Over the nonsensical advice given on incandescent light bulbs. Allow me to expand and blather about a ‘happening’ that took place just before Christmas, as I meandered around York killing time. As the cold air started biting into my bones I sought respite, and found a small trendy cafe up a side street that offered refuge. What caught my eye was a hand coloured sign inviting one and all to “come and read your book in comfort, whilst enjoying a selection of our blah-blah-bah menu”; my kind of cafe, thought I… The bright wintry day was turning to dusk as I entered the warm cosy atmosphere of the cafe, and almost tripped on a badly lit step as I approached the counter to place my order.
Having picked up a complimentary news paper I chose a comfortable seat, and settled down taking the load off my feet whilst soaking up the ambience on offer. The informal background sound was a local talk radio station, not loud, not light, just sufficient to listen to the dulcet tones on offer. The place was fitted out in a traditional style of dark leather and wood, it was warm, very clean, and it had that heady fragrance of ground coffee permeating the air. However, there was a problem; a problem that I just couldn’t put my finger on, until I picked up the paper and struggled to read the words that were obviously there in back print against a white background? Even when I tilted the paper sideways hoping to catch the rays from a light bulb only a few feet away, the printed format remained faint and lacklustre, and refused to leap forth from the page. Perhaps it was the biting cold air that had affected my vision, which I know is still 20/20? Having shuffled the heavy leather chair closer to a larger bulb, the result was still the same, I had to squint through blurred eyelashes to lift and focus upon the print; the act itself brought back a haze of memories of times past…
Quick dit… Throughout my past career I have received, written, and issued NATO sequenced patrol orders in the most arduous of conditions. Whether it be through the good fortune of reading by the means of an incandescent lightbulb, a subdued arctic candle, or the shade of a right-angled filtered torch. On one occasion whilst on a local area exercise, a young ‘occifer’ (who I was steering through his first weeks within a commando unit) had involuntary ‘volunteered’ to take a set of orders at Unit level. I occasionally glanced at him as he scribed every word down in his orders book, as beads of sweat formed on his furrowed brow. Being an old hand I cherry picked the relevant points, and rewrote the orders for dissemination in situ. My young Boss scurried away and commenced to rewrite his own version, which, when finished, easily matched Tolstoy’s War & Peace. Just as dusk approached he asked that I gather the company SNCO’s to receive their briefing that was to take part in a dense wooded copse, where light discipline was an enforced order. In the dying light prior to the briefing I asked to see his orders book. Below: Not ‘the’ O group mentioned in the ‘dit’ though one similar…
“Erm Boss! You have used a red pen to write out your orders; not only that but they are far too detailed and comprehensive for the task in hand!” He looked at me aghast, mainly because I had just pee’d on his bonfire, which had taken him over two hours to build. “Have you eaten, or had a hot drink yet?” His look and my experience told me he had not. Upon which a young Marine handed him a blistering hot tin mug full of pot-mess, a bit of every thing from an arctic ration pack main meal. As he choked on the pot-mess I asked him to read out the GROUND sequence from his little book, which he attempted to do with his red filtered right-angled torch. His eyes opened cartoon size as he tilted the page side to side “Oh my fudging god, I can’t read anything at all”! I managed to stop him hovering at 10,000 feet, and brought him back down to earth by giving him my set of orders, from which he delivered an impeccable delivery at the briefing, as only an eloquent Oxford educated ‘occifer’ is able!
There were only a few customers dotted around the cafe, and it was obvious from my aggrieved dilemma that the fast approaching waitress (who was actually the owner) was either going to throw me out, or sort out the problem on my behalf. “Can I help you with anything” she said politely (this is York, and every one is ever so polite, and she did actually wish to help). I replied “Ermm, yes, would you have a spare Petzl headlamp that I could perhaps borrow”? She half smiled as my request started to sink in, her eyes twinkled the response as she said “The lighting isn’t very good is it”! I didn’t have to reply as she knew the answer… At my invitation ‘Patricia’ sat and explained that the new internal conversion meant that they had to go along with the building regulations that enforced the use of Compact Fluorescent Light-bulbs (CFL’s). ‘Trish’ (because we were now on first name speaking terms) went on to explain that they were going to strategically replace the CFL’s with old school incandescent 100 watt bulbs ‘made in china’, as they were the only source of bulbs available on the market. In spite of the Victorian era lighting within the cafe, it was never the less an enjoyable experience due to the ambience and good fare on offer. As my eyes had grown accustomed to the gloom, I saw the tricky step as I decamped, making my departure more dignified.
My anger, and down right rage against the enforcement of CFL’s upon the folk of Great Britain (and Europe), is against the machine ‘aka’ the grossly incompetent bureaucratic ‘European Union’, from where the faceless unelected puppets who dwell within, sit and meddle in affairs they know little of, but accept the argument given them by huge corporations, whose unproven science influences and sways them from the truth and common sense that should prevail. It is no coincidence that one such organisation that employs over 120,000 people in 60 different countries, has a huge say through its countries mouth pieces ‘aka’ Members of the European Parliament, which is one reason why I personally will never buy a PHILLIPS electrical product, ever! The real truth behind the EU con over energy-saving bulbs Earlier this morning through my usual daily perusing’s, I logged onto HMS Defiant where Curtis (ex U.S.N.) wrote a cracking article SHOCK TROOPERS OF THE UNTRUTH that offers his own feelings on the con that is being presented to us all over the use of CFL’s.
Fortunately, some while ago I was able to pick up sufficient 60/100/150 watt-General Electric-incandescent light bulbs, that will last my life time. With those left being disposed of through my ‘Last Will & Testament’ to family and friends. In my case, the light is on, and someone is definitely at home! Yours Aye.