By 4 pm I was getting rather anxious. Then a text message arrived to say that the lines were clear and to cancel the diverting of calls. As there had been no sign of a technician, and no calls diversion had been arranged, I popped outside to see what I could see. There was a technician, but all he was doing was checking the lines, which he said were working. But what about my non-working telephone, and the T Hub, I asked? He knew nothing of this, it was not his job, but he obligingly came into the house and had a squizz. He concluded (as I had) that they did not work: the power was working, but the telephone and its near relatives were defunct, kaput, indeed an unendearing form of still life.
Sigh. Now I have to ring The Philippines again and go through the whole story again. Omi..
The technique must be decided. More in sorrow than in anger? Righteous indignation? Solitary little old lady? Outraged customer? Who knows! Perhaps all of the above.
It is a nuisance. Today was a free day, tomorrow is not. Nor is Thursday. Or Friday.
While all of this was not happening, having exhausted myself vacuuming with a tiny pull-along machine, which made my back ache like billy-oh, a friend called around. We had a cup of tea and a deep and meaningful conversation about technology, husbands, the vicissitudes of life, and Italian dictionaries, and the mysteries, vagaries and delights of iPads. She had come around to help me with my new iPad, but we had plenty of other things to discuss.
Then there was another knock at the door. Surely it could not be the technician for the T Hub and the telephone? Alas, it was not. Instead, it was a pleasant surprise: a friend and former colleague from Canberra. He used to do the statistics for me. He wound up staying, and we went out for a good fish dinner nearby. Then we watched an interview with Clive James, which was excellent. He set out for Canberra and, having attended to the re-charging needs of my devices, I sat down to do my Italian for tomorrow's class. This is what I started yesterday until my biro expired.
It is finished now, or as finished as possible until Barbara, our teacher, does all the corrections at the class. We always have lots of mistakes which need to be corrected. But even if it is only Italian rather than technical problems, I live in hope.