The Lighthouse

the lighthouse

01 December 2015

The Cruelty of The Dark

We are inching ever nearer to the time when the days will begin to lengthen. I look forward to it with even the very smallest fibre of my being.

Meanwhile, it was so dark when I left the house this morning, it was like the sun hadn't been invented yet. I checked the clock again and again, expecting it would tell me I had woken an hour too soon, and could therefore go back to bed before facing the day and the attitudinal teenagers it would bring my way.

I was wrong; the clock was right. It was merely dark with an absence of light, not a disregard of timekeeping. Even now, with the blinds in the library widows all the way up, the faint light outside seems to be coming from the clouds rather than a sun.  (How fortunate I am to have windows in the library, and these are a full two stories high and a classroom wide.) (I've worked in school and public libraries without a single beam of natural light, so this is a blessing indeed.)

On days like this, there should be free coffee on offer for all to help us through the day, much like during heatwaves there are cooling stations for those at risk of heat-prostration.  Is there such thing as dark-prostration?  I've been at work for three hours at this point, and am fighting to keep my eyelids from sliding closed. I could really use a jolt of caffeine to counter the cruelty of the dark.


  1. I can relate. Due to my lengthy commute, I leave for work in darkness and by the time I return home it is dark again. I do have a window in my office, but all I can see is a brick wall. I can, however, tell if the sun is out by how bright the bricks are.

  2. How sad! I'm very glad you have a window and a view, but very sorry the view is of bricks. At least they share some of the sun with you. (I'm practicing being positive)