@#&&*#*!

This was a day when I wished I either had a clone, or at least a companion with opposable thumbs (sorry Bean, you don’t cut it).

I paced myself by going to town for some essential and unrushed shopping (mostly dog food), then planned an afternoon on the sofa with my book. It was as much as my slightly tender body could contemplate.

However… (you knew that was coming didn’t you?)…

After washing my hands in the bathroom I heard water flowing outside beneath the truck. Oh no.

There’s only one explanation: the stupid drain was blocked and overflowing. I went outside and confirmed the diagnosis.

I really wanted to ignore it, to pick up my book and settle down in the sun on the sofa and pretend the drain was fine. It could wait until tomorrow couldn’t it?

It really couldn’t. It is a headache this drain. 

It takes the waste water from the kitchen sink, shower and bathroom basin 50 metres across the lawn and under some trees to deposit it in what I call the swamp, where a willow, a swamp oak and masses of mint gratefully soak it up.

The people who converted the truck did the plumbing, and made a hash of it. The drain has a very small diameter and a very gradual fall, with corners for additional fun.

As soon as I hear water glugging in the sump which feeds into the drain it is time to clear whatever is starting to block it. But I was caught napping this time. No warning glugs.

There was nothing for it but to remove as many clothes as politely possible, don some gardening gloves and wrangle a hose down the drain from the top and see if I could shift whatever was clogging it up. No joy. No blockage there.

The next step was to open up a brick-lined hole half way down the garden, within which is a joint in the drain pipe. I created this handy access four years ago when it first went wrong. It was clear when I unscrewed the joint that the blockage was below that point….I was deluged in stinking mucky water from the upstream pipe. 

I shoved the hose pipe down the lower part of the drain and after about 15 metres it hit an immovable object, very close to the outlet above the swamp.

So down there I trundled, with the ever-growing hose (one extension after another) to shove it up from the bottom. And I hit the blockage about 5 metres in.

Then it was a case of turning on the tap and trying to blast the block out. It took an hour to shift it, by which time I was cursing loudly, stomping, sighing deeply and totally pissed off. I had to keep going…I need the drain to do its job. 

I was so bushed that I wasn’t in the slightest jubilant when I finally broke through and the water flushed out several chunks of coagulated soap. Yes. Soap.

I’m grateful it wasn’t fat.

I hate using chemicals Chez Mima, but this episode has persuaded me to buy a bottle of drain cleaner. A friend found me wilting after the effort and he’s written down a brand which won’t harm the plants in the swamp. I’ll be buying it next week and using it regularly to avoid any more of this messing about.

It didn’t cross my mind to take a Blip of the action, so here is the hose cleaned and hung up again when the drama was over and just after I’d had a cleansing shower. Much needed.

Can you see the watcher? Hoping for attention and food :-) She received both.

Tomorrow will be quieter. I hope.

Zzzzzzz….