Narrow band
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I'm embarrassed to admit how much I've missed having broadband. Until this weekend, I was without it for all of seven weeks. By and large moving house has been a painless experience. There's been a lot to do but somehow it's all come together. There have been a few things, however, that have taken their time. Getting a proper internet connection is one of them.
The trouble with new build houses is that they're not connected to a telephone exchange. They have water, electricity and (often) gas, but a telephone line is not considered essential. If you want internet access, a telephone line is a must-have. You can get access via a ‘cable' network, as I have for years at my previous address, but if you're on a new build estate, there's a good chance that facility doesn't exist.
Seven weeks ago, I moved into a house with no phone line and, as such, no broadband. I thought I'd be okay. And initially I was. Granted, there were a few things I knew straight away that I wouldn't be able to do, but I figured I'd cope. For a few days, I did. I had things to do. Walls need painting. You don't need an internet connection for that. Furniture needs assembling. Barring any major disaster, you don't need an internet connection for that either. But when things like that are finished, and you have more free time, you long for a return to your normal routine. And as it turns out, my normal routine tends to require an internet connection.
I've not been entirely without internet access. I have access when I'm at work and my phone purports to have an occasional 3G connection courtesy of Orange. The latter is more fleeting. Having internet access through Orange 3G is a bit like having dinner through a sieve. If you're patient enough, you might get more or less what you need, but the experience won't be as satisfying as it could be and it's likely you'll save the best bits for another sitting.
A couple of weeks ago, a man came to the house to connect our phone line. He unscrewed a plastic facia on the wall in our hallway, tinkered with some wires and disappeared off down the street to do likewise at what he called 'an exchange', but I like to think of as 'the other end'. Shortly afterwards, he came back, put the facia back on and went on to no doubt do more of the same for someone else. Later on, we connected a phone and heard a dial tone. It was progress.
Last week a modem arrived. Soon after that we had an email and a text message to say I could connect it up. Seeing a wi-fi signal on my mobile and on my laptop this weekend was, I'm ashamed to admit, a joyous experience. The past two months have highlighted to me how reliant I have become on technology. I always swore to myself that I wouldn't let that happen and yet I feel that I have suffered for its absence and am relieved by its return. I feel there is, or should be, a condition for this. I may look it up on the internet.