For about 15 months I've been waiting to do some vital maintenance jobs on BIgnjuicy acres. These are the kind of jobs you can only do when there is fine weather. Until the last few days the combination of factors required has not occurred. Now, all factors are in synch:
1. Fine weather.
2. Continuous fine weather for more than one hour.
3. Continuous fine weather for more than one hour extending beyond one day.
4. Continuous fine weather for more than one hour extending beyond one day and I do not have to be anywhere else.
5. I can be arsed to do the vital maintenance jobs.
6. I have the money to buy the stuff to do the vital maintenance jobs.
So, with all six factors in synch I have been installing an external tap to facilitate irrigation of the Bignjuicy meadow and grazing pastures. (The willdebeest eat a lot of grass at this time of year and a watering can is no longer a feasible option). A 'simple DIY external tap for willdebeest irrigation kit' was purchased from a local good stockist. I lacerated my arm shearing through the polypropylene blister that the kit was entombed within. I drilled a massive hole in my wall and clamped the impossibly small fitting to my water pipe. I screwed it in and it started to hiss. Water began to spray out all over me and the floor. I tightened up the little plastic screw a bit more and the water stopped. After threading the curly hose through the massive hole, the tap was connected and I plugged in the yellow curly hosepipe (Â£34.99 from Homebase), the water gushed forth as a spring from the rock of Daniel (or something like that). The wildebeest frolicked. I was happy. I turned my thoughts to sewage.
Six months ago, when factor no 1 was in operation for less than the requisite duration for factor no 2 to pertain, I noticed a certain whiffiness emanating from a manhole not far from the tradesmen's entrance. Investigations revealed a corroded gasket. Not only that but the supporting flange for the gasket was also perforated in several spots. Jumping up and down on the manhole cover produced noxious vapours as little stinkjets perfumed the air. Flies hovered, the wildebeest nodded in olfactory familiarity. I determined that the flange was embedded in six inches of concrete which would need to be removed so that flange replacement could be effected. A replacement flange/cover combo was purchased from a local good stockist (the same one as previously) and I set about the concrete manfully with a cold chisel and lump hammer. Unfortunately it was impossible to obtain the necessary impact with the manhole cover in place and so the unpleasant task of opening it was performed. My past flashed before my eyes as I gazed down into the abyss. Momentarily a gush of effluent streamed into the inspection chamber. I realised, for the first time since taking up residence here many many moons ago that my chamber is a communal facility into which the facilities of my neighbours discharge. Let me tell you now, you will never look at your neighbours quite the same way again when you have seen their sewage; affluent they may be, but effluent they most definitely are. So, day three in the Bignjuicy house. drD has concreted his flange. After a resful night he awakes, descends the stairs to hear a hissing and splashing sound.
The kitchen is under three inches of water. A small jet is spraying out of a broken small plastic screw. Forgive me but my first word this morning was, "shit".