The Youngest of the Darling Daughters texts me to ask if I am able to "find Joy" just at the moment. She is reminding me, gently, of my assertion in a previous Daily Blog that approaching any task, however formidable or
taxing, will be easier if I "do it with joy." Whoever Joy may be, as Mr B would doubtless enquire, tongue firmly in cheek.
It was, indeed, a little difficult to find Joy this morning. Here's why. Today was
the day we were to switch our Broadband and telephone provider. Our Boy had negotiated us an excellent package which was going to save us, if not mega-bucks, then at least a tidy sum per month. We had, moreover, received an interesting package via Royal Mail,
enclosing everything we would need for "lift off." It had been sitting on our dining room table for days, along with a pile of family photographs (awaiting sorting); several yellowing newspaper supplements detailing "Britain's Most Glorious Summer Walks"(which
Mr B wants me to pass on to my sister and her fella); and two DVDs (Mr B's latest purchase from the Amazon Jungle.) A large notice informed us that today - September 12th - was The Day.
I must have fallen
back to sleep this morning because I was rudely awoken from my slumbers by an agitated Mr B, waving his walking stick in the air and announcing that we had "trouble". BT, it seemed, had not wasted a single moment in disconnecting us - which, to be fair, they
were perfectly entitled to do. This meant, however, that until I could get the Sky Hub connected and the phone line reconnected our home alarm was issuing a constant bleeping noise. Meanwhile a disembodied voice from our Careline was declaiming repeatedly,
in an urgent voice: "Warning! The telephone line is not connected!"
My default approach, in such trying circumstances - especially when only half awake - is to boil the kettle for a cup of coffee. There is
real joy, don't you know, in that first cuppa of the day. Mr B, however, said he couldn't bear the noise any longer as he was already tearing his hair out. Metaphorically speaking, it must be said, Mr B being what is generally termed "follically challenged."
Well, I tried to obey the instructions written inside the lid of our Box of Tricks, despite not being at my best when faced with Wires and Sockets. I'm sure the person who wrote them will say they were easy-peasy - composed
with Dummies in mind. Finally I managed, more by luck than judgement, to reconnect the telephone. This was progress of a sort - but the home alarm was still bleeping, Sally Ann on the Careline was still informing us that the telephone line to her was disconnected.
Plus several people going on the Questers visit which I am organising to Fishbourne Roman Palace on Wednesday were now able to telephone me to complain that I wasn't answering my emails...
By lunchtime we
were going quite crazy but I made contact with an engineer at the Home Security company. Yes, a real, live person, as in someone I could talk to. He took me through, step by step, the process of stopping the incessant bleeping. "Has it stopped now?" he asked,
solicitously. Do you know, because the bleeping was still ringing in my ears, it took me a few seconds to register it was bleeping no longer. He found hear, he told me, Sally Ann issuing her dire warnings and said he only wished he could help. Bless him, I
am sure he meant it.
I won't go into the problems I had contacting the Careline people because it wasn't their fault. If I had only bothered to look underneath the "home unit" (presumably where Sally Ann of
the Dire Warnings lives) I'd have found their number straghtaway without having to spend half an hour waiting for the Council to answer me, then being given a discontinued number. Oh, dear, and I said I wouldn't go into all that....
"I'll be round straightaway," said the Really Rather Wonderful Anne-Marie. She was as good as her word. She unplugged this cable and plugged in that cable - and, lo and behold, Sally Ann was silenced
at long last. Our Friend In Need made a test call, changed the bracelet on Mr B's emergency call button and never, for a single moment, gave the impression that I was a Bit of a Nitwit not to have worked all this out for myself.
Dear readers, finally - after a troublesome morning - I found Joy.