Do you remember the works in my street last week? Well, if you don’t, check two posts before. The works have finished. They were not too noisy, but they worked fifty centimetres from my door and behind it there is the living kitchen ― as I call it ―, so it was annoying for cooking or watching TV.
The thing is that we suffered another blackout last weekend. My mother happened to be at home that day. She went to visit my grandmother and used the trip to visit me and brought some food (a lot) in the car. It sounds like I mastered the backpack move.
It was like an All You Can Eat. She took some boxes out of the car, put them in the living kitchen and displayed them on the table. I just had to choose All I Could Keep in my cupboard. While we were in the process, the light went off. I checked the fuses and everything was OK.
I lit a candle that a flat mate left there after the first blackout and went on with the supplies. A few minutes later I could see the power light of the TV on and tried to turn on the lights, but nothing happened. I tried different switches and find out that the light came back just partially. There was light in the rooms, but not in the toilets; the electricity reached the fridge and the TV, but it was not enough to make them work.
As usual in these situations, a group of neighbours met in the street wondering what had happened and everyone was in the same situation as me. It was really weird, but I had to leave for a birthday dinner by then anyway, so I didn’t care too much. I’m quite a carefree boy.