Snap! Crackle! Pop! And The Aftermath!

Thunderstorms with elaborate light shows that compete with the jazziest strobe light extravaganzas at discos and nightspots, are a common feature of our summer drought conditions.

Lots of noise, lights and action.

But not a drop of rain falls from the sky to the earth.

Standing in my kitchen at 5pm on Thursday evening, 11th February, I hear an explosion.

Then the overhead ceiling light – which is turned off – flashes on.

Then off.

Within a nanosecond I hear the crushing sound of lightning hitting the house.

Like an avalanche gaining momentum.

Instantly followed by the inimitable clap of thunder, as it roars its way through my roof.

The hair stands up on my head.

And my scalp tingles.

Once I disentangle myself from:-

. . . Jake, my Rhodesian Ridgeback, who is standing on my shoulders;

. . . Daisy Mae, my Rough Collie, who’s terrified of thunder and is trying to bury herself between my legs;

. . . And Feather, my Springer Spaniel X, who is usually cool, calm and collected. But is now firmly planted on my shoes like a block of concrete! . . .

– I can’t escape the unmistakable deathly quiet stillness which accompanies a blackout.

The house stops humming from all the electrical equipment that lets me know, second by second, that it’s on and working its heart out just for me.

They may be as noisy as a children’s school yard at recess. But how else will they let me know they’re doing their job?

My 5:05pm call to Integral Energy is, as usual, the first they receive reporting an outage.

I presume residents think Integral Energy is hooked up to a computer system that instantly lets them know a power outage has occurred in Ilford.

Nothing is further from the truth.

No phone call.

No Mr-Fix-It arrives.

Victor rings back at 6pm to see if progress is being made on our request for help.

Yes.

It’s logged in and will be fixed by 7pm.

At 7:30pm, and still no lights, Victor rings again.

Sir, it’s been fixed. All of Ilford has electricity as of 7PM.

Wrong! We don’t. Who lodged that report?

#$@!

We don’t supply names, Sir.

Would you like us to generate another report that you have no electricity supply?

Sir?

@#$!%!

At 8pm, still no lights.

Victor makes another phone call.

There will be someone here at 9:53pm.

Sir!

Victor’s an old hand at this.

After 17 years of chronic power outages, he knows to ring every 15 minutes to check on progress.

It hurries them along.

And he’s right.

At 8:23pm, not 9:53pm, the Integral Energy truck beeps its horn at our front gate.

It’s Roger and Dick.

Roger’s been reconnecting us to power since 1992.

No one told us you were out, says Roger.

Where’s your regular offsiders, Nathan and Paul, asks Victor?

At home, tucked up in bed, where we should be, retorts Roger.

It takes them no time to discover the power pole took a direct hit.

As did our master switchboard.

They now have to travel back up the Sofala Road, to the top of Tara Loop, to look at a junction spur.

We’ll be back in an hour, Roger says.

At 10pm, the truck is back.

As they work to solve the problem, Victor and I resemble the crew of a council road gang.

You see them all the time.

Two guys working.

And everyone else standing around, leaning against a broom.

Watching.

We’re the broom leaners.

Or in Victor’s case, the torch bearer.

Me?

I’m watching.

And happily chatting away, catching up on local happenings and family news.

At 12:05am, we have lights.

Please check that everything is working, before we leave, Roger asks.

A cursory check says the fridge is on. The radio is on. Lights in every room. All appears to be OK.

Victor shakes their hands to thank them for a job well done.

I wave them off at the gate.

And blow them a kiss.

Roger blows one back.

I’m very grateful to these two men who work tirelessly until we’re reconnected!

Just before retiring for the night – or morning – at 1am, I decide to test my computer.

I push the button to turn it on.

Dead.

As is the EFTPOS machine.

Victor tries his computer.

All A-OK.

We plug both computers into a Belkin Uninterrupted Power Supply box, with the EFTPOS machine.

The Belkin UPS box is a very necessary piece of equipment for those of us in the bush who experience power outages in summer at almost the same frequency as we change our clothes.

Because it’s supposed to protect the plugins from lightning strikes and power surges.

We installed our first box in 2005.

It took many hits before dying in February 2010. And we had no fatalities with the equipment plugged into it.

The new box was installed on Monday, February 8th.

And was caught napping on Thursday, February 11th.

One last check.

The ceiling fan in my office.

I switch it on.

It greets me with a puff of smoke.

Zapped as well.

7am on Friday, February 12th, I ring Westpac Bank to report my EFTPOS machine as dead.

I have a 28 hour turnaround. A courier/technician will be there by Monday.

I inform Westpac that no courier/technician will travel down the Sofala Road.

It’s a secondary road that connects Mudgee to Bathurst, but it’s a dedicated ‘no go zone’ for couriers. Too out of the way.

Mark, my customer service representative, is shocked to hear this.

20 minutes later, Mark rings back to say I’ve been logged in as an urgent call.

At 8:10am, Stephen Howell of PrintMatrix in Eglinton rings. He’s on his way with a new EFTPOS machine.

At 8:15am, Barbara Murray, a neighbour 20 minutes away, rings.

Do we have electricity, she asks?

Yes, we do.

I don’t, she says. I’ve been out since 5pm yesterday.

Did you report it, Victor asks?

Yes, at 5:15pm.

She’s been forgotten for being toooo patient.

Victor’s advice?

Ring Integral Energy every 15 minutes until someone arrives.

At 9:25am, the power goes off.

No storm.

No warning.

It can only be Integral Energy switching off the power supply to fix Barbara Murray’s problem and reconnect her.

We understand.

It’s how things are done out here.

At 9:30am Stephen Howell arrives.

He can’t connect my EFTPOS machine without electricity.

He hands over the machine, with his card. Ring him when it’s ready to be connected. He’ll instruct me over the phone.

At 10am I leave for Bathurst with my dead computer.

Simon Luo at SV Computers in Bathurst is my computer Mr-Fix-It. He can fix every problem. And does it with a big smile.

Along with …. exceptionally poor English.

It takes all my attention and energy to focus on what he says.

And there’s much interpreting to do to understand what he’s actually telling me.

But I understand enough words to get the gist.

It’s a minor problem. The power supply was zapped. Everything else is in perfect working order.

All my data is intact!

I will fix it today, he says.

And gives me his megawatt smile.

I’m back in Ilford at 4pm.

With a working computer and a new ceiling fan for Victor to install.

We have electricity.

And another wild thunderstorm arrives on cue.

Mark from Westpac rings.

Is your EFTPOS machine connected and working?

I explain the happenings. And tell him we’re having another wild storm.

Please! Don’t plug it in, he pleads. Wait until the storm is over.

Yes. I promise.

And tell him how much I love and appreciate his very personal service and attention.

I can hear him smiling on the phone!

I also see a message from Stephen Howell of PrintMatrix. Don’t forget to ring me as soon as I get back, he says. I’ll help you install your machine over the phone.

It’s obviously my lucky day.

Service galore everywhere I turn.

All problems fixed.

Except the Belkin. Which is a Monday morning phone call.

This Guerrilla From The Bush knows that life is very sweet when everyone cooperates.

Take care,

Carol