Back in tellyland

As the day went by I began to wonder if I should call my satellite installation contact and see when I might expect the service call I'd arranged on Saturday. The vibes must have carried over the airwaves, because that's when Darren-the-service-guy phoned, to say he was in the neighbourhood and would be round in about thirty minutes.

He was as good as his word. By the time he rang the door bell he'd already assessed the situation from the ground and was able to tell me that the dish's support bracket must have snapped off due to rust. Twenty minutes later he was back down from the roof, confirming his diagnosis and producing the broken bracket as evidence. He said he'd 'never seen anything like it except right beside the coast'. The boss, who's away on holiday, had warned me that there's a 75-euro call-out charge, and that's what the damage was.

It was reassuring to have a picture back again, though somewhat cynically I bemoaned the fact that there was nothing worth watching. Despite that the black-out rectangle of the screen kept on making me aware of it out of the corner of my eye. I gave in eventually, checked the schedule, and decided to while away a couple of hours and watch Nicholas Cage in National Treasure, which turned out to be an enjoyable adventure yarn. The TV's switched off again now.