Saga of a woman old enough to know better who lets her life be governed by the ridiculous hobby of breeding and showing dogs, musing on life, the twenty first century, Cameron and his mini-me, and the occasional sheep.
"IN DOG YEARS, I`M DEAD"
Well, the storms rattle on. Not sure whether this is better or worse than being snowed in, but have a sneaking feeling I would prefer the white stuff.
I was reasonably lucky as to damage, which was just as well with the leaky roof. But when I ventured out at dawn after the big one, I was a bit taken aback to see the telephone pole nearest the house waving back and forth like a conductor`s baton. Amazingly, the wires were still intact. In fact, they were all that was holding the pole up.
Followed a wonderful excursion into the realms of communicating with BT. Impossible online, where you cannot get beyond "test my line for faults", and infuriating on the phone, where you wander around menus and submenus all designed to sell you products. Eventually I hit the legendary Mumbai call centre, where after explaining I needed a replacement pole, I was sent to more menus asking me if I wanted broadband.....
And then I had a brainwave . I remembered that in the old days if you needed a gas service in a hurry, you said in a scared voice "I think I smell gas..." I got Mumbai again, and this time shouted down the phone to faraway India, "Danger! I have to report a dangerous telephone pole! When it falls, it could kill someone!
That did it. There was a flurry of "what is your address - we will have some one there right away." And the next morning an engineer was down to look at it, now leaning at a jaunty angle.
"I`m not going near it - looks a bit dangerous" he said. "Number six pole - the boys will bring a replacement down."
I can see I have hit on a good technique here, and am working on how to adapt it for plumbers, electricians and getting my undeniably dangerous bin emptied on time