How wonderful to have the perfect excuse to bathe surrounded by lots of candles. Getting dressed by torchlight, and going to the loo by feel alone, these are maybe the less romantic side of having a blown fuse. The fuses I bought were, of course, the wrong size. Goes without saying. And nobody, but nobody, except an obscure little electric store hidden away in Newport stocks ones of the correct size.
“You’d do better with a MCB” I’m told. What? Bulldoze the whole bungalow and start again? Ah, not a JCB, a Mini Circuit Breaker. Right. But our local hardware shop doesn’t stock them so I drive to obscure little electric store anyway. No, they don’t stock that type, so send me down the road to dauntingly “trade” suppliers who take one look, shake their heads and say “Sorry, your fuse box is obsolete. You’re going to need a completely new fuse box”. Bidding a hasty retreat, I return to obscure little electric store and buy a pack of fuses.
But now, we have light! Yippeeeeee!