The Joy of Reconnection

Am back online. Has been very difficult being without Internet access, but thanks to Long Suffering BT Technician, whom I abused verbally I am ashamed to admit, I am back surfing in the ether. A lot has happened to me in the interim between having Internet and The Joy of Reconnection. I am now living elsewhere in Derbyshire with Somebody Else. Two has been supplanted by Three. I sincerely hope that Three will prove to be Third Time Lucky. Two is not particularly unhappy about this, at least I don't think he is. We are still in touch and hope to remain friends in best tradition of Life Is Too Short and similar cliches. Went back to house the other day to collect spare telephone in anticipation of getting landline in new cottage, and discovered Two has re-arranged living room in somewhat startling fashion, ie. a bit of a mess. He was however cooking his supper and appears to not be wasting away. Is all very strange.

Am now living with Three in cottage with beams in living room, very low beams- very low ceiling. Good grief, had trouble spelling 'ceiling' or is it 'cieling'? No not cieling, i before e except after c. Am going mad. Senile dementia. Ga Ga. Natural progression. Have been doing crosswords on regular basis to keep grey fluff up to snuff, but haven't written anything for some considerable time. Hence have lost confidence with spelling. Also having trouble putting words together. Is not good.

Cottage also has large kitchen in manner of Old Farmhouse, but sadly the worktops and cupboards are probably Very Old and Tatty Farmhouse. Ditto the cooker, which sports four rings, only two of which are working. Have been juggling pans on top of stove, but am resigned to being forever Two Ringed. Landlady has been round, (also have impressive amount of rainwater pouring in through roof into upstairs wardrobe), and she assures me that She Is Onto It. The cooker that is. Apparently reconditioned electric cookers are scarce as hens teeth in Derbyshire. Her husband who is a 'Handy Man', disappeared upstairs on Christmas Eve Day to investigate and repair (ahem) roof. We had collected a large amount of water in saucepan and bowl the night before, when gale force winds and torrential rain battered us. At some point during the night we heard above the steady trickle of water into the wardrobe, a faint sound of smashing glass as the wind whooped and wuthered around us. 'There goes the greenhouse' said Three with admirable restraint. He was right. A pane of glass had been blown clear away from what was in truth already a ramshackle erection. The huge and flimsy gates at the end of the property have also met with some structural damage during the night, as most of the top of them had also parted company and been blown away across the