believes she died in a fire in a previous life.
She also thinks she was a sailor. Another friend, a high-flying lawyer, believes she was the Queen of Egypt. I have alerted the authorities, but they refuse to act. However, I am glad that, in their wisdom, these same unseen authorities have dimmed down our street lights.
