Beating the "Black-out"

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXVII, Issue 23618, 30 March 1940, Page 6 (Supplement)

Beating the "Black-out"

By C. COMBER

rpHE most striking war-time feature -*• 0 f the greatest city in tlie world is not the sandbags, nor the balloon barrage, nor vet the air raid sirens. It, is the "black-out." In theso cheerless winter afternoons the darkness, occasionally intensified bv a thick, clammy log, spreads itself earlv over streets and shops: and by Act of Parliament a few minutes after Big Ben has chimed the hour of four, all lights must be extinguished or rendered invisible from constables and Air Raid Wardens, who prowl about in the gloom watching for a tell-tale chink or glimmer. So when the last thin streaks of twilight have faded from the s.kv, the blackness of a. Polar gloom descends over what was, until the first days of September, a city blazing with light and colour. The shops put up their shutters, manv of the taxi-, go off tlie ranks, householders scuttle to shelter behind closed doors and blinded windows like the troglodytes of old. Through streets blacker than the approach to the Nether World, dim. ghostlv glow-worms creep up to cryptic symbols of rod and green at tlie crossroads —pathetic survivals of the oncebrilliant automatic traffic lights—take their bearings and crawl 011, as in a game of blind-man's buff, weaving in and out among faint shadows carrying hooded torches or wearing luminous buttons or arm-bands. In the buses ft faint blue glow that, is almost more dismal than complete darkness throws a ghastly pallor over the faces of the passengers. Footpaths are edged witli white paint, as are the sandbags piled up over windows, doorways and gratings. Trees present a weird, hornet-like appearance, ringed round with hands of white. Fven in spite of these precautious, sometimes pedestrians walk into the Thames, trip over sandbags and kerbstones, and fail to see the approach of dimlv-lit ears ami bicycles. Vehicles collide with one another, with telegraph poles, walls and bridges, and occasionally follow the pedestrian example and -take a cold plunge into the river. Home Life Comes Into Its Own Social life and private entertainment have fallen off. After all, half one's friends have moved out of town, and rigorous petrol rationing allows of little more than a week-end ( visit to the children evacuated to the country districts. Besides, no one enjoys a frosty walk home across Hampstead Heath in the "black-out." On tlie other band, home life has oome into its own. Young people who were wont to scoff at the stodginess of the Victorian evening now find them-

selves one of a family group gathered round the fire listening to the radio, reading, sewing, knitting comforts for the soldiers, sticking stamps in albums, playing cards, or just dozing placidly. Now, indeed, we realise what London was like in the days when highwaymen lay in wait under cover of darkness for an 3' who might be foolhardy enough to be abroad. But Londoners are beating the "black-out" in a striking variety of ways. Now that shop and restaurant managers have completed their window and door-screening devices, so that, - however brilliantly their lights may shine within doors, no smallest beam escapes into the gloom, night-life is showing a strong tendency toward resurrection. West End cinemas, theatres, night-clubs and restaurants are crowded night after night, a large proportion of the audience being men and women in uniform. They are patronised particularly well on moonlit evenings, when not oven the combined

The Victorian Family In London

efforts of Air Raid Wardens and the Metropolitan Police can effect the abvssmal darkness so dear to their hearts. Evening dress is rare, especially as garb other than uniform is forbidden to men and women in the Services. It is not at all surprising to see girls of the A.F.S. or girl ambulance drivers eoniH into a theatre in uniform trousers, with tin hats slung over their backs for a few hours' entertainment before reporting for night duty. Shopping during the hours ol blackness is an interesting, not to eav thrilling adventure. Along crowded pavements, past doors bearing a faintly glowing blue sign, reading Open," you pick your way, occasionally asking a passer by if you have missed the store you seek, and being asked for similar help by unbodied voices from out the darkness. A ratlier ambitious scheme lias now been evolved hv which shops 011 the north side of Oxford Street, from Marble Arch to Tottenham Court Road, would he protected by a covered, arcade "for the duration," so that shopping could proceed in a normal way during the "black-out." If the scheme is adopted, a roof would be run out from the face of the buildings extending over the pavement, and from it heavy canvas screens or blinds could he let down at night and drawn up during the day, so that we might be able to indulge in a little "windowshopping" again A few trains already have experimental reading-lights. As you enter a compartment, an official hands you a pamphlet entitled "Light—and the Public —on Trial." The pamphlet tells you plainly that you must co-operate with the authorities, otherwise hack you go into darkness. A dual lighting system has been installed, by which a dim blue light burns permanently, while a white light of sufficient power to read by is switched on after the train lias left a station, and ofl again when another station is approached. The chief fear is that passengers will raise the blinds to find out the name of a station and leave the train without pulling them down ajain. AII things considered, Londoners are of ultimately getting a little more light to brighten their way.