If you’ve seen any of my recent posts, you’ll know that the house has been a workman’s paradise.
Sophie has coped remarkably well with it all but I was worried that last week’s altercation may have drained all her energy…
Gettit? Read on and you will.
We’d just finished washing up and were about to head upstairs to bed when I realised that the bins needed to be put out for the morning. Wearily, I pulled on my shoes and trudged outside.
To my horror, the washing up water we’d merrily chucked down the sink was spooling across our patio area, collecting in little pools by the side of the grass.
As I looked, I could see the bubbling overflow of our kitchen drain, vomiting out the kitchen water and turning our lovely patio into a river. Having survived the stormy floods travelling to Manchester City the previous day, I hadn’t expected to be experiencing similar in my own back garden.
So, with trepidation I approached the drain to try and find the blockage. I dislodged the cover and, grimacing, stuck my hand down to see if I could sort it out. Liquid poured over my hand and I managed to pull out all kinds of rubbish. Reluctantly, some liquid seeped away but it was mainly spilling over my hand onto the patio rather than down the drain. After half an hour of trying – and cutting the sides of my hands in the process – I gave up and decided to wait until the following day.
My wonderful wife then swept in and organised for Drains specialist Adam to come in later afternoon to sort it out – supposedly at 4. Meant she couldn’t do any washing up all day…shame!
It wasn’t promising when at 4.45 he’d still not arrived and a chase text revealed he wouldn’t be at ours until 6pm. Uh oh.
Actually though, when he arrived, he was hugely apologetic and a really nice guy. And Sophie was very excited to see what he was up to.
She watched in awe as he got out a wide variety of electronic and handheld equipment and then stared on mesmerised as he pounded the gunk out of our drain.
Goodness knows how long it’s been since it was cleaned but the stuff that emerged under duress of his intervention would have made the foulest of rodents turn their noses up.
At one point, his jet washer ejected bucketloads of water across our patio once again, this time imbued with all the guts and gore from the inside of our drainpipe. Nice.
Once he’d finished, he spent a long time cleaning up and making everything fresh and new. Sophie and I had to head inside but we watched closely from the back window and he enjoyed giving her a shock by spraying his washer onto the glass in front of us. Stunned, she cuddled into me. Don’t think she realised that she hadn’t actually got wet.
And so, our drains were gutted and flushed. We now have beautifully clean pipes, ready for the worst that the North Western skies can hit us with over the coming months.
As for Sophie, well she spent the next few days asking, “Where’s Adam gone?” and “When’s Adam coming back?” Far from long-lasting scarring, her dalliances with various professionals Liam, Alex, Daniel, Lee and now Adam have been most enjoyable.
Think as her father it’s my duty at this point to have a quiet word!