I knew it was coming the moment my daughter called me on Friday morning asking why the Internet wasn’t working. And then I remembered that I had organised a switchover between one provider and the next, but interestingly enough I decided that I should organise it rather than let the service providers take care of the change and as such we have a blissful breathing space of 3 full days with no internet, and very little reception to get anything other than 3G while pressed up against the landing window waving the phone in the air, being able to see everything but unable to communicate with anything, a weekend of splendid isolation which the kids decided to spend at their friends houses, in bed and on the rugby pitch with a long stalk in the bath post match. 

Its not so bad really until your boiler starts sending you messages telling you that it can’t connect to the web, the electric car will not charge according to the rules and its pretty much impossible to connect to the servers at work. All of these things matter, but don’t matter, who cares if I can’t connect to the work servers? I texted my boss and told him of the maw in the internet I was rattling around inside, what can I do? And then I realised that the first day back to work after a particularly relaxing and then boozy weekend really doesn’t matter and one must gather ones thoughts in order to tackle the week head on when Tuesday comes, in which I shall be travelling down to Cardiff for a day of free coffee and elevenses, where the most exciting events peppering the day is the soft knock at the door heralding fresh coffee and those massive semi stale cookies, and far too much buffet lunch.