Darkness and light

This afternoon, teachers everywhere (as well as other workers) have that sinking feeling. Back to work tomorrow. And it’s January. I’ve just checked on Google and the sunrise time in Edinburgh at the end of December was 8.44 am. Tomorrow, January 5, it’s crawled up to an impressive 8.42 am. So we go into work in the dark (though it’s not pitch dark; sort of twilight). We have 7 hours, 12 minutes and 42 seconds of daylight, evidently, and sunset is at 3.55 pm, so we come home in the dark too.

We live like moles in the winter, never seeing natural light. Well, those like Mr Life, who stops for lunch and goes out for a walk, get a blink of it but those of us who don’t have time to stop live in artificial light.

Still, by the end of January, sunrise is 8.09 am and sunset 4.44 pm, giving us a dizzying 8 hours, 34 minutes and 59 seconds of daylight.

And gradually things improve a lot. By June 21, sunrise is at 4.26 am, sunset at 10.03 pm and daylight lasts 17 hours, 36 minutes and 33 seconds. Though I don’t like the short days, I think it’s worth it in exchange for the long summer evenings; when even before dawn and after sunset there’s a long period of half-light. The birds start singing loudly about 2.30 am (not so popular) but one can go on gardening till 11 pm without difficulty.

On Friday I went out for lunch with long-standing friends in Haddington , a small town a few miles east of the city, which was very nice. We also walked in the sunshine through the grounds of St Mary’s Church (above)

and along

the river.

I took a photo of the bridge which leads to a street called (not too originally) Bridge Street. My lovely grandmother was born there on June 4 1895. Whenever I’m in Haddington, I keep wishing I'd remembered to find out the number of the house.

She didn’t live there for long because her mother died when she was five and the family went to Glasgow, where her aunt took over care of the children, allowing her father to work to support them. Above are Granny, her aunt and her brother. I’ve blogged about this before; sorry if you’ve already read this story. Her mother died of TB and Granny’s little sister also got the disease, dying at the age of 14 after a long period of ill-health. When Granny was 15, her father remarried and the stepmother wouldn’t have Granny or her older brother in the house. The brother, Alex, joined the army and Granny became a sewing maid in a big house in Edinburgh. Alex was gassed during the war and died in 1920. Granny married my grandfather and had a reasonably happy life, I think, but always talked about her beloved Alex and her happy home in Haddington before her mother died.

It all makes a little darkness, lit and warmed artificially, seem not too much of a hardship.

I still have the little silver chain-mail purse that Granny's holding in the photo. It's strange to think that so many of our possessions will outlive us. It's obvious. But I still think it's quite hard to imagine. I have some of Granny's rings too and I sometimes look at them and at my own engagement ring and think: they'll still be here when my fingers aren't.

Just trying to cheer you up on a cold January day...