Tag Archives: Rivers

Water Water Everywhere, Plenty to Drink

IMG_9175Just to finish on the rain / damp / mud theme: Nowadays I abandon the car at the point where it turns 90 degrees in the mud lake and walk the rest of the way home. While doing that this evening I noticed three things. First, I have a hole in my right boot – didn’t notice that between April and September when I seemed to be living in a hot, dry country. Secondly, there are large paw prints in the mud inside the fenced property;  obviously I fervently hoped they belonged to a lynx but after close analysis have to conclude they belong to the neighbour’s labrador. And thirdly, I have a river, not a post-deluge drain-off, but a bona fide river complete with a rock riverbed, a series of small waterfalls and pools, and a mid-level rippling roar. There are frogs are croaking on the banks.
I’m fairly sure all this wasn’t there yesterday. The new river forms a clear lagoon, a knee-deep moat, where the gate should be.
Where it starts, I’m not sure. Perhaps I have a spring; I shall get sticks and go dowsing maybe.
The water in the house comes from a well which taps into an underground lake. I don’t winch it up in a pail, but have a complicated Heath Robinson type system of well pumps and pressure pumps and pipes and tubes which draw water and flakes of calcium up 100 metres and across a field into a water deposit, then on through a hi-tech decalcifying machine with an electronic display of bleeps and warnings which means nothing to me, onto thick pipes which constantly split, get split, disconnect at the joins, and then finally under the house and out through rather nice taps.
Currently though, most of the water coming into the house comes via the wide gaps under the doors or through the leaking roof, with some just soaking through the bathroom wall.
The jocular Ivan the builder came to assess the situation on Thursday, and chipped away at something, but nothing much can be done until it stops raining, and the chances of that happening anytime soon are remote. Never mind. The rainwater tastes better than the well water and there’s a seemingly unlimited supply, so I’ve been collecting it in buckets and pans (and actually, also the wheelbarrow), and putting on my boots to go out in the rain every time I need to fill the kettle. Modern life.


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