Thousands of Illawarra residents were without power after a massive thunderstorm swept through the region. Photo: wirestock.
The magnificent power of Wednesday night’s storm took away one thing we don’t realise how much we rely on until we don’t have it – electricity.
Like thousands of other Illawarra residents, we lost power mid-storm.
We’d settled in front of the telly, about to enjoy season 12 of Death in Paradise (yes, we’ve also started the “Thirroul version”) when the lights went out.
It happens so rarely that we sat there for a minute expecting the lights to switch back on. But after a few sad flickers, nothing.
I hit the button on the electric recliner – oops, that won’t work – and switched on the phone torch.
This was one time the husband couldn’t complain about the dozens of (usually) decorative candles I have around the place and soon we were bathed in comforting candlelight.
We peered through the rain to check on our 82-year-old neighbour, who also had the mobile torch going, while the 94-year-old neighbour was also OK, with three torches close at hand – he doesn’t trust candles.
As one does, I posted on social media that we had no power – I don’t know why I felt the need to share as it was quite clear the storm battering the whole region was to blame. Maybe it was a way of reaching out in the dark and sense of isolation.
Luckily my phone and ipad were charged so I was quite happy to continue reading (on the ipad) while I kept track of the rain radar and where else was copping it (on my phone).
The husband started watching some show on his phone but turned it off soon after “just in case the battery runs out”.
Of course that meant he couldn’t just sit there doing nothing. I ignored his suggestion of sitting in the candlelight holding hands, so we found trivia questions on the internet to pass the time.
In the scheme of things and compared to what the residents of Los Angeles are going through, and what too many Aussies have sadly gone through in our own bushfires, a few hours without power is really nothing to most people.
We mused about blackouts in the modern era as opposed to pre-technology. Are we better off today with torches a standard accessory in our phones and instant access to weather warnings and alerts? Or are we just too dependent on electricity and technology to cope in an emergency situation?
Mobile phones are great while they’re charged but they eventually need power to recharge. The good old landline never ran out of charge, although storms often cut the connection.
How many of us have a battery-powered radio (and batteries) in case of emergency and does the younger generation even know they exist? Or where to buy one? (Hint: Temu has them for less than $10, but even Temu can’t deliver instantly so you need to think ahead.)
We’d well and truly finished our dinner so didn’t have to worry about working out how to cook without the luxury of an electric stove or microwave. The brother-in-law in Coonabarabran was caught out but at least he has a new barbecue, though he was struggling to come to grips with how he was going to cook his mashed potatoes. It’s an age thing.
The husband was a tad concerned that an extended blackout would mean he couldn’t charge his hearing aid. Then he decided if that meant he couldn’t hear me then he could probably live with that.
The kittens were at first a bit fazed by the booming thunder but soon realised the humans were there to protect them and resumed normal operations – galloping from the front door, leaping out of the darkness onto my stomach to jump over the lounge and repeat.
It’s bad enough when you can see them coming but when it’s a black ninja coming at you out of the dark it’s scarier than the storm. So they were put to bed.
With no sign the power was coming back on any time – Endeavour Energy was guesstimating it might be about 4 am – we figured we might as well hit the sack.
Pre-technology we didn’t have the ability to know if the blackout affected more neighbourhoods than just ours, nor how long we’d be without power. But in those days we’d just accept it would be a while and there was nothing to be done about it.
It was then I realised I was about to face my greatest fear – trying to sleep without the calming effects of a ceiling fan. In my world, that’s almost catastrophic.
You see, I have the fan on every night of the year – yep, all 365 days, all the way through winter.
Admittedly it doesn’t enthral the husband. His electric blanket is cranked up as high as it can go plus he gets my layer of unwanted doona. He complains about sleeping in Arctic conditions while I have to control the urge to turn up the fan.
I put my fan addiction down to the few years we lived in stinking hot Darwin where ceiling fans were standard in every place we lived.
I haven’t always had the luxury of ceiling fans since then, but there’s always been at least a pedestal fan at the foot of my bed. These days the fan is definitely needed to help cool my inner oven, but I concede that the white noise has become a necessary part of my sleeping habits.
Over the decades the husband has accepted that a cool wife is a happy wife and he too has learned to live with it (although having both the air conditioner and fan on is pushing the friendship).
But no power means no fan and boy, was I feeling the heat. Rain was lashing the bedroom window so that option was out.
Half a sleeping tablet and a cool shower later, I was mentally preparing myself when inspiration hit. Among the wonderful gifts delivered by Secret Santa was a handheld, three-speed fan – and it had a stand. Saved by Secret Santa!
With it propped up about 10 cm from my nose, I could feel myself happily drifting off.
That was, until I remembered, it too needed power to recharge. Bloody technology.
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