Time to give you *life* and it seems unfair that Gloucestershire should have all the plumbing drama, we had a moment of our own today and you will reel at your good fortune that I am sharing this exciting event with you all.
"The bath water's a funny colour".
Our water is pumped up about 120ft from a bore hole, it is the purest,
clearest water you could ever wish for and normally sparkling.
There's a method to achieving DIY results in this house and this is the first step taken about two weeks ago. You already know it means there are dead things in the storage tank in the loft that feeds the hot water supply,admittedly not our drinking supply so this does not engender a sense of urgency in anyone here.
About a week later...
"There are bits of fly floating around in the bath water"
This doesn't move anyone either, what's a bit of dead bluebottle, give us at least a bat wing.
Then you say NO MORE, not another word.
Eventually, and it was this morning, the bookhound leapt into action and made the perilous loft ascent.It involves a precarious ladder over an open staircase.
"Guess what? You were right"
So we proceed to apply the elementary laws of physics and set up the garden hosepipe syphon system to drain down the tank. I was managing the garden end and here's how right I was as we reached the dregs.Probably a well-stewed broth of Devonian insect life.
What is now self-evident is that the shower head, which had slowed down noticeably in recent weeks is probably also blocked with debris of dead fly body parts and we have all doubtless been washing in dilute fly detritus for ages.Ah well rural dwelling in all its glory and with apologies to anyone who has been to stay with us recently.
But never let it be said that DCI Simon Serrailler is the only lovely plumber in the world.
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