the rite is small and it is timed by the room, not the clock. you wait until the page on the table goes from grey to almost-grey — that is, until you notice you have been straining to read for some minutes without admitting it. then you light the lamp. only one. the kitchen and the rest of the house can wait another hour, or even two.
you do not strike the match in a hurry. you wait for the sulphur to burn off. some say welcome as the wick catches; some say nothing; some say, internally, the name of the person who first lit lamps in this house. the lamp answers by changing the colour of the wall behind it. the rite is complete when you have stepped back to your seat without blowing the match out yet, and the match has burned itself down to the fingers.
this is, in some houses, joined later by closing a book, or by pouring tea for two. it is not joined by the radio. the radio is for after.
— field note: a lamp lit before the room has asked for it will burn out faster than its oil should allow. no one has explained this.