Heart of darkness

A mild panic is beginning to surge in my inner being. There is a power cut. What? A power cut? In Switzerland? The land where civic affrontery is felt if a train is 30 seconds late?
Indeed-y, deed, deedy.
It is a winter afternoon. Darkness approaches. If I make spelling mistakes, it's because I can't see the keyboard. (Nice excuse, anyway.) Hurrah for laptops and their batteries.
I knocked on the door of the concierge and met his teenage son. "L'electicite ne fonctionne pas!" I wobbled, brightly.
"Mumble mumble mumble" said the teenage boy.
With Rob in England, Emma's food about to defrost and changing nappies by candlelight a possibility, it seems I will have to phone the gruyere-for-brains geronce myself.
A toute a l'heure.