Keep the home-fires burning

Keep the home fires burning, While your hearts are yearning. Though your lads are far away They dream of home. There's a silver lining Through the dark clouds shining, Turn the dark cloud inside out 'Til the boys come home.

Songs from the 1914 conflagration pop into my consciousness on a regular basis. The justification can be scant. I had also thoughts of Wilfred Owen and his drawing-down of blinds in sad shires, as I looked at these images, and the story they are about to tell. I guess I border on the maudlin, the saccharine. However, I am not alone. I was reading in The Guardian the other day about a book of poetry ready to hit the book-stalls where men have been asked to nominate a poem that brought them to tears. The comments to the article, for me, have equal value to the content of the book. But, you are wondering, "the price of fish"?

In two weeks, we will turn back the clocks; not to 1914, or even to the medieval world of knights and dames. Reverting to standard times will plunge our evenings into earlier gloom, where our suburban street becomes less safe, and less secure. Where a light cast from our home gives fillip to the heart of the weary worker. But, alas and alack, we have no such light that can be seen from the curve at the beginning of our cul-de-sac. So, out intent is to create one. When we widened the driveway last year, Darren had ensured that conduit with electrical wiring was embeded within. We (HE) now has two tasks: first, connect the wires to the existing electricals of the house (I have it on good authority that he wishes to include a light-sensitive timer in this); second, create a stone pedestal with a light fitting atop.

So, here be nine light-fittings selected from google images, to get us started. I have suggested that perhaps the light should be grey rather than black, but this was not well-received. Hmmm ... I thought to match with the awnings, but obviously not. I think of the pedestal to the height of the final fence post with the light as high above that as to enable it to be seen from the afore mentioned curve, remembering the jungle next door (which just may need to be trimmed occasionally).