Fight the Power

First, there was light. Then, there was no light, nor TV, nor Radio and no Internet - Oh, the Horror. We had a power cut this morning, 06:45 to be precise. After venturing into the cellar to check that it wasn't just a fuse, it was time to break out the torches. The boys thought it was great, running around with mini mag-lights, like a couple of Darth Vader/Luke Skywalker Mini-Me's. Kids Rock!

I was tasked with unenviable job of calling EDF Energy to report the fault. Now, normally when you call these places, you sit in a queue listening to "Muzak" versions of "Lady in Red" or "I will always love you", which, if endured for more than 15 minutes, would have Nelson Mandela strapping on his Uzi and heading for the nearest call centre. So, what a pleasant surpise I had whenI discovered that EDF's on-hold music, was a very Morcheeba - esque, rare groove. That groove did begin to grate, ever so slightly, after 45 minutes. After an hour and a half, I was ready to give the chill-out room a wide berth and head straight for the Psyche ward.

When I finally got through, the call centre patter was exactly as you'd expect - "Due to the cold weather, blah, blah, - Engineers are very busy, waffle, waffle, - no ETA yet, yawn, yawn. The lovely girl at the other end of the phone signed off with a cheery "Please wrap up warm". Even more bizarrely, she informed that the Red Cross were on hand with Heaters, should the power not be restored within 4 hours! I suddenly felt quite guilty - I am not a Senior Citizen (yet!) and, last time I checked, there was no requirement for Humanitarian aid in my little row of terraced houses. Yes, it was quite cold and, yes, my little boy is not very well and the central heating would make him feel a bit more comfortable, but, in reality, there is very little danger of any household members being Cryonics patients anytime soon. This is not a "How crap is Britain" type diatribe, but, more of an indication of how utterly reliant we have become on our creature comforts. If it were a rant on "Crap Britain" (copyright - The Sun), I would take great joy in telling you that when I called back, to inform them that loss of service was also affecting the rest of the road, their call centre had gone into meltdown!

"Britain, Britain, Britain, a bloody lovely place to live. Discovered in 1972, lost in 1974. Then found a few years later hiding under Belgium. But what makes Britain so fan dabby dozey? Why it's the great British public. Ahhh, push it, push it good, ahhh, push it, push it real good! l"