Seeing stars on a dark night

BY MATT LAWREY

This week About Town is brought to you by candlelight. It's 8.50pm on Monday and the lights have been off for 30 minutes.

We had been planning to watch Frost/Nixon on DVD but now we're sitting in the dark, drinking wine and eating chocolate. It's fascinating the stuff that goes through your head when the power goes off and doesn't come back on soon after.

You start to wonder how many cans of spaghetti you have in the cupboard.

You wonder if it will mean a day off work.

You wonder just how long the power will stay off.

You wonder which of your neighbours would be the first to start drinking their own urine.

You also get frustrated about not being able to make a cup of tea.

It's very quiet and the only lights we can see are coming from the hospital, the clock tower and cars that appear to be prowling the city.

People react to power cuts in interesting ways.

Some cheeky bugger has let off a red rescue flare and someone else has started whistling as loudly as he can.

Across the valley someone else is practising their fire poi skills.

In town people will have found themselves literally in the dark in the middle of movies, arts festival shows and restaurant meals.

Fortunately, on account of Nelson being so short, it's unlikely anyone is stuck in a lift.

A trip to the backyard reveals no sign of the moon but plenty of stars, which makes me think Rudy Zondag and the rest of Nelson's astronomy crowd must love power cuts at night.

In a testament to how hardwired into my brain the use of electricity has become, I keep expecting things to work even though I know the power is off. Not once but twice I try turning the loo light on and then I'm surprised to discover the light in the fridge isn't working. Then it hits me that the freezer must be defrosting, which leads to an alarming thought: "Why didn't we bury that placenta when we had the chance?"

Distracted by the novelty of writing and reading by candlelight, we miss Radio New Zealand National's 10pm news. It's annoying but it's also comforting to know the power is still on in Wellington. It makes you think, though, how different things would be if all you could get was static.

Last year's TV drama Aftershock, about a massive earthquake in Wellington, painted a grim image of what it could be like.

The programme jolted my mother and a friend who live there into action.

Mum decided to keep warm clothes in the car in case she is out when the big one hits and my mate bought a shotgun. A licensed gun owner, he and his family live in one of the prestigious bays on the road to Eastbourne.

On the basis of Aftershock he came to the alarming conclusion that if society descends into chaos, and the bays are cut off from the Hutt Valley, then it won't take long before the cash-strapped residents of nearby Wainuiomata take up hiking.

In other words, he thinks it might only be a matter of days before the good people of Wainui realise there is little point in ripping each other off when there are rich people over the hill just begging to be ripped off.

"It's no different to buying candles and batteries for the radio. I'm simply providing for my family's safety," he managed to somehow tell me with a straight face.

You have to wonder how long it would take for society to turn savage in Nelson if disaster struck. I like to think we'd fare better than Wellington.

For one thing, the abyss between the haves and have-nots isn't as obvious here and Nelson's well-heeled and hardly heeled practically live cheek to cheek. It's a surprisingly short stroll from Abraham Heights to Princes Dr, and while some Princes Dr residents might disagree, I think for reasons of social cohesion, that's a good thing.

Still, it's not something we have to worry about tonight – the fridge has just come back on and, man, does it seem loud.

- © Fairfax NZ News