Hana Blackmore: Flash houses destroy the joys of darkness

COMMENT

At first I blamed the cats. Out there, night after night, prowling the gardens and footpaths.

But whilst I cursed them, I realised all too soon that they, too, were innocent victims in this nightly urban battlefield. The charge of the light brigade.

Not that long ago our house was nestled in a small valley, tree-clad slopes wrapping around on three sides. Decks and roof-ridges of other homes peeked out here and there above us. Down our right-of-way, even the nightly glow of the street lights failed to penetrate.

Then came the developers. Slopes sub-divided, bulldozed and contoured. Trees felled, cut and chipped.

Concrete and panel monoliths rising in their place. And with them - light. Day and night. As evening falls, the first of the lights come on. Modern owners on the hill above see no need for curtains or blinds. No warm glow of a standard lamp illuminates here, but ceilings full of cold bulbs - dozens of them. Our house cowers below, flattened by the light.

But hey, let's not be too negative. If it's warm we can save on electricity and read the newspaper out in the garden.

Houses and decks once hidden in the bush are spotlighted all night for us to admire. Nice walls. The loss of trees does seem to be regretted by some, so their kind owners illuminate the last standing specimens.

But the real terror awaits - Bedtime.

As darkness finally falls across the close, you hear the plat of the cat-flaps, the rattle up the fence and the click of claws across the roof.

Then shhplat! The moggie is caught in the act - transfixed by the security lights from next door. She makes a dash for cover, activating other security systems on her way.

Ten minutes later the lights have finally clicked off. Just in time for her to continue her nightly patrol.

Lying sleepless and dark-less in bed, I worry that one night a lost jumbo jet will mistake these oversized halogens lights for a runway and land on my roof. I worry that the flashing red light on next door's alarm will penetrate my brain as well as my curtains.

And I wonder if my lovely neighbours have ever known the joy of the dark - of a night illuminated only by the stars and moon.

* Hana Blackmore is a Herald reader of Kohimarama.


* Do you want to get something off your chest? Send us a 400-word comment, including your name and phone number. Pieces written with humour and insight are preferred.
* Email the Herald News Desk