Hello! Yes, I’m still here.
This longer than usual silence (and I know, I know, I can be rather sporadic at the best of times) is due to a recent change of abode. I moved into my new flat. Exciting times, no? It would be much more exciting however, if I hadn’t been sitting surrounded by unpacked boxes in an oasis of internetlessness, bobbing alone and scared in a sea of password-secure wireless networks. When did everyone get so goddamn smart and IT literate? I should be surfing on the waves of number 15’s stupidity.
I moved a week ago, and so surely, it should all be up and running by now. Shouldn’t it? May I remind you though, that I live in England - hub of imperial power, seat of the global economy and, most recently, winner of pounds of Olympic gold. With such a glowing CV, one would think that getting connected to the modern world of phone and internetics should be a swift, efficient and painless process.
Well, let me tell it how it is. Firstly, wade through the quaqmire of British Telecom monopoly and new provider mayhem to work out exactly what you can or can’t sign up to. Then, spend umpteen hours on the phone, flitting through menu options and trying not to scream and throw your phone against the wall as you try to get through to an actual human being who may be able to give you a faint glimmer of understanding. Then, hand over bank account details and promises to pay lots of money in advance to be given the privilege of sitting at home for “5-10 working days, luv” without any internet at all and no written contract. Just the mumbled promises of a bored and overworked call centre employee.
Currently, I’m at about day 5. I am holding it together for now. Just.
