The steeple of St Peter's Church in Bayham Road looks as though it grows out of the park called Calverley Ground . In fact several roads lined with houses intervene between it and the borders of the park. The church was designed by local architects H and H and E Cronk and built in the 1870s. For a long time I wondered as I walked through the park to which church the steeple belonged. Now that I know it gives me pleasure to share the knowledge, though doubtless it will of interest to very few other people.Outside a lighting emporium in Camden Road is a notice reproducing the front page account in local paper about the proprietor's battle in favour of the old fashioned energy consuming light bulbs, now about to be outlawed. "I will go to prison rather than stop selling them," he says. "Most people care more about their eyesight than the environment," he says. As far as I am concerned a reaction in favour of anything against political correctness kicks in. "Good luck to you", I say as I buy my innocent table lamp bulb. I don't know if we have any of the old brighter argon filled bulbs left at home; and I am not sure, selfish old me, that if I did, our planet would begin to melt on account of them.
Sitting on the terrace behind Sankey's I look up at a number of windows above the restaurant with clumsily drawn curtains and sagging blinds. Perhaps staff live there. There is something mysterious and rather sleazy about the prospect. The thought of unmade beds and abandoned beer cans, half eaten sandwiches and empty ashtrays. A world away and yet ... O so near.
2 comments:
But presumably the bulbs are no longer made and then when stocks run out that will be that, and the shopkeeper's wished-for martyrdom will not be possible? He will need to find another ennobling cause: lead-based paints, perhaps, or polystyrene take-away containers or deodorants full of CFCs? Seriously though, those lead-foil capsules on wine bottles really were much nicer to handle weren't they?
I don't mind the new light bulbs really; in the mornings especially I quite like it that they come on gently and are a bit less glaring, and they're much better than they were and will doubtless get better still. We do have one old one left in the laundry room though, and I find I have a brief moment of remembering about it with pleasure then looking forward to it coming on so quick and bright. I wonder how much longer it'll last?
I like the steeple, it reminds me of a sea-mark we used to see on some cliffs somewhere.
I'd have kept the thought to myself but my reaction would have been: In life there are a limited number of causes one can embrace with passion - and this isn't one of them.
Besides which his conservatism could have reached back even further. On telly recently, in one of these period plays, I noticed someone scratching away with a quill pen close to a candle. Can you imagine having a moment's peace in a house lit with naked flames? As well as going blind in the process.
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