Let there be light

Do I save my eyes or save the planet?

Bits of light bulb in your tuna sandwich  Christopher Howse  Telegraph readers from all over the country complain that they are tumbling down the stairs because energy-saving light bulbs on the landing do not come on in time when they pop to the bathroom in the middle of the night. It is quite true that the new bulbs are as dim as the politicians who force them upon us. I found myself in the Midland Hotel earlier this year and, because the bulbs were of the new kind, no light in my room was bright enough to read by. I ended up taking the shade off the bedside lamp and, to catch its glow, balancing it on a rather vulgar metallic box of paper handkerchiefs provided by the thoughtful management. I still had to hold the book up towards the light as if I was trying to read by a full moon. As one of our readers mentioned in a letter to the Editor, you have to use more of the new bulbs in order to produce enough light, which rather defeats the object. Proper incandescent bulbs are shortly to be banned in a Europe-wide bureaucratic drive, purportedly on ecological grounds. Yet the dull new bulbs contain mercury, a deadly poison that builds up in the food chain once it reaches waters that flow into the sea. Soon our tuna sandwiches will be thick with mercury, blackening our teeth and turning us as mad as hatters. The mercury hazard means, to the health and safety police, that if one breaks a new dim bulb, it is necessary to open doors and windows and don protective clothing. You must not throw the new bulbs away in the dustbin when they fail, as they soon do, but take them to a hazardous waste tip. So the ideal Christmas present this year is a cache of good old lightbulbs. Mind where you store them or the rust will get at the metal end. One day they'll be as valuable as 1945 Margaux.