Thirty Thousand Streets

Friday, March 07, 2008

The Day Nothing Worked..

Nothing has worked today (including me).

The internet at our flat, which was supposed to get cut off at the weekend and get re-connected on Thursday, instead worked all week, then cut out last night.

A package I ordered on Monday hadn't turned up so I went to the 'Banjonet' internet 'cafe' opposite the chameleon-like Redstar on Camberwell road to leave an email for the Ebay vendor who sent it.

Banjonet, once my favourite internet cafe, seems to be mutating into a nail bar. There was a lady getting her nails done in the window by a chinese chap wearing a face mask, and the place stank of amyl-nitrate. I felt dizzy just breathing in there.

The two dudes who run it, after selling me a ticket, couldn't actually get an internet connection, so I offered that I go to the Post Office while they sorted it out.

"You'll be alright in ten minutes yeah?"

I enquired.

"Yeah boss, sure"

Trotted down to the Post Office parcel depot to see if there was anything for my name and address. Nada.

Interestingly enough, the guy 'serving' me at the counter was engaged in a phone conversation with someone at Royal Mail about two bank cards of his that hadn't shown up. The irony.

I returned to Banjonet. No internet still at the internet cafe, so I got quid refunded and moved to the next one up the street, where I could get on the internet, but it wouldn't let me download PDFs, so some documents I needed to print were unobtainable.

So I moved to the next internet cafe and bought another half hour on the web, plus two A4 printouts.

I went home, consulted my account, filled them in and went to post them. On route to the post box I found that the gum on the envelope was unsticking, so went back home, and sellotaped it shut.

Cleaned the flat. Whilst cleaning assorted mirrors and windows, noted that 'glass cleaner' actually does a better job of smearing than cleaning. Maybe that's me though.

Rang BT, and established that even though the phone line was re-established three days after changing the name of the account holder, it'll take a week as of today to get t'internet back.

Back to the Latin American internet cafe over the road to check my mail again. The space bar isn't working very well. They seem to have a hairdressing salon incumbent, and from the stairwell to it downstairs by which I'm sat, wafts the aroma of burning hair.

I'm going out now. To watch a film. Hope that works.

1 comment:

mountainear said...

Vinegar and newspaper for sparkling glass. Only smells like the chippy for a few moments.