Fade to black

I spent most of the day horizontal, unusually for me, but went out at sunset to get the birds to bed and to put away a few garden tools that had been left out in the rain.

The sight of the greenhouse illuminated by the setting sun stopped me in my tracks. I recently had the broken panes replaced. Our local glazier, Gwydr Viv/Viv the Glass in typical Welsh style (literally Glass Viv) was once a frequent visitor when thrown or kicked missiles regularly shattered our windows. I was pleased to find he was still following his trade.

This isn't an ideal spot for a greenhouse as there are so many trees and bushes shading it. As a result the apple tree on the left has been cut back rather savagely. The bushes in front are blackcurrants, more productive in the leaf than the fruit department. When we first arrived here the greenhouse was actually invisible, buried in vegetation, and only discovered by an exploring son.

I'm reading a book about North Korea at the moment: Nothing To Envy by Barbara Demick. It's a real eye-opener. Although the journalist writer was not able to access the country itself she interviewed many people who had escaped to South Korea, and she focused in particular on exiles from the northern city of Chongjin, in order to build up a multi-layered picture of life in one place. Right at the start of the book is a satellite photograph of the whole of Korea by night. The southern half is a blaze of light indicating cities, towns, roads and coastal settlements. The north is an area of total darkness: 23 million people without light. She writes:

North Korea faded to black in the early 1990s. With the collapse of the Soviet Union, which had propped up its old Communist ally with cheap fuel oil, North Korea's creakily inefficient economy collapsed. Power stations rusted into ruin. The lights went out. Hungry people scaled utility poles to pilfer bits of copper wire to swap for food. When the sun drops low in the sky, the landscape fades to gray and the squat little houses are swallowed up by the night. Entire villages vanish into the dusk. Even in parts of the showcase capital of Pyongyang, you can stroll down the middle of a main street at night without being able to see the buildings on either side.

It's not all bad; she goes on to describe how teenagers and others with a need for secrecy can exploit the darkness to meet with lovers and have some existence apart from the constant surveillance that monitors their lives. But most people just go to bed. By contrast, the book is highly illuminating and an engrossing read. Recommended especially for anyone who enjoyed Finding George Orwell in Burma by Emma Larkin, which was recently flagged up by Arachne. It's the same sort of humane but penetrating journalism that allows one to understand something of the lives lived by ordinary people under extreme duress.