Heavenly Beverley : (It's So Funny How) We Don't Talk Anymore...

This morning has been a return trip to Dante's Inferno. What was worse was that the increasingly complicated and incomprehensible ride was totally unexpected.

I blame smugness. Whenever I have that gleeful, satisfied feeling of a job well done, somebody conspires to wreck that pleasant sensation and thrust me back into the insane asylum.

What's worse is that usually there is no way to prepare ourselves for the next unmitigated disaster. The last five months have taught us that utilities are a law unto themselves, that there is absolutely no communication between any of them in shared cases (like supplying water and power to a new house)and that there is a Cone of Silence existing between agencies that offer separate arms of the same service. Even installers or suppliers have caused us grief. Give me strength.

We have felt like hungry sparrows waiting to be given the next crumb by a benevolent bird-lover. Except there is no benevolence. There is only added stress and disbelief that just as we were confident in the process, another spanner has been chucked into the works.

Yesterday, our Date with Destiny was confirmed. Western Power is connecting us to the electricity grid on Saturday. Hooray. One stipulation was that an electrical contractor had to be on site to carry out energisation (what a fabulous word) from the green dome to our house. We stupidly assumed we could use our local contractor to finish this job and link us to the fantastic concept of single phase power. Alas, no.

The electrical contractors who wired the house are the Chosen Ones. We discovered this fact after a series of increasingly surreal phonecalls. We certainly hadn't been given that information at the time the wiring. So, we set about organising them to be on site this Saturday at the same time as Western Power.

Except the electrical company doesn't normally work Saturdays. They would for $1000, which naturally, we don't have. Back to Western Power to ascertain whether the two service groups were able to work independently of each other.

Yes, They Can! Eureka. So, Western Power will honour us with their presence on Saturday and the other mob on Monday morning. After teetering on the brink of another nervous breakdown, we foolishly congratulated ourselves on averting another potential catastrophe.

Surely, there could be no further obstacles. Surely, there could be no more UXBs waiting to ambush us. Oh, such optimism.

Then, Synergy - the energy billing arm - rang Michael. Before they could issue us with an electricity account, they needed the titles of our properties. Michael tried to explain that we were in the process of receiving new lot numbers and that we wouldn't be issued our new lot numbers until we had completed certain conditions - like the provision of power to our house. On the very edge of what was left of his sanity, Michael patiently tried to clear up any misunderstanding with our heroine from Synergy. After a very long fifteen minutes of verbal table tennis, Michael achieved the Breakthrough. Synergy would use our old street address (which only they have as Lot 420 Railway Parade) until we are issued with our new titles.

After four hours of this madness, we are now thoroughly exhausted. Any thoughts of travelling to the Big Smoke this afternoon have been shelved.

We had just eaten two outrageously fattening pies from our local bakery for lunch. I predict the rest of the day will be spent having a Bex, a cup of tea and a decent lie-down.

Introducing the Three Amigos -