Candlelight supper (cold)

Last night, we peered out of a rear bedroom window at the ensuing scene below. No chance of being caught snooping, as we were in total darkness. As was every house and street lamp around us. Two men in the electricity substation site at the bottom of our small garden were straining every sinew to restore power which had disappeared with a strange boom and a flickering of lights some five hours earlier. One man held a spotlight, while the other referred to a manual. It looked as though it was going to be a long job. 

We blew out all the candles and like a pair of Wee Willy Winkies, we carried a candle each to bed. It was only nine pm but we had been in darkness since four that afternoon. Peering is tiring.

No light to read by, no tv, no radio and no computer. Even our phones had died. It was a salutary lesson in how not to be prepared. 

A future list would contain batteries for the radio, a robust torch, and plentiful supply of large candles. Fairy grotto candles are good for fairies, but not for ageing eyes, where ambient gloom spells doom. 

I reflected on the day, as I lay in bed. It had been the last hurrah of the season to celebrate Christmas before decorations were packed away. One last big lunch. I had foolishly asked my Dearest husband to vacuum the living room. Not a job he has done, for about 25 years. The hoover, he told me, was far too heavy. ( It is the lightest and smallest Miele you can buy.) He told me that all the sockets were in the wrong places as you had to move furniture to reach them. ( An armchair, 6 inches to the left). At this point, I closed the kitchen door. 

I wondered, could it be possible that my undomesticated spouse, whilst railing at  imposed drudgery, had caused a power surge that reduced the whole neighbourhood to a grinding halt? I decided that, sadly, the idea was too far-fetched, as I slipped into a dreamless sleep. With a smile on my face.

Get the picture? Only just....