For the last ten years I’ve been popping into the local Virgin media shop every few months and asking/pleading for them to cable my house. And every time they’ve said no.
My current service provider gives me about 40Mb broadband, which sounds good, and would be were there not fifty trillion children living in my general area. All of which means, that come the end of school, or at any time over the weekend I’m down to dial up speed and that’s despite having fibre broadband.
Fifteen years ago I thought a 14. 4 dial up speed was pretty good. It only took me three hours to download Netscape Navigator (that’s an old browser) and a measly six hours to download an 8 bit game which kept me amused for almost a week. But as soon as broadband came along my life was complete.
That was before I moved into current house which is as far as it can physically be from the farthest node, which in turn is as far as is physically able to be from the farthest exchange.
So you can imagine my thrill(ment) today when I returned from work to find an enormous great trench down my street and twenty men with enormous drills making it even wider and deeper as I watched. Could it be, I mused before rushing upstairs and waiting to find Virgin media on my clockwork speed internet connection. Then armed with their number I finally spoke to them.
“Yes,” the man said. “We are indeed cabling your street.” My paroxysms of joy almost caused me to drop the phone into my mug of cold tea. “And,” he continued happly, “in less than eighteen months we can wire you up.”
18 months? I just turned sixty. I might be dead by then!!!!!