Travelling on the upper saloon of a 'bus during a black-out is a new experience in lighting effects for all of us. The single light over the stairway throws a feeble, cold ray over the backs of the seats. Each person seems cut off from the others, their faces are in shadow, and laughter and talk seem to come from some place outside the 'bus.
The traffic lights seem to have gained in strength as the rest of the lights have gone out. The red creeps along the ceiling of the 'bus as it approaches; the raindrops of the front window turn to blood. The amber light warms up the 'bus, then a cold, ghastly green shines on the passengers' faces as the 'bus moves past the crossing.
One of the difficulties of a black-out is how to screen the destination board of the 'buses and yet let pedestrians know where the 'bus is going without their having to stop it to find out. Large, black lettering, pasted on to the windows, especially the front windows, might show up sufficiently well against the weak interior lights.
However, I do not suppose we should grumble if that is the greatest inconvenience the war brings us.
The Irish Times, September 8th, 1939.