These days, you can end up in court for all sorts of misdemeanours—cybercrime, online fraud, even an ill-judged social media post. As society evolves and technology tightens its grip, the legal system adapts to keep pace.
But at the height of the Second World War in 1941, one of the gravest offences in Farnham—and across the country—was simply leaving a light on.
The woman in question was June Pollard of Dippenhall Grange, who stood accused of allowing light to escape from her home on the night of March 18 that year.
According to Beryl Falkner, the head air raid warden, she had been patrolling in her car when she spotted a “bright light” shining from an open door at The Grange.
By the time she approached the house, the door had been closed—but not before neighbours had also clocked the beam, allegedly visible for over a mile.
In court, Pollard defended herself, insisting the warden was being overly officious. She recalled hearing a knock at the door and thinking, “Good heavens, Miss Falkner again, I expect.”
When asked by the prosecuting solicitor why she hadn’t turned the light off before opening the door, Pollard replied: “Because I just put the cat out quickly.”
Unfortunately, this wasn’t Ms Pollard’s first brush with blackout regulations.
On April 4 that same year, she’d been fined 40 shillings (about £216 in today’s money) for a similar slip-up. This time, the magistrates fined her an additional 15 shillings, which must have dimmed her mood somewhat.
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