Flip through the latest issue of Gulf Weekly.
First came fearful screams, panic and the children shouting ‘Muuuuuuum where are you?’ and, for a split second, I savoured the moment of feeling needed amidst the hysteria in our villa.
It’s not often terrified teenagers hang on to you and listen to your each and every word. I can’t remember the last time I had such a captive audience.
The spell, however, was broken as soon as I uttered the words ‘power cut’ and my little darlings’ fear morphed into euphoria and organised chaos.
My little blighters located their AirBoards, no problem in the pitch dark, and were quickly zooming from room to room with only the flashing lights of the wheels to guide them!
Meanwhile, I was barking orders, which, as usual, were being ignored. The husband had disappeared having set off to investigate the cause of our dilemma … would he ever return?
Abandoned by all but the dog, I fumbled my way through to the storeroom and gathered up my emergency box of torches and candles.
Quickly, I had our home aglow, windows and doors were thrown open to welcome in the cool evening air.
I tried calmly to forget about the enormous amount of food I had stockpiled in all three of our refrigerators only that morning, not to mention the husband’s huge ice-cream birthday cake I had decided to create the day before!
As all mothers know, hunger brings the flock back to the fold and luckily I cook with gas.
As we sat down to our romantic candlelit dinner, we found the conversation filled with our own childhood tales of the excitement of power-cuts during the 1970s back in the UK, the smell of paraffin heaters and lamps – the good old days, before the internet, social media and handheld devices.
When suddenly the power returned …
