Way back when, we bought some new ceiling lights. To go with the new fitted cupboards. To go with the new fitted dishwashwer. To go in the new fitted kitchen. Fitted up, we were, fittingly enough.

Over time there's wear and tear and knocks and scuffs and the dishwasher fails to dissolve the Powerball and the cupboards don't always shut and the fancy halogen lights take turns to conk out. Two pairs, four 50W GU10s in all, until the one directed at the kettle pops and won't even work with a fresh bulb. So now there's three wheels on our wagon but heck, you acclimatise to the lower light conditions like a Morlock from AD 802,701.

Until last week when one of the good remaining twosome decides that it can't ... take ... it ... any ... more -- you go on without me, leave me here --- and goes pop. Now down to 50% luminosity and resorting to opening the fridge for light.

Tonight the super trouper lights are gonna find me
Shining like the sun
— Abba, Super Trouper

Like that midday film with Gary Cooper, there comes a time when a man has to act, ideally when his wife's away for the weekend and can't point out the obvious dangers of dealing with live electricity. Middler had to be dragged to the big orange behemoth, but The Boy said "I Love B&Q!" and raced to put on his trainers. And we returned from the hunt with Middler-approved "3 light bar mirrored spotlight", times two. There now follow edited highlights:

• successfully turned off mains power with natural light fading fast
• off with old bad light, wiring new good light when Eldest nosebleed started
• tested and working then dropped and lost tiny retaining screw
• disconnected second fixture only to find not three but four wires
• fiddled and finally secured new light, torch in mouth, so why dining room lights no longer working?

Dunno what was more of a miracle: that the new spotlights worked or that Eldest's nosebleed stopped.