Power Complex

It's almost 11 o'clock in the morning here and I have electricity. For the last three days a neighbour's generator has run our fridge and a night-light for the boys but other than that we have had no power since about 2am on Saturday when Ike was approaching the most terrifying point in his rampage.

This is not going to be a long note - there are still over a million Houstonians without power and some of them don't even have houses any more. Many are still reliant on the city for handouts of emergency food and ice and petrol stations are still beset by queues. But I did want to let you know that things are getting back to normal for us at least.

We have not been uncomfortable this week - we have been royally looked after by Caroline and having a fridge also made a massive difference - but sitting in the dark, with no real idea whether the power will come back on tomorrow or in a fortnight's time, is the sort of experience which gnaws away at you day after day, or rather night after night. I admit that I was developing a complex of sorts - with every day that went past, it got a little harder to grit one's teeth and get on with it, a little harder to find a bright side by candle-light.

This morning, with the boys distracted by something soothingly quiet, I suddenly realised that an unfamiliar noise had been buzzing about me for several minutes. I looked up to see the ceiling fan rotating gently - but what? That would mean... I whirled about to see a standby light gleaming on the television. Once again neighbours poured out of their houses, this time giving each other cheery waves and slightly manic grins. My neighbour and I conferred and agreed it was probably safe to switch off the generator. We, at least, were properly back in the fold of civilisation. Until next time anyway.

* * *

Yesterday I took the boys to the supermarket. I rang ahead to make sure it was open and the woman on the other end of the phone seemed aggrieved that I had felt the need to check. Of course they were open!

The car park was nearly empty when we got there and inside it was like a listing ship. The near end and the checkouts were lit, but the far end was in total darkness, making it feel as if the whole thing was wallowing at an angle. The fridges and freezers were empty of course and the fruit and vegetable section and the bakery were fenced off. But everything else was there, albeit in shadows.

Reverently, we paced up and down, wading in to the darkness, checking the nutritional information of a can of soup by the tinny glare of my mobile phone. The staff were there in force, some with torches, all helpful and dedicated. It was at once both a chastening and an encouraging experience.

Things in our part of town are beginning to feel normal again. The traffic lights are still out which makes driving a fraught experience once again but everything else is coming together. Hopefully school will re-open next week.

For some people the wait for normal things - like turning on a light against the darkness - will be much longer.