How dependent on the internet we’ve all become! Somewhat over a week ago, my telephone landline ceased to operate and so concomitantly did my broadband connection. I could no longer send or receive e-mails or perform online searches. On the positive side, no one could bother me with telephone calls.
I went to a neighbour’s house and phoned the British Telecom repair service. To be more precise, I spoke to a machine with a soothing voice, on which I felt a mounting desire to inflict damage. I gave the neighbour’s number for a return call. Said call duly came. I was told my phone and internet service should be restored within five days.
In the interests of research for the novel I then went to Colchester, Essex for a couple of days. The fine weather was conducive to improved wellbeing, and it was fascinating to make the acquaintance of the oldest recorded town in England. (Roman historians referred to it as ‘Camelodunum’ in the 1st century BCE; its ruler, the chieftain of the combined Belgic tribes of south-east England, they called ‘the king of Britain’. His name was Cunobelin, rendered ‘Cymbeline’ in Shakespeare’s play of that name, and celebrated in nursery lore as Old King Cole. None of which has anything to do with research for the novel.)
At least, I thought, my internet will be working again when I get back home. Not so, however; phone was still dead, no broadband connection. Further inquiry of BT advised me that the service would be restored in a further four days. Actually, it came back on yesterday (Saturday) – or at least the phone did; I still had no internet connection.
This morning I checked the viability of the modem (all was well) and then replaced the home hub… which did the trick. So I’ve now caught up on my e-mails and, lo and behold, I’ve been able to post a blog!