We swelter in summer, sometimes in temperatures as high as twenty degrees.
In tandem with the equatorial temperatures, we have scandinavian daylight settings. It’s rarely dark. When our kids were young, this would be a nightmare as they’d wake at 4am every day. Nowadays, it’s different. It’s joyous in particular waking up the elder.
“Time to wake up darling” we say, with a chortle.
“Let’s see how you like it” we think, as we draw the curtains.
And yet, and yet, despite this Mrs Gin insists on putting the lights on at every opportunity.
I walk in after work and instead of soft summer golden sun coming through muslin drapes, we are presented with a living room which looks like this:
Why? It’s horrific! A fly trapped in neon buzzes harsh, tension rises in the houses and glare blinds us. Mrs Gin’s innocent questions take on an edge
We go around switching them off but of course she rages and that, so on they go again.
Luckily I have an answer:
Sunglasses indoors. How cool?