Before streetlights hummed on by themselves, cities employed people whose entire job was to walk the evening. The lamplighter carried a long pole with a small flame at its tip, strolled a familiar route at dusk, and woke each lamp one by one. At dawn, they walked it all again in reverse, tucking the lights back to sleep.

Children followed them. Neighbours set their clocks by them. In some towns the lamplighter doubled as a gentle watchman, calling out that all was well.

Every evening, someone whose whole job was to bring the light, one small flame at a time.

A handful still make their rounds today, in corners of London and Brest. The rest left us something nice to borrow: the idea that ending a day slowly, lamp by lamp, is honest work.