Thirty Eight of Them

Oh, the shame.

Ten days until the recycling man comes around again so it was a case of loading up the car with the big clinking blue box and heading into the nearest recycling machine. What with Hogmanay tomorrow there was no way we'd squeeze in another batch of empties.

So, Euan put up his hood to hide his identity and fired the empty wine, Bud, Coors, vodka, whisky, Crabbie's & Bailey's bottles one-by-one noisily into the machine. Oh... and there was an empty Olbas Oil bottle too.

Got home to find the internet down. No land line either. Reported it to BT and have been told they'll try and fix it within three working days. What with Hogmanay, New Year and the Bank Holidays coming up, that'll take us up to around next Friday.

Luckily I've managed to hack into one of the neighbours connections so that'll keep me posting on here until we're fixed.*

It's frightening how much we've come to rely on this internet thing for nearly everything we do - I went automatically to the computer at least half a dozen times to check stuff before it clicked that wasn't going to happen. Even the fault reporting process through BT sends you to an online reporting form first, rather than a phone number page. All a bit difficult on a 'smart' phone with a tortuously slow connection. Ended up driving to the local cemetery to park up with the iPhone tethered to the computer in the pitch black to follow up on the initial contacts. My face all lit up from the laptop as I sat in the deserted car park must've set the curtains twitching in the houses over the road, but it was the nearest place I could get a 3G connection. Well, that's my story anyhow.

*I haven't really done that... ;-)