The Day the World Ended

I was in the kitchen yesterday morning, listening to the contented chatter of  my guests  in the dining room, "where are you from?", "where are you going?" "isn't this absolutely without doubt the best bed and breakfast you've ever been to and isn't Jan beautiful?  (OK, OK.  I made that part up) when suddenly there was an eerie silence.  I hesitated to go in, fearing something other than a blueberry in the pancakes or a repetition of the day a chipmunk decided to join the throng.  Gathering my best defensive smile, I entered the room to find that the wi fi signal had disappeared leaving everyone staring at little devices in their hands, mournful  faces suddenly alone in the world with no news, no email, no directions telling them how to get out of my driveway.  Quelle horreur! I apologised , vowed immediate action, and strode to my computer and ...emailed my cousin.  He does something for a living which involves a computer.  I have no idea what it is.  But it has nothing whatever to do with repairing the things.  He is, however, always and cheerfully at my disposal to answer any question I happen to have regarding these machines simply based on our mothers having been sisters.  Anyhow, he gave me the advice he always gives me which is to unplug the offending bit, wait thirty seconds and plug it back in.  I could do this without calling him, but I never do.  I like being told.  This time, just to add a wallop to the advice, as I had been particularly whiney and pathetic about 'all these people paying good money and I promise free wi-fi, blah blah blah" he included an incantation.  I am far too genteel to repeat it here but to give the gist it went#%^@  #%^@ ety#%^# !!!  It worked.  There was  much cheering and  hooraying in the dining room before silence fell again while each caught up on the missing  15 minutes of their life outside Blue Skye Farm and  went back to showing people pictures of their cat on their telephone.