There’s something exciting about a power cut, somehow it feels like you’re camping; without having to sit in a cramped tent in the cold and the rain. You can bring out torches and candles and, depending on who you’re with, you can even start a sing a long! (or maybe that’s just me)
In my first flat in London (known as ‘the crap flat) we had a power cut one night and since the land lady had turned the lounge into another bedroom we all hung out at the top of the stairs and chatted; it was a rare moment of flat sharing, in flat that was more like a Victorian boarding house.
The only exceptions to this is 1) when it’s 10am, you haven’t made coffee yet, and you’re supposed to be writing an essay on a desk top computer (true story) 2) when the power goes off in the middle of the night, which happened last night.
The excitement does go out of a power cut when it’s 3am (I think – obviously my alarm clock wasn’t working) and the burglar alarm starts beeping at regular intervals to tell you that the power isn’t on. Firstly, well, you’re in bed and were sleeping so you expect it to be dark and secondly, WOULD THE DAMN BEEPING STOP ALREADY!
Of course the beeping stopped eventually (once the power came back on AND I got up in the cold to set and unset the alarm to stop the damned beeping) and the main thing is, of course, that there was power when I went to have breakfast and coffee in the morning.