A normal sort of a day

It was a normal sort of a day yesterday, Storm Pia was still raging so the rain, unable to come down in sheets, was flung against the front of the house and our bedroom windows. We woke to the usual depressing news from around the world, and I reflected how lucky we were, how very lucky we were that all we had to worry about was getting wet if we decided to go out.

It was a normal sort of a day until I turned the tap on in the bathroom… and nothing, not so much as a croak. Downstairs, the kitchen tap gave a feeble dribble, then a drip and then nothing. Ditto the downstairs bathroom. Simple solution – or first step in the solution, ring the water board – I’m probably the only one who calls it that, it’s probably a company now, ditto the gas board and the electricity board. Celia answered the phone and sympathised and put me through to Tom. He asked me a few questions in a polite and efficient way, told me he would send an engineer, and in a rather cheery manner (it was early so he was no doubt feeling quite perky) he added that if by chance the engineer wasn’t with us by the afternoon, to ring back.

We had water in the kettle fortunately, and milk in the fridge, and because of the excess of rain over the last weeks the water butts were full in case we needed a bucket full to flush the loo. However, it didn’t come to that, because as I glanced out of the window I noticed a Bristol Water van had pulled up outside our house and a man in luminous waterproofs had opened a small square manhole cover in the path and was about to use some sort of long lance-like tool to do something.

I opened the door and called out a thank you for arriving so quickly and asked if he’d like a coffee or a tea. He thanked me but said no, so I left him too it, but watched through the window as he poked about with his lance (which may have had a screwing thing on the end) and then got down on his knees and reached down to do something to something. He went back and forth to his van, but within not very long I saw him heading up the path and I opened the door again.

Was the water back on?  I would go and see. I rushed round the house turning on and off taps, and from each, there was a cough and then a torrent (I exaggerate) of pure clear water gushed forth. I ran back to the front door and called out to the engineer that all was well, we had water! He told me whatever was the problem was a common thing which happened from time to time and he’d had to do the same to one of our neighbour’s water supply a year ago. I thanked him and he leapt back into his van and zoomed off to solve someone else’s water supply problem.

It was only later that I began to reflect on how truly fortunate we are, how much we take for granted that we have water, that the water we have is clean and won’t harm us if we drink it.  We can cook with it as well as drink it, we can keep ourselves clean and wash our dishes and our clothes. We can flush our lavatories, lavatories which we have in our own homes. If something goes wrong with our supply, an engineer will come and fix it. We have a climate and weather where we can take the supply of water for granted – however anxious we might be for short periods in the summer when the rain fall is low. Our farmers might become anxious at such times, worrying about their crops and animals, but those times are only temporary and, for the moment, not usual. Our supply of water is not disrupted by being blown up, by pipes being smashed and broken by bombing, or by the deliberate sabotaging or contaminating or poisoning.

How very, very lucky we are. One of the charities I support is WaterAid, and I’m going to make an extra donation right now.

www.wateraid.org