Power outage was a shock to the system
ESB crews pulled out all the stops to restore power lines
I WAS one of the lucky ones who experienced an electricity blackout at the beginning of ‘the snow’.
At 3am on Saturday week, the power went. Not too bad, it was in the middle of the night, the house was warm and I was hopeful all would be resolved early the following morning.
I got on the phone at around 9.30am and enquired about an expected restoration time. Having listened to a lengthy list of places without electricity, I wasn’t too hopeful that all would be resolved anytime soon – and then the nice person on the end of the line said she could only estimate a restoration time of 4pm.
I knew she was clutching at straws, but with the country – or most of it, at least – under a white blanket, what else could I expect? All I could do was thank my lucky stars that the cooker had a gas hob, so at least we could boil water and enjoy a nice hot cuppa.
However, the silence in the house was deafening. Not a sound anywhere. And as luck would have it, my phone, which normally carries a minimum charge of 80% or 90%, was down to 9%, so even if I did want to listen to the news, it would have to be done sparingly – at least until the power was restored. Other than that, it would be a case of going out and sitting in the car waiting to recharge its battery.
Pondering the state of the nation over said cuppa, it suddenly dawned on me how dependent my house is on electricity. Nothing – except for that all-important gas hob – works without it.
We live out the country, have our own Puraflo effluent treatment system, but work off electricity, as do the power showers, lighting, broadband and even the sparking mechanism on the hob. We also have solar panels, topped up by an old fashioned oil-fired central heating system. The solar panels were redundant and even the oil-fired system needs electricity to pump the heating around the house.
But all was not lost. Being of a certain age, the house also enjoys a most inefficient open fire. Many years ago, I fiddled around with the notion of installing a stove, but by the time a new flue would be added, the fireplace sealed up and all the other bits and bobs needed to get a stove operational, the purchase of said stove became incidental to the overall cost – hence no stove was ever installed.
There is nothing better than sitting in front of a roaring fire – yes, I know 80% of the heat goes up the chimney – and looking out at the snow-covered fields for a few minutes, but then reality bites and you begin to wonder when the power will be restored.
Boiling water in a saucepan is all well and good for the first one or two cups of tea, but I much prefer a kettle, even if that is also an inefficient way to go about making Ireland’s favourite beverage. I say favourite, because the cappuccino machine wasn’t working either.
The only way to get the milk nice and frothy for a cappuccino is to allow it to boil over on the hob, but the thoughts of cleaning up that mess was enough for me to stick to a Lyons tea bag.
Next thing I noticed was the lights had come back on and suddenly the fridges and other electrical appliances were quietly humming again. Happy days! The ESB, or whatever it is called these days, had come through ahead of schedule and everything was back to normal. Except for the lane where I live. The thoughts of doing anything to that 400-metre-long beast to get to civilisation had me almost getting back into bed and pulling the blankets over my head.
I didn’t venture onto the lane at all on the Sunday, hoping the farmers who needed to feed their animals would make a track along it, which I could later use as a means of escape.
On the following day, the plan worked a treat when getting out, but getting back to the house proved a different matter. I only managed to get to within 20 feet of the house when disaster struck.
The car would neither go forward or back. I was stuck in the middle of the lane with nowhere to go. It also meant no-one could get to the house – not that we are inundated with visitors, even at the best of times. Perhaps it is my gentle disposition they don’t like!
But, say nothing, one phone call later and along comes my knight in his shining white van and a while later the lane was clear, the car was parked outside the house facing towards the road for another getaway the following day – and the entrance/exit 400 metres away was also cleared. Paul Cowman, you are a lifesaver.
