Not that I hate anybody, really, but I've come close this week. I haven't had an internet connection since Monday, and the one I have now sparked into life for 10 minutes this morning but was then dead until half an hour ago.

This is the second major breakdown in three months. Could it have anything to do with them offering free broadband to Orange phone users? I’ve had long conversations with very polite young gentlemen in India, who read from a script and cannot diverge from it.

The conversation, down a waivery line, goes like this:

“Hello my name is Raj and how can I help you today?”

“Hi, my Orange broadband isn’t working, I cant get online.

“Ok what you are telling me is your Orange broadband is not working and you cannot get online. “

“Yes”

“Let me just confirm sir with you that the problem that you are facing today is that your Orange broadband is not working and you cannot get online.

“Yes, like I said”

“Ok, and is there anything else I can help you with today.”

“No, Id just like you to get me online.”

This script that poor old Raj has to follow takes about 30 minutes to get through, and its clearly pointless after the first time because you know that there is a problem with Orange and they cant get you the web access you need. But they still make you unplug everything, check everything, replug it, enter passwords and user names (which they know but I really don’t, so clearly any of them could romp around under my login if they ever felt like it

So, for the third – or is it the fourth time - I’ve unplugged, rebooted, re-entered passwords, and done all they asked me to, knowing – after the first couple of attempts – that this was all fruitless. In the end they always tell you there is a problem with your exchange.

So, on to BT.

Is there a problem with my exchange? They check the line. No problem at all, infact, I’m close to an exchange and should have a fantastic connection.

Last time I said to Raj, or his brother, that this wasn’t true, that the problem was with Orange. He repeated: “No sir what I am telling you is there is a fault at your exchange.

I told him that I knew he had to stick to a script but we both knew that wasn’t true. Raj remained diplomatically silent.

He said they would do a long check on my line – they’d done a short check (meaningless jargon) and if I could phone back after two hours to check.

Could they phone me? No sir they could not phone me. When I try to phone back there is a message saying they know lots of us are having problems and that they are working “right this minute” to sort things out. But next morning there is still no connection. This time after Raj’s cousin has gone through the pantomime with me, they say ring back if it’s not working in two days. And then, miraculously, tonight I get a connection.

But it’s too late. I’ve called BT and will switch to them just as soon as Orange cough up a migration code. Which could take 10 days.

Now they’ve lost me they just don’t care - don't care about the money I’ve lost, the business that I can’t operate.

So, yes, I really do hate my ISP. Don’t we all? Anyone got any idea what I can do about it? How can I get back from them the thousands of pounds in lost business that their repeated failures have cost me?

The future’s bright, but it’s not Orange

The mulberry gin is made. During the week we took a cheapo day trip to France for gin at Euros7 for 1.5 litres. As ever, finding a recipe was the difficult bit. The mulberries have been sitting patiently in the fridge since I picked them from our tree in August; so full of rich juice that they don’t seem to freeze exactly, more turn to frosted rubies in their bags.

Last time I made it I found a recipe for sloe gin on the net, and adapted it by reducing the sugar – reasoning that mulberries are a whole lot sweeter than sloes.

This time I found a recipe someone had posted for raspberry gin. That recommended using equal weights of fruit and sugar – a pound of each to every bottle of gin. That seemed to me to be two sweet by far, so I’ve halved the sugar. I mixed four bottles of gin with four pounds of fruit and two pounds of sugar, which filled a gallon demijohn perfectly.

So now the demijohn of soon-to-be mulberry gin sits on the piano. Last night, freshly made, there was a layer of undisolved sugar like a sandy sea-bed, but this morning its down from an inch thick to a centimetre, so things seem to be working.

The trip to France was so painless we kept asking ourselves why we don’t do this four times a year. First thing in the morning the Eurotunnel terminal was deserted. We stuck a credit card in the slot of an unmanned kiosk and we were through – no passport checks, no customs, just straight on to a train and away in about three minutes.

What a good job we weren’t terrorists. There were checks on the way back, so maybe the passage of undesirables is one-way only.

The thing about France is that even the bog-standard supermarket we ambled down to on the outskirts of Boulogne was head and shoulders above anything in Britain. And just about everything is at least a third cheaper than here – wine half the price or less. So why is Tesco so smug? A Leclerq or an Auchan would clean up in London.

Everything looks so much nicer too – fantastic displays of fish and great bags of mussels and king prawns. The miles of cheese you expect, but even the ordinary veg looks lovely. Leeks cleaned and tied in red ribbon then wrapped in cellophane. The nets of garlic give you 10 bulbs for little more than £1, and they can be £1 each in London.

As we had so much I’ve planted the cloves from three bulbs in the garden. I gave up on garlic last year because it just didn’t grow terribly well, but I’m giving it one last try. If you can grow it, it’s wonderful: fresher and stronger tasting than the shop-bought stuff, and it lasts for months without sprouting. I’ve just had to throw away bulbs bought in Waitrose only a couple of weeks ago.

Watch out UK supermarkets, you aren’t nearly as good as you think you are.

The freezer came into its own in another way this week. The garden tomatoes – wonderful sweet Lilliput that we had a glut of throughout August and September – also have a shelf to themselves, and I thought it was about time we used some incase they deteriorate. So a big bag went into a ratatouille, together with red peppers and aubergines from our France trip.

Bearing in mind I just froze them whole – no blanching, no peeling or turning to passata - I wasn’t sure how they’d taste. Infact they were as sweet and sharp and fresh as if they had just been picked.

The other great thing about France is you can turn up, as we did, in the old city of Boulogne – or indeed anywhere else – wander around and find a simple, cheap restaurant full of locals and get a four course lunch for Euros15.

It was Toussaint, All Saints Day, and as the city’s cathedral was across the road we went in after lunch and lit a candle.

And we are still feasting on the food we brought back. Last night we had Toulouse sausage with the ratatouille, the night before moule frit, today it’ll be pasta carbonnara with some of the ham and cheese. And then, maybe a prawn frittata tomorrow, or a casserole with some of the other sausage and a salami.

And still the mulberry gin to look forward to. It’ll be drunk at Christmas – and so will I.