Let there be light

It's been almost six years since we moved down from Edinburgh to this little-known corner of Wales. For the first three months of our time, Barbara and I lived in a tiny converted barn in the village near here. It was fairly basic - the ground floor was all open plan with a miniscule fireplace at one end, but set into the side wall rather than the end as you might expect. It had two elderly storage heaters, one in the middle of the long downstairs wall, and the other on the landing upstairs. I tried turning them on once, but they emitted only a dry dusty smell, ate electricity like it was free and gave off no heat whatsoever. Somehow in the conversion the owners had managed to cram four tiny bedrooms, a bathroom and a shower-room into the upstairs space. It was obviously designed as a holiday let and was quite unsuitable for winter living, but it was all that was available at short notice. My abiding memory of the place is one of bitter, bitter cold.

We moved into the cottage on the research farm as soon as we could - long before I'd finished decorating it, but after the central heating had been installed and the ancient wiring renewed.

Or most of the wiring renewed.

We had been promised an outside light, to guide us safely down the treacherous and uneven path of an evening. For some reason it never appeared. Until now.

Six years on, and has it been worth the wait? I don't know yet. I'll tell you after dark.

well there's not much point turning it on during the day