Personal

Hometime

How do you get geeks to go home?

You trip the power.

Watching my computer take a dive at seven this evening was a signal to leave. I headed outside where dozens of other frustrated late-night workers were stumbling out of their cocoons and into the night.

Every time there's a power cut my mind flashes back to an uncomfortable experience in London. Enough time's passed since then for me to share it with you now.

I was in Borders on Oxford Street. Taking a leek. Standing at the urinals. Without a moment's notice, the room turned pitch black. The lights had gone and there were no windows. I tidied myself up and tried to remember: where is the door? Is there anyone else in the room? (The last thing you want to do in that situation is bump into the next guy if he's not finished his business.) It's hard to convey the rush of thoughts that flashed through my mind at that instant.

There was more than the usual sense of relief as I stepped into the main shop. My eyes still worked, and the world was still there. I smiled, and other shoppers wondered why a bunch of blokes were leaving the bog together in such a good mood.

A note to the mischievous: as I passed the door I noticed the light-switch. No-one would tell if you accidentally tripped it. (But you should know that I always map out my exit when I enter windowless rooms now.)