Good news for moths and mothers

One evening in August, I stood outside with my wife and watched the Perseid meteor shower, wishing on a handful of shooting stars before returning indoors to the sofa. Thanks to Ringmer's dark skies, we didn't need to journey beyond the end of our driveway to experience this nocturnal display. You see, we don't have much street lighting around here. There's some on the B2192 to ensure road safety but most of the village is unlit. This has been a local preference for many years; apparently the introduction of street lighting was debated back in 1895 when Ringmer parish council was first formed (chaired by ex-MP William Langham Christie, since you ask). And it isn't just a local quirk: government guidelines say planning decisions "should limit the impact of light pollution from artificial light on local amenity, intrinsically dark landscapes and nature conservation". That's especially pleasing if you're an astronomer or a moth.

A few weeks later I'm visiting mum in West Sussex, sitting at her dining table and talking about home improvements. Suddenly the conversation takes an unexpected turn, reminding me of strange events that only happen under cover of darkness. "Do you have tanks everywhere where you are?", she asks. Perhaps this question wouldn't have seemed so left-field if it had come from a Ukrainian pen-friend, but the context seems completely incongruous. Nope, no military activity whatsoever. We've not had a midnight coup. The county border remains free of razor wire. Maybe I've misheard. "Sorry... what?" I haven't misheard. "Tanks", replies mum. "Do you have tanks where you live?" Oh dear. Perhaps it's time for one of those quick-check medical conversations that involves asking my mother if she knows the date and remembers who the Prime Minister is.

Admittedly, there was a time when armoured vehicles were occasionally seen on the streets near mum's house. They were delivered at night to the local premises of a company called Hunting Hivolt, where high-tech communications equipment would be installed. It was the army equivalent of secretly dropping off your Ford Capri to have a cassette player fitted and a couple of loudspeakers embedded in the parcel shelf. However, the business hasn't been there for years. I rack my brains for an explanation of mum's question. There's an awkward silence. Mum looks exasperated. "Tanks for hot water and cold water. Do you have those in your house?" Phew. Mum's not lost the plot. She's preparing to have a new gas boiler installed; a fairly urgent requirement after the previous one had rusted from the inside out. Installing a new boiler will involve removing her hot water tank, hence the concern. Incidentally, mum had been alerted to the problem by her carbon monoxide detector - "why's this thing keep going off?" - which she'd dealt with by knocking the detector off the wall with a broom handle. A lucky escape, you might say. The scene could have been much darker.

First published in Viva Lewes magazine issue 109 October 2015