In a dark, dark street there was...

How irritating; I was sitting in bed, already to write a blog, and then do a bit of reading before inevitably having to sleep, but at the same time I opened my laptop, we got a power cut. Humph.

Mind you, I've always loved power cuts, and I'm not entirely sure why, since they generally get in the way of something that I'm doing at the time. Personally, a power cut brings about the same excitement as seeing a bit of snow in the air, an experience I've always felt so compelled to share with anyone around me at the time, no matter how obvious it is to them (does anyone greet snowfall with quiet indifference? I hope not. ).

A slightly odd experience when everyone's in bed, and therefore, no one else cares. It really felt like something I ought to tell someone. But nah. I just lay there restless (slightly irritated by the fact that while I know there are three candles next to me, there's not a chance I'd manage to find my lighter), and think about the bit where Bilbo wakes up in a pitch black room, and wonders whether he'd even opened his eyes at all. I try fooling my brain into thinking my eyes are shut. It didn't work in case you were wondering.

Of course, silly me, I forgot to actually switch off the lights, so half an hour later, the lights all pop back on, and well, should I continue with my intentions of blogging? Well, why not?

Why not? As Davus has pointed out, I should probably have someone around to answer that question at all times... I think my relationship with this question shall be the subject of my next post since I never managed to get around to it this time...