romeo and juliet, candles, bed, dead, sleeping, lighting, lamps

When lighting strikes

Light may have become your enemy. But lighting is your friend. Your best friend. Light is ruthless, harsh, inveigling its way into wrinkles and furrows, illuminating redness and dryness and general lack of peach. Bollocks.

But in your own home, you can be your very own Director of Photography. Do you have overhead lighting? I do. I use it in the day to counteract that terrible afternoon gloom that I just can’t bear. The gloom that crushes me – that’s why I had the little spotlights put in. But once dusk has come and gone they are firmly and irrevocably switched off for the evening. Instead I shuffle from lamp to lamp, shifting them slightly on their tables, buggering about with the dimmer knobs, lighting candles and putting them in front of mirrors (get me!) and then, somehow, starting all over again. On a kind of constant lighting loop so that things are flattering but glowing. Cosy but faintly glamorous. Never gloomy, never bright. Oh, and if the telly goes on then I have to go round again because that CHANGES EVERYTHING.

I do it in the middle of conversations; leaping up like a maniac to creep around the room fiddling with things. Shifty. A kind of low-level criminal activity. Not a good look, although trying to craft a good look. Stupid to be attempting a relaxed and gently radiant atmosphere and then thoroughly unnerving everyone by edging towards the wall to twiddle. And everything is so damn glowy that I’m constantly stubbing my toe and losing things. But at least you can’t see my roots.

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