Purveyor of Bollocks to the Crowned Heads of Europe
Sunday, 22 November 2015
I demand 11 more nights
Just another Saturday night at The Bell Inn, Bath. I got bored and was home by 6.30.
The final cannon-blast at the end of the two-minute silence marked the beginning of Christmas, and the festive (LED) lights outside our compact but adorable city apartment have been on ever since, flooding my bijou little bedroom with a very good imitation of cold dawn - for the whole night.
Before I tore myself away from The Bell last night, I was talking to an ex-local who now lives on Dartmoor. Halfway through the conversation, he apologised for donning a pair of very dark sunglasses. It was night time, and we were bathed in the soft, warm glow of the pub's (LED) lights.
He explained that his eyes cannot handle the frequency of Light Emitting Diodes - of the sort which I fitted not only all over the pub, but recently all over our compact but adorable city apartment. I asked him why not.
He said that there had recently been some sort of research which claimed that exposure to LED light damaged people's retinas, and he was particularly sensitive to this newly discovered phenomena.
Damn. I have been waiting for bloody years until they had just about sorted out a form of LED light which is fit for domestic use, and now someone has come up with this scary theory. I am going to have to do some research on it now. Have you heard of this?
Anyway, back to Christmas in November. I am thinking of starting a campaign to reinstate 12th Night.
There are already dozens of half-hearted campaigns which vainly attempt to halt of the steady retrogression of acceptable dates to begin celebrating Yule Tide, and these are mainly aimed at the obvious commercial interests of all those high street shops which would like to see the season begin at the very end of Summer.
The 12th Night - and the run-up to it - after Christmas Day was considered more important to the Elizabethans than the day itself, and this had the added benefit of finding something to celebrate in the cold, short, Winter days when the balloon has been deflated and all we have to look forward to is distant Spring. I don't think we have ever quite recovered from Oliver Cromwell's 8-year blanket-ban on Christmas, and Jeremy Corbyn is starting to look as though he might bring the ban back into force.
Boxing Day here is marked by the Winter Sales, when some desperate people actually sleep out on the streets on Christmas night, just so they can get £50 knocked-off a washing machine, or whatever.
Could not the two be linked in some way by reinstating 12th Night as the highlight of the Winter festivals?