Postcards From Across the Pond

Some days are special, like New Year, your birthday, or the date of your second divorce. But days that relate to the position of the sun (or the earth in relation to the sun for you astronomers) are extra special, because certain things happen on or around them.

Take my bathroom door.

For half the year, the bathroom door swings closed of its own accord—I do what needs doing, open the door, step into the hall, and the door, ever so gently, eases itself into the closed position. The other half of the year, it just stays open. This means, when I am hoovering or washing the floor, I need to prop the door open, while other times, I do not.

Now, in case you’re thinking that I’m a bit too obsessed about my bathroom door, let me assure you I am not. I know this happens (it’s done this ever since we moved in nine years ago* so it never surprises me) and I simply accept it. This year, however, I noticed the date.

On Monday, while doing the housework, I had to prop the door open. Then, on Tuesday, when I left the bathroom, the door stayed open. And it is still staying open, as I know it will for the next six months or so. But what made that day special? The Summer Solstice.

I realize it’s not the actual solstice (that’s tomorrow) but it’s close enough. So, I am now going to pay closer attention to when this phenomenon begins and ends to see if I can pin it on the position of the sun or the length of days or sparrow migration.

I did not need to wonder about this with my Amstrad computer.

I had the computer from 1986 to 1992, and during its final three or four years something strange began to happen to it. At the beginning of summer (the solstice, I wonder) the bottom line on the screen began to bend. This bend would become worse as the weeks passed until, suddenly, as summer ended (the equinox, perhaps) the screen righted itself. Then, the next summer, it would happen again.

When I sold the Amstrad, I warned the new owner about it. I wonder if it behaved for him as it did for me.

If I can attribute these strange happenings to the solstice and the equinox, there must be others. Like the ability to stand an egg on its end during the equinox.

I first heard about this sometime in the 1980s, before the Internet and AI and the ability to obtain misinformation at the click of a mouse pointer. (What? No one uses a mouse anymore? Next, you’ll be telling me there’s no CD tray in the new laptops.)

Anyway, hearing this, I thought it was a grand idea to stay up until 2:37AM, when the equinox hit, to see if I could really stand an egg on its end. And it worked!

I have been telling people about this for the past forty-two years, never doubting it was true because I actually did it. But, as research for this post, I had a quick gander at the Internet and learned the science behind the fact that you can stand an egg on its end during the equinox, and that is: you can stand an egg on its end on any day of the year, but idiots like me only try it on the equinox, so it seems as if that is the only day you can do it.

And so, chagrined but satisfied at learning a new fact (some of us, when shown scientific proof, tend believe the science, but you do you), I can now amend the egg story with the full—and face it, more comical—truth.

But stay tuned for the outcome of my bathroom door research

* Another thing that “just was” when we moved in was the hall closet door. It was impossible to open unless, as you pulled it toward you, you also pushed down. I used to get quite a bit of amusement out of that when the occasional workman needed to access the hall closet and, though younger, bigger and stronger than me, they’d always pull and pull and pull to no avail. Then I—older, smaller, and weaker—would casually open the door for them. Sadly, after we painted the flat, the door began opening normally, so it’s no fun anymore.