I say "without fail." In fact, we celebrate Earth Hour, almost inevitably, with some kind of failure. This year being no different to any other.
And so we sat there in the Moot House, in the darkness. Letting the stillness of Husborne Crawley find its way to us, above the roar of the gas-burners we needed to keep warm with the roof open.
The theory was that we all sat there, letting the darkness and stillness seep into our souls - feeling ourselves at one with the Earth that we neglect and loot every other hour of the year, with our electric lights, television sets and computing devices. That we could look up through the open roof and see the wonders of creation, wheeling above us.
So needless to say, next thing we know there's Beaker Folk running in all directions - never a good idea when you're in a confined space in the dark, and the only lights available are the glow of 50 smartphones. It was all very confusing, and bruising. I managed to keep myself from being hurt using a secret and ancient art - also known as cover drives and swipes to cow-shot corner (let the Reader understand).
|Not a badger|