We moved in October 2012. Picture the scene. It is the digital age, the computer age, the information age. Call it what you will. The industrial revolution is long gone and we are no longer an agrarian society. Our national economy (what's left of it) is based on digital industries and a knowledge-based society operating in a high tech global economy. Technology dominates our daily lives.
So, why, oh, why, oh, why, did it take British Telecom two weeks to get us connected to anything electronic??? Was I annoyed? Slightly ruffled, perhaps. We'd moved into a house that had been a business specialising in marketing for about twenty years. There are at least 40 (if not more) telephone points around the building, not to mention computer points. (Which don't work because some idiot took out the server and simply cut through all the wires so that we can never have the networked house that we dreamed of...) One day, when I have nothing better to do (highly unlikely given what we have taken on here), I will count the telephone points for my faithful reader. And the lightbulbs. (There are 24 in our bedroom alone - and that's not counting the lamps.) There is so much for the reader of this blog to look forward to in future instalments.
|Telephone Points and BT Boxes in the Server Room aka H's En-Suite|
|Server No More|
I didn't like it. At all. Susie Maushart may have rediscovered Scrabble but I felt like I'd lost my ears. Luckily, my mum had the boxed set of Tanamara (!) and we managed to get the video to work. But that simply served to make me feel even more disorientated. How on earth did they get away with such horrendous, hammy acting in the '80s or whenever it was filmed?
After about a week, the aerial man finally arrived. I nearly kissed him. He must have thought me very odd as I chased around the house after him, explaining my delight and chattering furiously, so pleased to be able to communicate with someone other than my mum. With a bemused look on his face, he managed to get mum's TV working but there was a dilemma about our sitting room. The choice was to take a wire across the front of the house, which I thought the Conservation Officer might not like, or having a big long black wire stretching from the dining room through the hall to the TV in the far corner of the sitting room. Which was the option that I went for. But at least we had TV. The news! People in 21st Century costume, moving about and talking normally. It was all a far cry from Tanamara.
The black wire thing lasted through Christmas and beyond but S has since sorted it out, cleverly drilling a small hole in the wall of the dining room, attaching the wire discreetly on the outside of the house at the foot of the front wall and then taking it down into the cellar to bypass the porch before it arrives in his study and then goes through the wall into the sitting room. But at least we have TV!!
|Spot the Wire Competition - Leads into the Cellar|
I rang BT. The woman who answered was in Bangladesh, of course. Just plug the telephone into the socket, she said. Yes, but you see, it was a business, this house, I explained. There are at least 40 telephone points. I don't know which one it is. Just plug the telephone into the socket, she said. If you are alert, reader, you may be wondering how I had this telephone call with no telephone. You might wish you hadn't asked. S had managed to get hold of me to tell me the line was up and running. Which line? Try looking outside and seeing where the lines go into the house. (He is a genius.) I ended up in the server room aka H's en suite. And plugged the telephone into one of the sockets and got a dialling tone. Eureka! But after another couple of hours, I still had no internet connection.
|Just Plug the Telephone into the Socket|
|Socket in Mum's Sitting Room Cupboard!|
P.S. And another thing. BT don't give you a 'new' number anymore. It is a recycled one. Which means that if you get Mr Moore's number and he has run up some serious debt, you get lots of nuisance telephone calls. From Bangladesh. But not BT this time. We put up with it for a few weeks and then rang BT. Just put the telephone in the socket... No, seriously, the only thing they could offer was to change the number. So, yet again, a new number, which we had to advise everyone of. Well, one or two people and then I couldn't be bothered to do it all again. And then we started to get nuisance calls again. And we're on the telephone preference service. So, I took a leaf out of my friend D's book and have started threatening anyone who rings without a prior appointment that I will report them to the Information Commissioner. They probably don't know who the heck the Information Commissioner is in Bangladesh but, nevertheless, they seem to defer to authority and, for now, it is working.