6.55 Thursday night. We have lit three candles and turned all the lights out to join in the Europe-wide five-minute protest about lack of governmental action on climate change, and are looking out the window across Malling valley to the castle to see how many people are doing the same. In the valley the town is full of lights. Car headlights, streetlights, house lights. I think I see a bedroom light go off out of the corner of my eye, but that’s about it. Maybe they would have turned it off anyway. The Fujitsu building seems to have every light on, even though it’s completely empty. The idea of the mass turn-off originated in France; it doesn’t seem to have made its way very successfully across the channel.
The whole process brings to mind a time five years ago when I was living in Barcelona, when everybody who was against the Gulf War was asked to bang pots and pans together from their balconies at 9pm the day war was declared. The day came, and the result was amazing, About half our street came out. What camaraderie! What spirit! What a bloody racket! At nine o’clock the next day, everyone spontaneously decided to do the same thing again. And again, and again, and again, night after night. They called it the ‘cazerolazo’ (the casserole protest). This went on for about a fortnight. You could set your watch by it. You’d be walking around town, and suddenly everybody would appear. Bang, bang, crash, all around the city. Then it started dwindling off. We were the last people on our street to stop bashing our pans.
It’s not so much fun looking at lights not going out. I wait a little time, to see if a significant number go back on at seven, but it doesn’t happen. Later, when I go upstairs to bed, I realise that the bedroom light has been on all the time. Must try harder. Enjoy the week…