THEY are a wiry silhouette, dull against the clutter of fuzzy hats, imperious shop signs and misty breaths of a cold autumn evening. But it takes only a moment and the angels above Regent Street come alive in a burst of gold and white, their wings and tails twinkling in festive triumph against the darkening sky. It’s the Christmas lights switch-on and the festive season has officially begun, ushering in a cascade of partying, cooking and frenzied shopping.
To paraphrase Louisa May Alcott, Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas without any light displays. It’s perhaps surprising, therefore, to discover that they only made their first appearance in London less than 70 years ago, although they are the modern incarnation of a much older tradition. Someone in Germany—story wants him to be none other than the founding father of Protestantism, Martin Luther—once thought of decorating an evergreen tree with tiers of lit candles, taking the first step towards turning Christmas into a festival
