Internet and not internet

The red internet light came on, I think it was Tuesday night. It happens from time to time but usually fixes itself up after a few minutes. Like a watched pot though, you have to go into another room for a few mintues before you can come back and find the green light back on.

We got by without it last night. I had House to watch on TV and there were forms to fill out for Little Miss L’s school. It was probably a good thing as it meant C couldn’t check her work email, forcing her to think about something else for one night. She told me today though, “I have stuff I need to do tonight. Fix the internet as soon as you get home”.

When I got home tonight and there were four green lights but one red one: the one you don’t want to be red if you want to link to the outside world without having to dial numbers (soooo 20th century). I tried the usual methods: turned off the router for a few minutes… reboot… red light again; unplugged the network cables… reboot… red again.

So the next thing to do was ring the ISP. I got through the initial phone menu, selected the appropriate options, then made a cup of tea and some toast while the scratchy hold music struggled out of the 1cm speaker of the phone. I watched the lights reset themselves over and over while I was on hold: one green, two green, three green, red!

I was caught a bit off guard when a real voice came on the other end saying “Hello, this is Hassan, how may I help you?” and as I was saying the words “My internet connection is down”, bugger me if the red light didn’t turn green, blink a couple of times, then settle into a nice solid all-systems-go kind of glow.

I gave Hassan my customer number as I plugged network cables back in and hit the home button on the browser, then told him what had happened and thanked him for a job well done as the timer on the phone clicked over to 30 minutes.

1 Response to “Internet and not internet”


  1. 1 Milla

    Had to come and see you as I so loved your bumbling fucktard comment on littleredtrain or whatever it’s called (Anna and the KFC rant). And the whole sofa malarkey. Classic. Dads in ads just can’t hack it can they, poor loves so it really is just as well that us pretty little things are so good at sewing ourselves sofa dresses to give us ten minutes off sipping on vile brown liquid. Jeez.

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