In the darkest week of the year we light every candle in the house and leave the curtains open. It started as a way to fight the gloom. Now it is a tradition, and the neighbours expect it.

An open door

The rule is simple: if you can see the candles from the road, you can knock. People come with cake, with stories, with children who have never been allowed to stay up so late. Some years there are three visitors. Some years there are thirty.

The candles are mostly cheap white ones from the shop, a few beeswax ones from a friend, and one tall red candle that is only ever lit on that night and has been burning down for eleven years.

Bringing the light back

When the last guest leaves we blow them out one by one and sit in the dark for a moment. The next morning the sun rises a minute earlier than the day before. It is not much, but it is enough.