It is 9.20pm on Wednesday night. I am snuggled under the bettermaker quilt, feet up on the footstool Watching Hidden Histories on BBC4 and waiting for ten o' clock when Mr M will be coming home from work.
The programme is really interesting about the oldest family butcher's business in England and the man is finding out lots about his ancestors
And then it went dark and silent.
A power cut.
My mobile phone whistles to tell me I have received a text message and then it does it again. Two messages. I peer at the first one. From my son in law telling me that the power might go off because he reported to the Electricity people that there was steam and an acrid smell coming out of one of their manhole covers in our street.
OH, so it's his fault.
I look at the other message. It's from my daughter. She asks if my power has gone off and am I OK or should she send her husband.
I reassure them both and then send a text to Mr M telling him that I am in darkness, well I have three torches and several candles, but I am ALRIGHT.
I potter about lighting the candles and switching on the little string of LED lights that haven't been put away after Christmas. Mr M arrives just after ten and he can reach the camping bag in the pantry, the one that holds the kettle that will go on the gas stove. Now everything is right with the world. We can have a cuppa and we could make food if we wanted it. I decide that as eleven pm approaches that I am for my bed so I take my little torch and off I go.
It was not until I came to write about my moment that I realised that I wasn't in the least bit upset by being in the dark on my own and didn't even get the hint of a panic attack. Things are certainly looking up!
This is written as part of a lovely idea by Alexa at Trimming the Sails why not go over there and take a look at the other moments, now that you've read mine :)