My Life on a Plate

Drained

I wonder what sort of weekend you've all had? Mine's been rather 'bog' orientated to say the least; not something I craved during a cold and rainy February.

It seemed to lead on from my Friday bog cleaning session. My dad had a cataract removed last week so I thought I'd pop up to my parent's house in the afternoon to see how he was getting on and if they needed anything doing. Didn't plan on staying long. Note to self - never make plans.

On arrival I discovered they were in turmoil because their downstairs loo was blocked. Dad couldn't see to phone the water authorities and mum would forget what she was supposed to be telling them after a few minutes. Dearest daughter to the rescue - 'Leave it to me, I'll get it sorted.' Famous last words.

I phoned the local water authority and waited fifteen minutes on hold listening to some crummy, repetitive music. At least if you're going to keep someone waiting that long, please have the decency to play something appealing - maybe Handl's water music would be appropriate.

Eventually a REAL person took all the details, then informed me they needed to know if the neighbours' drains were blocked too and the date the property was built. Well, how the hell do I know? I asked her how to find out that information and she suggested phoning the local council offices.

So, off I set to ask the neighbours both sides about their drains. Nope, no blockages there. Phoned the council who said they could NOT inform me of the date of the property and to check the deeds on the house. They happen to be at my parent's solicitors. Get out the phone book, phone the solicitors and eventually find out the information required.

Phoned the water authorities again, another 15 minutes listening to same crummy, repetitive music and am then informed, after relaying all the information again that because the problem was not affecting the neighbours it was not their responsibility. I pointed out my parents are both in their eighties, my dad has just had an operation and it wasn't easy or safe for them to have to keep going upstairs. Anyway, what would happen if it was their ONLY loo? The lady showed a little sympathy and promised someone would investigate within 48 hours.

By five o' clock on Saturday no one had arrived and I was getting a little concerned. I phoned again, listened to the same old tune for 15 minutes (you'd think they'd change the record ocassionally wouldn't you?) and was then informed it was definitely NOT their problem and we'd need to find a plumber. Well, thank you very much.

So, spent the evening on the phone searching for a plumber willing to come out on a Sunday. This morning saw us in pouring rain, standing in my parent's garden holding a hose to the drain while the plumber unblocked the loo. Eureka! The bog now works but it may take my dad some time to recover from the shock of paying the bill.

So, that's another weekend down the drain. One full of sewage or effluent, whichever you prefer. Both horrible words aren't they Forever, but not as bad as the much shorter one I was originally going to type.

Sorry this entry's been a load of s***. lol And I just realised it's my 300th entry. What a choice of subject for such a momentous occasion.