Monday, April 11, 2005

Blank blackWe'll just hum
[or Normal service will be resumed shortly II]

It's one of those days. Firstly scurrying off to Notacity to do something which has been booked for months. I get there, go through the usual rigmarole to get into the building, even though I could (and have) just walk round to the side and come in the lorry bay. And then once I get where I'm supposed to be, I'm greeted with "What are you doing here?"

Patiently I explain. And then I find out that I'm meant to be there at the end of the week. I wave a letter showing the date. He agrees that the people who arrange these things are amazingly wonderful. Hey, it's only petrol (and my time), it's not like it costs much. Cue the mental calculation of 2 X miles / Y mpg x (Z £pl into gallons is A £pg) = Grr.

Half-smiling civilly, half-swearing I go to my usual base during the day. And this is where the Radiohead lyrics come in. Slight power cut. Nothing doing.

So it's a sunny morning, and without a computer there's not much I can do. I nearly try blogging the event live for posterity, until I notice the slight flaw in that plan. I could slink off and go swimming, except someone's already found out that the gym's power is off too.

So how widespread is it? Thus begins the hunt for a battery operated radio. And so we come to notice just how ubiquitous mains has become. Eventually I find my Walkman buried deep in drawer together with a selection of possibly dud batteries. I really ought to clear all this out, but I'm not sure the power cut will last that long.

All of which means I'm now listening to ghastly local radio with a penchant for Geri Halliwell and other plumbers of great depths, simply to try and gain news on the scale of the blackout. So far, about half-an-hour after it started, the radio has made a fleeting mention of a power cut in some small village somewhere. Then, a couple of celebrity-news's later, they mention that they've had a report of one of traffic lights being out, buried amidst news of queues on the M25 (which isn't really news).

A brief call to one of the power companies (which one are we with again?) confirms the affected. The radio still carries on blathering about [M]Anastasia.

It's back, and the radio has just run travel news confirming that one set of traffic lights is out. But they mention it's the ones by the roundabout, only the road they name has no roundabout anywhere near it.

Ah, crap local radio is great isn't it? The dj presenter has collapsed into giggles in advance of one of his own jokes.

Drat, I've just discovered what happens to Walkmans left on desks when the person listening walks off to do something else. And still the cheesefest continues.

I supposed I better get on with something,


PS. I've just realised I could have done a Ryan, and scanned the longhand version of this, but I won't as all that would do is bewilder the remaining readers. Legibility is not my strong point, although I have been told that my writing "looks nice from a distance".

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