PhotoStories | Switching on Winter
I love light. As a child, I was known to switch on all the lights in the house because I loved it so (and then get a lecture from one of my parents about electricity costs and wastage). I have an associated fascination for lamps and string lights and streamers and candles and tea lights and lanterns..even bright resplendent full moons. I can almost imagine The Significant Other nodding his head vigorously at this admission as he recalls all the times we’ve been out and I’ve been busy admiring the lamps and light fixtures in the place while he tries to talk to me.And that is the reason why winter in London is a miserable time for me. The mere six hours of dull grey light in a day are just not enough for my soul and now that I am a grown-up, I also realise the significance of electricity costs and the ramifications of wastage and have to unhappily adhere to grown-up norms of prudent living. Pah.And so, when they put up Christmas lights in London– although a bit too early – I’m certainly not one of those complaining. Last night they switched on the lights at Regent Street and Oxford Street and I was there in a flash, soaking it all in.
I wasn’t the only one, though. The moon seemed to be taking it in too (much to my delight).
I certainly needed the cheer.