A Little More Eco Friendly?

When I came to live on Lewis the township (England/Lowland Scotland/Wales = village) I lived in had a main road running through it (on which the house in which I lived was situated) and many side roads which had grown up in accordance with the shape of crofts and the need for access.

There was very little street lighting outside of Stornoway and we lived 7 miles from the town so we had nothing except the occasional light at a crossroads perhaps. Given that the midwinter hours of daylight were only about 6 or 7 that meant a lot of time outside the house was spent in the dark.  

That had the benefit of fabulous starry nights (reminiscent, more recently, of living in semi-rural New Zealand) and a highly visible Aurora borealis (in the case of the Hebrides).  

Now most of my readers will well remember that a torch with a bright light was likely to be a fairly bulky object with big expensive batteries. We all carried torches when we went out at night and, indeed, they were a very important part of life in the '70s. Then people grew hungry for street lights and if a Councillor could not get at least some street lights for his constituents he risked being replaced at the next local election. 

Houses also started having outside lights as a matter of course. Very tiny very bright torches and head lights also became the norm.

In the last 10 to 15 years it became easier to fit battery operated LED lights in difficult places outside. At the same time all my indoor lights have been replaced by LED ones and the total wattage in the house is probably less that the wattage in my living room 15 years ago.

Last Spring I started replacing the outside battery operated lights with solar lights. So now my house is  well illuminated outside by movement operated solar panel lights.  

When I was 3 and my Dad taught me how to wire 1½v  bulbs and batteries and switches in parallel and series and later how to deal with 13amp electrics I could never have believed that the outside of my house would be illuminated by solar power lights installed for little more than the cost of a year's supply of dry batteries. 

Long Days and Light Nights

A little while ago Katherine commented on my posting From Stornoway to Ullapool in relation to the fact that nights didn’t get truly dark on Lewis in the middle of the night at this time of year.  I’ve been waiting for the right moment (and the time given all the visitors I’m having).  Tonight seems to be that moment.

It’s a half cloudy and half clear night as the following panorama to the North shows:

 

The sky really is as light as that and this is the time the photo was taken:

A Question of Light and Time

I wake.  I wonder what time it is.  No point lying here.  The time doesn't present itself as a thought.  I open an eye slowly.  As I do so I am blinded by a bright orange light.  I close my eye hurriedly.

This is not what I expected.  I haven't woken from a nightmare or even a dream.  So why the flash of light?  Where am I?  It is silent.  It is warm and cosy.  I'm not in France - the window would be open and I'd hear the noises of the night.  The air's different too.  I remember.  I'm in Glasgow at a friend's.

So why the bright orange light?  I open my right eye very carefully.  It's still there making other visual contact impossible.  This is becoming a game.  I've had lots of very weird and horrible dreams and nightmares recently and often the worst nightmares have occurred when I've 'known' that I was awake.  I know I'm awake now.  But this isn't a dream.  It isn't even a nightmare.  So am I awake?

I open my eye again.  Again the light enters.  The question of time remains unanswered.

I try to re-group my senses.  My watch, I remember, is on the bedside table.  The bedside table is on the other side of the bed to the one I'm facing.  I turn over and gingerly open an eye for a third or fourth time.  I don't want to be temporarily blinded again.  This time the light's gone.  No.  I realise that's not true.  The light is not bright but a soft orange glow.

And now the realisation.  There is a tiny crack between the curtains where I didn't draw them properly  Outside there is a bright orange street light.  Something that could not be further from the reality of anywhere I usually stay.

I lay there wondering how long all this has lasted and why my brain failed to analyse the issue more speedily.  Then I wonder why I'm wondering that.  So I decide to get up and make a cup of tea.

"It's a funny old world, Dad."  as Andy would have said.