I’m not sure there’s any such thing as a second childhood. It’s more a matter of a continuous childhood with a bit of a break somewhere in the middle. Leastways, that’s how I comfort myself when I’m plainly exhibiting the symptoms of increasing simplicity.
That and reminding myself that Thoreau, among others, urged us all to simplify.
So, anyway, I’ve learned that that moment of panic when waking in a darkened room, collecting the shadows of the night together until I remember where I am is nothing new, and certainly nothing unique. For as long as I can remember, when I stay in a hotel room I leave the light on in the bathroom, pulling the door almost but not entirely closed. Makes waking less of a panicky moment, I’ve always found.
Now, though, when I wake, there are still streamers of my dreams hanging in the dark, and I am liable to experience a short but painful moment of ‘where the hellami’? The answer comes soon enough but if there’s a bit of light in the room, it’s short and relatively sweet.
So, since we moved here, I’ve taken to leaving an ultra-low voltage light on by the side of the bed. It helps but does nothing for the aesthetics of the room.
“Surely you can come up with a less ugly way of tackling it than that,” Graham said a few weeks back.
“Well, I could go for a kid’s nightlight, I suppose. Something cute, perhaps?”
“That’s a great idea. Something vintage. Something retro-chic. What sort of thing?”
“Oh, a lighthouse, perhaps. Or a little house with lighted windows. Or something out of Disney.”
“Leave it with me.”
And so I did. Thought nothing more of it, to be honest.
Then, this morning, a large pre-loved postal box turned up and, on opening it I discovered a wonderful lamp from the early 50s (I think) in the form of Donald Duck. It’s a bit battered and worn, like me, and needs rewiring, and heaven knows I could do with that, too. But I do believe I’ve fallen in love with it already.
Hey ho. Something else to dust before the business of the day.
A friendly face in the dark
What a “quacker”…sorry
Oh, he IS cute. What a delightful light! Graham gets a Tufty badge for that one, I’m certain.
He is absolutely adorable! In our kitchen is a Steeler’s night light that will fit no where else, but our house is so small it sheds enough light.
In the bedroom is a plug in night light with a little dish filled with scent chips that brightens the room on occasion and leaves a nice fragrance as well.
Great lamp!
I’m lucky enough to have a street light near my window (doesn’t keep me awake), so I don’t need a light of my own. But I do keep a tiny flashlight within arm’s reach, in case of power failures.
Oh, lookit that. I’m just sitting here grinning.
He’s terrific! Tip of the hat to Graham for a great find.
OH I love it too….
So where does the light emit from? He is cute!
Love it! Want it!
He’s about as cute as they come, though, isn’t he? The original electrics had to be removed by the seller before the sale. Something to do with Health and Safety regulations. Graham’s tracking down a suitable replacement. I think the original installation had a bulb in Donald’s tummy, lighting the whole figurine with a gentle glow. I’ll be sure to take a photo when he’s fixed.
Oh goodness, if I saw that all lit up I’d panic for sure! But then I’ve always found the dark quite comforting. This is one of the reasons I love blogs and Twitter and everything so much. All the so-called ‘trivial’ things people share – finding out how surprisingly alike and surprisingly different we all are.
What Alison said, roughly.
Donald would give me nightmares, but as usual each to his own, John.
Darkness does it for me.
One of the things I love about going way out West to the Islands, is the complete and utter darkness at night. The stars! You don’t see them any more if you live within 20 miles of any significant settlement, and who doesn’t.
And if there’s a glimpse of the Northern Lights, well the magic is complete.
Just saying.
Made me smile. Like the Buzz Lightyear room guard watching over my extra keyboard, mouse and external drives. Wish I still had the Disney globe I got for Christmas when I was nine.