One of the building/decorating team put her head round the door of the sitting room (where I was working today) and said ‘Oh, is that a lightbox?’
What she had meant to say was ‘Do you have a spare one of these green scratchy things because mine’s been knackered by all the grout the tiler’s left on the tiles?’ but we got diverted into talking about SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder – neat and non-forced acronym) and the relative merits of various lightboxes.
‘What’s a lightbox?’ I hear you cry. Well, unsurprisingly it’s a nice sleek-looking box with a light in it. Mine looks like the specimen on the left:
What she had meant to say was ‘Do you have a spare one of these green scratchy things because mine’s been knackered by all the grout the tiler’s left on the tiles?’ but we got diverted into talking about SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder – neat and non-forced acronym) and the relative merits of various lightboxes.
‘What’s a lightbox?’ I hear you cry. Well, unsurprisingly it’s a nice sleek-looking box with a light in it. Mine looks like the specimen on the left:
But this is not just *any* light – this is full spectrum light (no, telly-watchers, it’s NOT M&S light) ie like sunlight. In this case bright summer-type sunlight.
I don’t know enough about the psychology/physiology of the thing to give you a cogent explanation of why lightboxes work but I do know that, without mine, from about the beginning of October to the end of February, my need to sleep amounts to a hibernation urge, I want to eat industrial quantities of carbohydrates and avoid people lest I bite lumps out of them. If I have months without the light I develop the need for a corner in which to moan and weep. Seriously. It’s horrible.
But with my lightbox I’m almost as much fun to live with as in the summer…
Son No 2, the Bassist, has SAD too, so winter breakfast times see the two of us huddling at the kitchen table, our books pushed up next to the light, trying to find room on the table for our tea (me), toast (The Bassist) and Innocent Mango and Passionfruit smoothies (both of us).
I would show you a photo of this domestic scene, but no camera without fancy filters will cope with both our kitchen in the morning and immensely bright lightbox – you’d just be presented with a picture of something very over-exposed.
Be glad, this saves you from a photo of me approximately three hours before I’m anything less than frightening.
I don’t know enough about the psychology/physiology of the thing to give you a cogent explanation of why lightboxes work but I do know that, without mine, from about the beginning of October to the end of February, my need to sleep amounts to a hibernation urge, I want to eat industrial quantities of carbohydrates and avoid people lest I bite lumps out of them. If I have months without the light I develop the need for a corner in which to moan and weep. Seriously. It’s horrible.
But with my lightbox I’m almost as much fun to live with as in the summer…
Son No 2, the Bassist, has SAD too, so winter breakfast times see the two of us huddling at the kitchen table, our books pushed up next to the light, trying to find room on the table for our tea (me), toast (The Bassist) and Innocent Mango and Passionfruit smoothies (both of us).
I would show you a photo of this domestic scene, but no camera without fancy filters will cope with both our kitchen in the morning and immensely bright lightbox – you’d just be presented with a picture of something very over-exposed.
Be glad, this saves you from a photo of me approximately three hours before I’m anything less than frightening.
I leave you today with a weird SAD fact. The next best way to take in full spectrum light after looking at it (kind of the way most people would initially go for, I suspect) is via the backs of your knees... something to do with the time when we wandered around on all fours, apparently.
It's as I always suspected, I am a primitive throwback...
1 comment:
I think I need one of those lightboxes! Very interesting post. keep blogging.
PS I visited your website...very impressive.
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