We have been without the internet for almost three days now. We had a rather innocuous thunder storm on Friday night (we had unplugged the modem and the phones just in case. That’s an automatic reaction here).
But it wasn’t our usual lighted match in a Chinese fireworks factory explosion of thunder and lightning. Just a normal Ardeche storm.
But somewhere on the network it must have been huge. Because when I called our network provider (Okay, I’ll out then, Orange) there was a cheery recorded announcement to say that so many people are calling to complain they aren’t even bothering to provide humans to take your call.
Instead there was just a message saying the network is down and if you want more information, go online to our website. Errr. We have no ONLINE. That’s why we are all calling to complain.
Venting one’s frustration on a recorded announcement does offer some satisfaction, but not much.
And it’s amazing how antsy one feels without being able to go online. You can’t just read the old newspapers or one’s book club book. You pace. And glare at the red flashing on the malfunctioning modem high on the pantry shelf.
The views on the drive around the valley to her house are so uplifting.
And it takes my mind off the more mundane drudgery of working out how to repair all the wild boar damage.