“My electrician and chief builder was Henry. He was 62, had lived in the tunnel for five years and knew one or two things about getting by on the town’s supply. With no apparent regard for the dangers of massive voltage, he prised open a large silver box which ticked sinisterly and set about splicing our cable into the two-inch wires that lay within. Sparks flew everywhere. Henry didn’t flinch. We had tapped into the city’s power.”
