So that's, what, almost eight weeks without an internet connection? Do I win a prize?
It goes something like this: An unnamed major telecommunications company swears blind that your phone line will be set up by the time you move into your new house. It isn't. You ask why, and are told that they've arbitrarily moved your appointment date. The new date comes and goes, as do the next two. No-one seems able to explain why. Eventually, you are told that - get this - gypsies have stolen the cables. I shit you not.
Things go on for a while. Your phone line eventually gets connected, but no-one thinks to tell the telecommunications company's computer. You can't get your broadband hooked up until that computer understands that there's a phone line to your house. Ringing their support guys five times on the actual line itself does nothing to convince them that the phone on which you're speaking to them exists.
Eventually, the problem gets escalated and passed on to an emergency resolution team. Latest state of play: the emergency guys turned the job away because they say there's no phone line to our house. That's right, the top minds at that company have decreed that the phone line we've been using to report the problem officially does not exist. We've been using magic, evidently. Now we have to wait another forty-eight hours for them to reconsider the case.
Seriously, this beats even the Kafka-esque nightmare of my battle with the tax people last year. The whole thing has become so huge and ridiculous that I'm actually starting to enjoy it.
Back whenever I get a chance. I'll try to talk about comics next time.