Last week we were unfortunate enough to experience a power cut, as the sub power station had gone for a Burton. For two whole days.
Yes ladies and gentlemen, for 48 hours we were without electricity, heat, or hot water. We gathered round candles in the evening and heated water for our ablutions on the gas stove. We fretted over the food in the freezer thawing out and raged that our beloved televisual programs could not be seen or recorded. And we huddled under piles of blankets at night as we struggled to keep warm in a house chilled to freezing by the absence of warmth.
Alright I exaggerate. It was only mildly chilly.
But during this time I began to feel a kinship with those people in times past who would've laughed at electricity in a home as a fancy, and the family would do as we did, gather round the candles to read or sew.
I did both. I had just started reading Pride and Prejudice, so barrelled through that as much as I could, and worked on my mum's embroidered aida bookmark, which ironically, depicts a Victorian garden. Its given me quite a renewed taste for needlework I must say, and I've almost completed it. Just need to attach the felt backing to the aida band, and will post a picture when its done.
But did this make me want to renounce electricity for ever? Gods no. I was cold, I was grumpy, I was cut off from the world, and most of all, I was BORED! Gods alone know what people did in winter to amuse themselves back then. I just went to bed having exhausted all available options.
I suppose I could've practised playing my guitar, but thats besides the point.
Power, I love you, let us never quarrel again, you fickle bastard.
And why it took the power company two whole days to fix it is beyond me...