When electricity was still “simple”…

"My goodness, installing electricity was easy in the '60s!" you say, standing with a screwdriver in your hand and half a kilometer of cable around your neck as if it were the latest winter collection from Maison Kortsluiting.

Back then, you only needed three things:

- A screwdriver.

- A roll of electrical tape.

- A healthy dose of optimism.

Plans? Those were for architects. Schematics? Only for those who couldn't remember where they connected the wire to the wire to the other wire.

You walked into a client's house and they said:
"Sir, I'd like a light in the living room."
And you replied confidently:
"No problem, ma'am, how many watts do you want? Or just 'cozy'?"

Then you ran a cable from the basement to the attic, through the kitchen, past the toilet (just to be safe), and ended up somewhere behind a cabinet that was never to be moved again. Everything worked. Mostly.

The fuse box? That wasn't a closet, that was an adventure park. One wrong move and you had free fireworks. But hey, that was all part of it. If the lights went out, you just said:
"See, the system works! Security tested!"

And those cables around your neck? That wasn't junk. That was "mobile inventory." You were a walking DIY store. People recognized you from a mile away:
"Ah look, there comes the man making sparks!"

The best moment was always when you solemnly flipped the switch. Everyone held their breath.
Click.
When the light came on: applause.
If it didn't:
"That was a test, I still had to ground something."

These days you have inspections, standards, diagrams, apps, digital meters... In the '60s, it was mostly courage and a bit of luck.

And yet... it burned. Sometimes literally. But mostly just a cozy, warm light.

And you stood there, proud among your jungle of cables and light bulbs, as if you had personally invented the sun.