LET THERE BE LIGHT

He’s done it again. We hoped he might exercise a modicum of restraint this time but when I spied him precariously balanced on his roof, I said to my wife, ‘looks like he’s checking the Christmas lights.’

Our neighbour has once more demonstrated to the whole street, nay to the whole of our town, that Ex- pat. Canadians really know how to illuminate. Now do not misunderstand me, I am all for the traditional seasonal celebrations, however when it is reported that our neighbours massive array of coloured lights, wreaths, flashing Santa and nodding reindeers is numbered, along with China’s great wall as one of the only two earthly landmarks visible from outer space, one has to wonder at the sense of it.

Now you are thinking that I am a mean old scrooge, and what’s wrong with festooning ones abode from gutter to garden and all points in between with New Zealand’s answer to Las Vegas; the city that never sleeps. And you would be right except for the fact that as soon as the lights are turned on we become the neighbours who never sleep. You see this Canadian chap, arrived in New Zealand with all his Christmas illuminations fully prepared to brighten the Southern hemisphere. Unfortunately, he had been kept in the dark regarding the fact that Canadian power outage is not compatible with ours. There is no way he would be able to plug his 110volts into our 240v system. This was a shocking revelation to the gentleman but he re-fused to pull the plug on turning his home into a cross between the milky-way and the Christmas Coca cola advertisement.

‘A converter’ I hear you say, a gadget that will simply allow the Canadian system to up-grade into New Zealand system. Brilliant. ‘Watt? Says my neighbour, ‘I have a far better plan, one that will cost me next to nothing, will not drain the national grid and will allow me to run my lights from 9pm to 11pm every evening for the twelve days of Christmas.

His plan, unlike his lights, is not very bright. He has installed a generator, a noisy, drumming motor that thumps out its monotonous droning from his corrugated iron roofed garage, situated a mere seven paces from my deck. Gone are those special evenings of peaceful fellowship and quiet reflection that my wife and I so much enjoy. The reflection is certainly there from 9 to 11 but peaceful... no way.

To be fair, he’s not a bad neighbour and it is a time of good will and peace amongst men. So we have come up with a plan that will not only allow us to celebrate with a Christian attitude but will counteract the constant hum from his dreadful machine. We will put our speakers on our deck, and wind Susan Boyle up to the utmost decibels; that ought to do the trick...power to the people !