I feel duty bound to continue - perhaps even end - the saga. Be warned: this chapter ends with me compiling a shopping list containing only three items:
- One stout rope
- One hook, suitable for fixing in a plasterboard ceiling
- One small stool
A picture tells a thousand words, which you wouldn't want to bother reading anyway:
Mulled over what else I could do. Les is keen on putting a repeater down near the front door, I'm not because they inherently degrade performance and would rather run some cables around. But I'm resigned to that being the end of Ofcom's sterling efforts, because Les can't keep coming back to my house every three weeks.
Then, just as Les is packing up, I see a spike on the download graph. A bead of sweat breaks out on my furrowed brow, as Les as and I pore over the Spectrum Analyser again... Nothing. It was just a blip.
Which of course it wasn't. As soon as I'd shaken Les' hand, thanked him for his efforts and waved him off, I returned to the kitchen and found I had no internet. See above, it's too painful to recount the following hour. Another five minutes here and he'd have picked it up. FIVE SODDING MINUTES.