Friday 29 May 2015

Power Cut

Spooky lookin' feker!
The electricity was very inconsiderate and decided to go on strike between midnight and 1am recently.

I quite like the dark and we keep the landing light on for the kids which is a bit of a pain in the arse, so to be bathed in velvety darkness was heaven.

Then Lovely Liam woke up.

In pitch blackness.  And thought his eyes had stopped working.

It was a second or two before I figured out what had happened too. I couldn’t see my hand in front of me. Somewhere there was a child crying softly and I knew by the shuffling sounds he was walking around.

I jumped out of bed before he fell head first down the stairs.

I guided him back into our bedroom with some difficulty.  He kept turning round in circles and at one stage tried to walk through the mirror. 

“Where are you?  I can’t see you.  Don’t leave me.  What happened?”

“The electricity is gone.  It’s ok.  Jump into my bed to keep warm. Your daddy is gone downstairs to flick a few switches.”

It was so dark.  And so quiet.  I looked out the window and the road lights were out too.  
Not a trip switch so.

I managed to find the Lego Star Wars torch thingy santy had brought and used the light in his legs to walk downstairs. 

The radio clock was out too and I wanted my phone to tell the time. 

Some time later Lovely Liam and I were wrapped up, back in his bed, with the light from the Star Wars man casting an eerie glow about the room.

“It’s a good thing Santy brought that, isn’t it?  Or we’d be DOOMED!”

“It sure is.  It’s late. Try and get some sleep now.”

“But what happened?  I couldn’t see anything!”

“The electricity is gone, that's all.  But I found you, didn’t I?  The lights will come back on in a minute.”

“Ok.  Does our car work?”


“How come?”

“Because it doesn’t need electricity.  Please go to sleep.”


My eyelids were closing.

“I was a bit scared.”

“I know you were, Liam.  But me and your Daddy are right next door to you.”

“That’s a good thing.”

“Yes, it is.”

“I have one more question.”

Of course you do.

“Will our sink work?”

Jesus, I hope not.