Peter Rhodes on conscription, electricians and a particularly dark drama

PS: Any vicar wishing to nick this parable of light and darkness for a Lent sermon is reminded that terms and conditions apply.

Meanwhile, before anyone asks, yes, I have given up something for Lent. Self-denial.

Come to think of it, the “Stygian darkness” of our house is not all that Stygian when compared with the uber-gloomy police offices in the new BBC series of Bergerac. We haven't seen dramatic dimness quite this dim since the tallow candles of Wolf Hall. Is electricity particularly expensive in Jersey?

By chance, the Europe-wide debate about reintroducing conscription began as I was finishing my new book, Pure Nobility.

It tells the tale of my grandfather who was gassed in the final days of the First World War but survived, and his brother who was blown to bits on the Somme.

Both of them had good reasons to be excused military service, yet both insisted on signing up. In their little Yorkshire village of about 80 dwellings, no fewer than 43 young men joined the colours. Eight of them were killed.

The abiding view today is that the youngsters of 2025 would not fight for their country. Yet one of the most powerful instincts driving young men, whether as football fans, gamers or social-media jokers, is the desire not to be left behind.

I have a hunch that Generation Z would answer the call, just as their forbears did. Let's pray we never have to find out.

I couldn't see the aftermath of the ship collision in the North Sea this week without being reminded of a friend who, many years earlier, had trained as a teenage cadet on a merchant ship.

Awesome responsibilities came early. His proudest moment was bringing a vessel safely around Cape Horn in a storm. The ship was as long as a football pitch. He was 18.