For several hours this morning the telephone did not work. Not just the land line but my cell phone and the last resort mobile wireless phone I have as backup in the event land line fails and no credit on cell. Fat lot of good that was then.
Given that I was due to file a story with a newspaper editor the total lack of communication threw me into something of a panic. Newspapers editors have little truck for journalists who plead isolation and email failure, using such an excuse would elicit a response like, ‘there are plenty more freelancers out there who could have made a plan …’.
So I tried to make a plan. I drove to husband’s office (husband himself is away on business this week) and asked the secretary ,Verynice, if her internet was working. (Verynice really is her name, I’m not making this up, the first time I was introduced to her, ”and this is Verynice, the office secretary …”, I waited for a Margaret or Grace, assuming I’d heard “and this is our very nice office secretary” but no, that was it: Verynice). No, said Verynice, no comms here either.
I could have driven to the nearest town (nearest as in closest on the map, not nearest as in nearby) but that would have meant 3 hours on a dirt road which my car would have battled with.
Given that at the moment the national airline has arrested all flights in and out of the Outpost it dawned on me that Hat and I were, only briefly, thankfully, utterly stranded in the middle of nowhere; unable to get out, unable to summon anybody to our rescue, unable to send sodding story.
Mercifully by lunchtime communication had been restored, I filed my piece and settled down to a happy hour browsing titles at Amazon.
God this is a surreal existence at times.