My neighbour leaves his lights on all night
I had to work late last night - hence no blog. Talking to a bunch of farmers over near the border with England. Some of them even expressed an interest in what I try to do for a living, which was nice of them. And I get paid for a day's work, so it wasn't a complete waste of time. But I didn't get home until past midnight and still the lights next door were blazing away.
Perhaps I should explain that I live in what is euphemistically called a Farm Cottage but is in fact a Semi. For about eighteen months the adjacent house was empty, which was very nice. Then Spencer moved in next door with his extended family. They're all right, really, if you can cope with the noise that two young children make. And Spencer's a bit of a handyman, which comes in useful. The fifteen year restoration of my Alfa Romeo Duetto has come on apace since he moved in, though it's still not finished.
But he will leave his lights on all night.
Maybe it's a Dudley thing. That's where he's from. Perhaps light in the city is so ubiquitous that you don't think about it. But out here in the middle of nowhere, when there is a clear night you can see the milky way. We're about the same point north as Oxford, if you look at a map, but the first winter I spent down here I saw the northern lights. Aberystwyth, the nearest town of any size, is both far enough away and small enough that you don't see a dull orange glow on the nighttime horizon. Sometimes, when it's cold and clear at night and I'm taking the dogs out for their last chance before bed, I wander up the road to a spot a few hundred yards away, where the woods open out into a big clearing, and lie down in the middle of the tarmac, the better to gaze upwards. There's never any traffic to worry about, just the cold. It's one of the great plusses that far outweigh the minuses of living out in the sticks.
And all this is ruined because my neighbour insists on leaving his lights on all night.
Maybe some day I'll ask him why he does it.
Perhaps I should explain that I live in what is euphemistically called a Farm Cottage but is in fact a Semi. For about eighteen months the adjacent house was empty, which was very nice. Then Spencer moved in next door with his extended family. They're all right, really, if you can cope with the noise that two young children make. And Spencer's a bit of a handyman, which comes in useful. The fifteen year restoration of my Alfa Romeo Duetto has come on apace since he moved in, though it's still not finished.
But he will leave his lights on all night.
Maybe it's a Dudley thing. That's where he's from. Perhaps light in the city is so ubiquitous that you don't think about it. But out here in the middle of nowhere, when there is a clear night you can see the milky way. We're about the same point north as Oxford, if you look at a map, but the first winter I spent down here I saw the northern lights. Aberystwyth, the nearest town of any size, is both far enough away and small enough that you don't see a dull orange glow on the nighttime horizon. Sometimes, when it's cold and clear at night and I'm taking the dogs out for their last chance before bed, I wander up the road to a spot a few hundred yards away, where the woods open out into a big clearing, and lie down in the middle of the tarmac, the better to gaze upwards. There's never any traffic to worry about, just the cold. It's one of the great plusses that far outweigh the minuses of living out in the sticks.
And all this is ruined because my neighbour insists on leaving his lights on all night.
Maybe some day I'll ask him why he does it.
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