In a fit of unfettered curiosity about the wonkily hanging light fitting on the ceiling of the Wendy House bathroom with a bulb that didn’t respond to the light switch, I turned off the mains electricity then used one of my fancy little screw-drivers to remove the fitting. It was not a water-protective fitting, the wires were bare. I need a complete new light fitting, not just a bulb.
Even Wikipedia acknowledges the pecularities of English home electirical wiring traditions. There are no sockets in English bathrooms and the light is controlled by a pull-chord. I noted the red and black wires hanging from the ceiling, covered the ends in insulation tape and bounced off to a lighting shop (by bus).
All the lights looked jolly pretty with a mass of small chandeliers both modern crystal and psuedo candelabras.
I asked the lighting assistant if I could look at the wiring on the lights to see how I would attach them to my two wires in the ceiling. The lights in the shop all had 3 wires, yellow, blue and stripey yellow-green (earthed). I asked about how they mapped to my 2 wires. The assistant tushed in a patriarchally concerned manner and advised that I get an electrician to install my light. Luckily, dad and one brother are electricans.