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The house of no light

These are interesting times here at coastalblog towers. Due to a frankly wonky lighting circuit the house is plunged into darkness of an evening (all attempts to fix it have led to small, but exciting, explosions), our landlord is elusive and Jim and I despair, like an overly sarcastic Vladimir and Estragon of the arrival of the mythical electrician who will somehow make everything better.

To compound this we then endured three days (three!) without internet. No internet and no source of light leaves one, sadly, with only the television for company (romantic image it may be, but reading by candlelight gives me the most phenomenal headaches). Ah, television, I am reminded now of why I never watch it.

No, this is not entirely fair, there was a programme on last night with a jolly enthusiastic silver haired chap yomping up and down the highlands waving maps about. Now that's the sort of programme I like, I hope one day to become a jolly enthusiastic silver haired chap who yomps up and down hills, though I fear I'm more likely to go down the embittered silver haired chap who props up bars and snarls at teenagers route. I've got the snarling down pat already.

But map-waving guy aside it really was unmitigated dross, morning, and light, and a book by Gombrowicz brought sweet salvation.

In other news Robin's gone to Thailand. Bye Robin! Gosh, it's awfully quiet round here...

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