“How many Underground contractors does it take to change a lightbulb?” Normally two… but apparently they travel here by carrier pigeon.

 The office light gave up halfway through the shift. Not even a dramatic flicker. Just a quiet little I’ve had enough of this place and then darkness. Proper Victorian-murder-mystery lighting. The kind where everyone suddenly looks like they’re about to reveal a terrible secret over a game of Cluedo.

But railway people are nothing if not adaptable.

While waiting for the cavalry to arrive sometime before Christmas, I improvised a temporary lighting solution using the world’s brightest portable lamp. It transformed the mess room into what can only be described as an interrogation suite for exhausted staff making instant coffee.

There’s something deeply funny about working for one of the biggest transport networks on Earth while illuminating the kitchen like a campsite in the Peak District.

Still, priorities remained intact:

1. Restore visibility.
2. Protect kettle access.
3. Continue consuming caffeine like it’s contractual.

And honestly? The setup did have atmosphere. The beam bouncing off the wall made my coffee break feel less “staff room” and more “low-budget sci-fi bunker”. Somewhere above me, the dead fluorescent tube hung silently like a fallen comrade.

Until the contractors arrive, we endure. One torch-lit brew at a time.