Malone realises she needs to invest in a torch

So I’d just put the little one down for bedtime and was about to enjoy mama-time when suddenly all the lights, phone, oven, fridge, TV and Wi-Fi went off! There was a power cut in my area. I couldn’t even light a tea-light as the stove igniter is electric! I had to go out into the street and ask a stranger to light my candle! It was like being in The Blitz except there was no team camaraderie as I seemed to be the only one in it. No-one else was in the street lighting candles!

I couldn’t even make a phone call to friends as my landline handset is powered by electricity. Even my mobile phone stopped working at the same time as the power cut! (Apparently the power cut had blown the fuse on the mast that my basement flat needs to work.) I have never felt so cut off in my life. (And I lived in a hut in rural Thailand once. At least there were people there! And I could leave the hut!)

“Eventually an old man who looked like a sailor lit my candle with shaky hands, whispering in my ear: ‘Bill’s the name’”

Image: Dan Evans www.idrawforfood.co.uk

I began to wonder if it was OK to leave my child sleeping while I popped out to find neighbours or shop for candles. Would that be neglecting my child or protecting my child? Single parenting is rubbish. I wanted my man to come home for dinner, find none made, and go out for fish ’n’ chips like a modern caveman telling me: “there’s candles in the drawer, of course, silly!” The only use my mobile phone had was to light the under-sink cupboard so I could look for candles.

Why don’t I own a torch? What kind of adult am I? You should be given a golden torch at age 18 to define your adulthood. For ‘emergencies.’ I think I did buy one once from my beloved Poundland, therefore its life expectancy wasn’t long, and the batteries cost seven times the price of the torch. I bought it for a festival; I didn’t buy it for emergencies. What is wrong with me? I’m a parent for God’s sake! I should own a torch! I scrabbled under the sink looking for a candle.

I found nothing but plastic bags and boot polish. Fortunately I found a Christmas gift containing a tea-light, (that I had forgotten had a use apart from collecting dust). No-one in the street had a lighter… come on, I know we’re Green now, but it’s OK to use a lighter isn’t it?! Why don’t I have matches? Eventually an old man who looked like a sailor lit the candle with shaky hands, whispering in my ear: “Bill’s the name!”

As I crept down my basement steps trying to protect my flame from dying, I couldn’t help wonder if he had said “m’lady”, and had to check I wasn’t wearing a white nightdress. Without electricity I felt I transported to 1810. 2010 rocks. I’m off to buy a torch.