Friday, April 24, 2009

HELL'S BELLS

After waiting weeks for nephew to come and put new light globes in the ceiling, I decided to do it myself. Smoke alarm is still sitting on the floor, I'm not that good.

Choosing a light bulb is like choosing a toothbrush or toothpaste, too much choice.

So I remembered to change the old wattage into the new wattage, remembered the screw in type but who thought about bloody colour.

I am now sitting in the middle of Stalag Luft 17.

Never buy a 100w clear daylight bulb.

The lamps are going back on.

16 comments:

Brian Hughes said...

"Choosing a light bulb is like choosing a toothbrush or toothpaste..."

Presumably a bit harsher on the old gob, surely?

Jayne said...

Those 100 watt daylight bulbs are a cow for showing where the vacuum cleaner missed...lol.

Caroline said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Caroline said...

You be talking about those new-fangled fluro things (full of mercury)? I have a packet of six that I am obliged to insert in places where the light normally don't shine, I figured it out, six sockets that I rarely use. Alas, alack, I have no ladder so they remain in box in which they arrived.

I spent an evening with me mother a few weeks back; she had put them in all her lamps, which is a good idea because she runs them all day and all night. However a most hideous luxe of cool, white, light do they cast. I resisted the temptation to say anything that she would inevitably construe as a personal attack. If she hasn't noticed/ doesn't mind, what business is it of mine to point out the stark truth? I was very restrained. I also resisted the urge to make any comment when 'Sunrise' got turned on, up loud, at 7 fucking am.

Morning television, long life bulbs that cast a horrible light, I want no part in any of it. It was an enormous relief to get back to the candlelight and silence of the hermitage.

JahTeh said...

Not really Fleety, considering that's where I have to hold the globe when I'm using two hands to hold on to the ladder.

Jayne, I caught one look at the old kisser in the mirror and near died of shock never mind the carpet.

Caroline, does this mean you're not visiting for Mothers Day?
Even my mother won't have a bar of morning television but then she rings me up to find out what day it is and what the weather is like.

River said...

I love 100 watt globes. Finally, I can see what I'm eating and reading. I always seem to end up in homes with little natural light, so bright lights are essential. my current home has a ginormous north facing window in the lounge, but in the summer we keep the blind down and curtains closed, otherwise the heat is unbearable. In the winter the light is great right beside the window, but back into the room where the dining part is just isn't bright enough for me. So I have a 100 watt globe above the table where I sit most of the day with my books and computer.

Caroline said...

I've worked out I think, that Mother's Day is not actually tomorrow. Is it? So that means it must be next Sunday? Is it? For some reason it pretty well escapes me every year. (I do usually ring or something, but often after the event). One (or is that two) of the good things about mothers is that not only are they generally very long suffering, they will generally forgive just about anything. Not that I take advantage of that . . . hell I'm long suffering too. 45 years of it.

Davo said...

Ah, amazing the multitude of uses for ye olde candlesticks.

River said...

Mothers Day is the second Sunday in May, Caroline.

JahTeh said...

River, thank you for the timely reminder, I'll kill you later.
I also love 100w globes but only in 'soft daylight', 'clear daylight' is a real shocker especially in a ceiling downlight.

Caroline, I'm hoping no-one reminds her because I can't even bring myself to buy a card unless I find one that says something really suiting my mood, like 'enjoy this card, it's your last'. Yes, it's been that kind of weekend.

Davo, I love candlelight and little oil lamps but computers and tv don't run on them.

Mindy said...

I'm not sure if it's an urban myth, but I had heard that your local firepeople would install smoke detectors for you. Might be worth looking up the number for the local brigade and seeing if they will send someone out to put up the smoke detector for you. Just make sure you request the cute blokes.

JahTeh said...

Thanks Mindy, but with an electrician in the family I should have had it fixed three weeks ago but isn't that always the way.

And I take it back about the light. It was as black as the inside of a Lancastrian jockstrap this morning but now it's not. As long as I don't look in the mirror, I'll be right.

R.H. said...

I've just had an email asking what I'm doing. Well darlings I've been banging away on my $200 piano, purchased last week from St Vinnies: corner of Woods Street and Plenty Road. That's Preston. Meanwhile just down Woods Street is the Northern Community Care Unit where social science ladies of fat arse and feminist assertion check RSVP all day hoping for a cheap night out. What dopes. Well their foyer is luxurious, beautiful new couches to sit on. And there's a covered courtyard; plants and trickling waterfall.
Outside there's a dozen new Toyotas, all identical, to cruise around in when RSVP gets boring, and maybe do a bit of shopping too, why not, or drop in on some poor client nutcase to report dirty dishes on his sink. "So what have you been doing?" they'll shriek, full of fake jollity, friendliness. Meanwhile my biographical subject is obliged hail or shine to make the trek to their important little citadel in Woods Street every Thursday where acres of plants die from no watering whilst they inside waste megalitres showering twice a day.
In he goes, sits down, "So what have you been doing," they shriek.

"Tell them: PLAYING WITH MY COCK!" I say to him. And he won't of course, too frightened, but it gives him a laugh all the same. Sometimes he wakes up,
"I'm their bread and butter," he squeaks, then has a strange giggle, like some parson who's just realised he's married a prostitute.
"You're their carrot cake," I tell him, "Their bruschetta and focaccia, or why else would they waste one minute on you. Ha, and yet you've said they're lovely. And will again. So go visit where they live. See if you get in the door, okay? They'll shriek alright -for the cops!"
Well kidding people along has good intention I guess, as it did for my poor mother, diagnosed as a High Grade Mental Defective.
But I'd tell her now, show her the papers: Mum, it says here you're retarded. And that's it. That's all. Bullshit is no help, no advance, lies are not sympathy.

Tell the truth.

Let it shine.

-Robert.
On topic.

R.H. said...

WV: autin.

Praise The Lord.

JahTeh said...

Rh, I often wonder why they go in for this social carer lark. It's a bit like nursing now, once they graduate they don't want to work with real live people, they want to sit on their backsides and run nursing homes.

Middle Child said...

Once it was so simple,,so little choice and so much better a light is a light is a light.