Wednesday, 14 November 2012


David and I went out to lunch trying to have a small celebration of our wedding seven years ago.
The weather was the same. Beautiful sun, warm on our faces. We sat and looked out to sea and had a quiet meal reminiscing.
About other meals, people long gone and those more recently deceased .
All the time we knew we had to get home. BT had said they would ring us at three.
They didn't. We saw two BT vans as we went out and hoped they might be for us at some stage. But they were not.
Now I know that a short time ago I fell asleep and woke in a nightmare. Impotent, disregarded, nothing is being done to put right a mistake.
It was not our mistake. But we are the ones suffering now.
I need to be able to thank people, to explain to those who depend on me that I'm not dead or in shock.
What happened to my son was dreadful enough. Surely we didn't need this as well.
They switched us off because sometime in the past two addresses got confused. Nothing to do with us. How long does it take to switch us back on again?

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