Numericable

Last week, finally, Numericable, our internet provider of choice, came and installed the wireless router. Luckily the Muslim woman, whose name I have now discovered to be Soraya, came home whilst the installation was taking place and was able to ask a few questions of the technician. We were under the impression that we would receive a cable that would stretch from my apartment, where the phone socket is located, to her apartment, enabling her to receive the additional television channels. This was not the case and, although the technician explained this was against their rules and that he would be unable to install such a cable, he had no qualms about telling us exactly what we needed to do in order to achieve the result we desired.

We set off that afternoon to Castorama which is, I suppose, the French equivalent of Homebase. We were in search of a cable which would connect to the wireless router one end and into the back of the satellite box they had provided at the other. We found the cable easily enough but then began an arduous window shopping extravaganza with Soraya who wanted to look at kitchens, bathrooms and curtain rails. It reminded me of being at home and embarking upon a Sunday morning trip to Homebase with Mum in search of paint samples or shower doors. Once we had finally finished at Castorama we journeyed home and began the laborious task of running the cable between the apartments.

Since there was not an inch of space under either door and Soraya wanted the wire to be as inconspicuous as possible in order to avoid angering the ‘proprietor’, the only option was to drill a small hole through to top of my door frame and feed the cable through. Soraya produced an ancient, green Bosch drill which I looked at dubiously before reluctantly attempting to drill through the wall. I had only a plastic fold away chair to stand on and this provided very little support and almost flipped over every time I tried to exert a little more pressure on the drill. Trying to block out my Gran’s reaction if she could have seen me drilling blindly through a wall that no doubt contained all manner of live electric cables with a drill that was continually sparking in my hands I made a little headway. However, it was thirsty work and it transpired that, after having misjudged the hole on each side a couple of times, the current drill bit simply wasn’t long enough. We went in search of another and eventually managed to locate a longer one which, ultimately, allowed me to drill through the wall completely in one smooth motion. For the duration of this process Soraya was comfortably installed in my apartment for some reason and was making herself at home examining my hair gel and vitamin pills as though they were valuable antiques.

In an attempt to make the wire as inconspicuous as possible we began an arduous process of wrapping it painstakingly around the various wires and pipes that already ran across the ceiling of the hallway. These were black with grime and my hands were soon filthy. Eventually it reached Soraya’s door where I had to drill another hole before feeding the cable through and connecting it to the set top box. After a couple of false starts we successfully installed the new television channels and Soraya was thrilled. She offered me a drink of some revolting supermarket own brand cola light which I didn’t want but accepted eventually after having it virtually poured down my throat. When I did take a sip, either as a result of all the dust that I had swallowed or because I took too big a gulp, it went down entirely the wrong way and I proceeded to have a choking fit which lasted for at least five minutes.