POWERLESS

Living without electricity for eight months was not part of our grand plan. Although the notion of candlelit evenings had seemed a romantic one to me when we'd first bought the finca, it didn't take long for me to get a reality check.

How was I going to style my hair without a hairdryer? How would we manage to do our laundry and ironing? And, as someone who'd given up a good career to become a freelance writer, how was I going to write when I had no means of charging the battery on my laptop? Even the old typewriter I'd bought in the pre-laptop days was an electric one . . .

To be strictly accurate, we weren't entirely without electricity. We had one small solar panel mounted on the roof and an old battery which, on a good sunny day, provided us with a 12 volt power system. It was just enough to give us about two hours of lighting daily - as long as we had only one light on at a time and continued to use what were probably the world's first low-energy lightbulbs. Trust me, it was brighter by candlelight.

In the interests of safety, we decided that a wiring check would be prudent and we called on the services of Sñr Gomilla - a local electrician who'd only just returned to work after open heart surgery and whose angry-looking chest scar was visible under his unbuttoned shirt.
He was not too impressed with what lurked within our walls. I think it was something to do with the electric shock he got while probing beneath the yellowing plastic switchplates. Luckily it was only a 12 volt system.

And we weren't too impressed when we received the bill for his services. He clearly charged extra for electric shocks sustained . . .

Copyright Jan Edwards 2008