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Grace woke with a start – the shrill beep of the alarm clock function on her Smartphone rousing her from a particularly delicious dream featuring Ricardo, Mr Rochester’s personal chef. Grace was concerned about what her subconscious was doing, but decided to deal with it some other time.

Some much, much later other time.

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She picked up the bleeping electronic device and swept her fingers over the surface, silencing the incessant beeps. She looked at the top of the screen – one bar, which flickered intermittently! This was a disaster!

Grace sat up in bed and called up the Twitter app.

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It stubbornly refused to refresh, and Grace resigned herself to abandoning the warmth and comfort of the luxurious duvet. Sighing heavily she stood up, finding the B&B’s complimentary toweling gown, which she quickly wrapped around herself to retain some warmth.

She grimly moved around the room, holding the phone up frequently, moving it around her, above her head, down to the floor, desperate to