Down to the murdery cellar to collect my washing and I was confronted with profound, Hollywood horror-style darkness. My first thought, as I was feeling my way down the stairs, was go back up the stairs. I've seen those films, I know what happens! Fighting the instinctive certain knowledge that there was a murderer in the murdery cellar, I went back up for my wind-up torch. This isn't a torch that likes to take the piss, it is a genuine wind-up torch.
Back to the cellar, holding the torch high like they do in CSI and stuff.
The lights in the hall weren't working either, so my logical brain was telling me that something had tripped a circuit. Or that the murderer had.
In the cellar are all the electricity meters for all the flats, a whole bank of them on the wall, plus two other switchy box things underneath. I isolated the one that had tripped and flipped it back. Light! Washing Machine! Tumble-dryer! Thwarted murderer!
All is well again, and I am proud of myself for my problem-solving skills in the face of certain death.