Happily Ever After
Life in The Rural Retreat with a beautiful wife, three cats, garden wildlife, a camera, a computer – and increasing amounts about running
Earlier posts can be found on Adventures of a Lone Bass Player, where this blog began life. Recent entries can be found here.
Plumbing The Depths
by admin - 20:53 on 11 December 2010
In all the years I've lived in The Rural Retreat (and, according to Matchgirl, for several before that) the bathtub's only practical use has been as a receptacle for the shower, such is the dearth of hot water provided by our antiquated plumbing.
However, now that our shower no longer functions, this morning I was forced to perform my ablutions in a few inches of tepid bathwater. Matchgirl sneaked off to the gym.
But circumstances can always get worse.
Waking the bath's hot tap from its years of slumber was too much of a shock – this afternoon it developed a drip which turned into a trickle, then a torrent, as an ancient washer gave up the ghost. The stop-cock was brought into play, cutting the Retreat's running water entirely.
Matchgirl, who possesses many DIY manuals, got to work with spanner, screwdriver and long-handled adjustable wrench (purchased this afternoon especially for the job) to prise apart the offending tap and extract the offending washer.
A search of her washer drawer confirmed her fear that no replacement was handy; a fruitless trip to an Inverness bathroom emporium confirmed her second fear that the tap is so old-fashioned that appropriate washers are no longer made. The emporium assistant took pity on her and gave her a selection of modern ones for free.
Back at the Retreat she tried several times (with a Strictly Come Dancing break) to make different washers fit. Much banging and swearing ensued. I know what's good for me so I stayed downstairs, made our dinner, and resisted the temptation to offer advice or sympathy that would only provoke more growling.
She tried mightily, but failed. So now the Retreat has instant running water when the stop-cock is turned on and none at all when it's off. Which is a nuisance. The emergency bottled water (best before 2007) left by the authorities during a long-ago failure of supply has been brought from the outhouse; the bathtub is half-filled and a bucket kept handy for toilet-flushing purposes.
It could be worse. At least we don't have to walk a mile in blazing sun to a polluted stream with buckets on our heads.
Matchgirl doesn't see it that way, of course, and had to be restrained from further dismantling the tap. If it couldn't be reassembled we'd not be able to turn the stop-cock on at all and would lose even part-time running water – of little consequence to the jet-setter who tomorrow leaves for Shetland, but a problem for those of us staying at home.
Our hopes now rest with Mr Fixit, who should be along on Thursday to replace the defunct shower. He might have a busy day.
Book Update: The three proud authors met this morning to review the fourth draft and agree the latest minor changes. These should be the last. We're almost there.
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