I’m dreaming of a light Christmas
SOARING ENERGY BILLS ARE TAKING THE SHINE OFF FESTIVITIES JUST WHEN WE NEED IT THE MOST
THERE is a house not far from where I live that, in the run up to Christmas, could give Blackpool Illuminations a run for its money.
I’m not saying they have a lot of lights but, once plugged in and the switch thrown, you could probably spot this residence from the International Space Station.
Every window is ablaze, the garden bedecked with inflatable illuminated reindeer, a luminous Santa, giant snowmen. Meanwhile, on the roof, a homemade sleigh is alight with multi-coloured twinkle.
It’s gaudy and brash and I love it, the garishness of it all an antidote to the dark nights and dark times.
By now, the week after Remembrance, Santa and his 200-watt suit are usually well ensconced amid the begonias. But not this year.
I drove past the other day and the house is, well, just a house. Just another semi-detached in an ordinary street, the only light coming from the TV in the front room.
Perhaps the householders have moved. Or perhaps they have tired of the monumental effort involved in putting a smile on people’s faces year after year. Or maybe it’s that the cost-of-living crisis has bitten.
I have often wondered, sitting at the traffic lights and admiring the display, what the electricity bill might come to; what the price to be paid is in January for that much wattage.
Perhaps the homeowners, mindful of the energy crisis, the escalating bills, the economic uncertainty, have thought that too. And this year they’ve pulled the plug.
It seems they aren’t alone.
I read this week that Christmas lights are going out all over Britain as more and more people struggle with the cost of living. Individuals, streets, communities are all pulling back on lighting up their bit of the world, terrified of spiralling bills.
This is a disaster for charities, of course. Many of those who put on light displays do so to raise cash for local good causes. People bring their kids to see the light show and throw a quid in a bucket.
But now those buckets may well remain empty. Charity bosses reckon the switch-off will reduce donations by at least £500,000.
That’s a huge loss to a great many people at a time when they need help the most.
But this wholesale plunge into darkness has an even bigger knock-on effect; it saps the general joy. The look on the faces of the kids (and adults) when confronted with festive light displays is joyous too. And then there is the joy in the sheer daftness of goodhearted people who spend days up ladders, hammer in hand, decorating their homes and streets.
From the simplest of one pound fairy strings to expensively lit-up shop windows, I defy anyone not to feel uplifted by the sight of Christmas lights. Lose them and a little of the magic of Christmas is lost. Light also means hope.
And whether that’s a church candle or a 10 feet high glowing Santa, we could all do with more – not less – of that.
Individuals, streets, communities are all pulling back on lighting up their bit of the world, terrified of spiralling bills