Friday, 16 January 2009

Cluedo Part 2: Parisgirl with the Monkey Wrench in the Kitchen

There is some deeply bad karma between me and water at the moment and not just here.

Moving on from the numerous leaks chez nous in Paris, we came to the UK and spent a few days with my parents in Suffolk. The first morning I stepped into the shower, turned on the water and shivered as it turned increasingly tepid (sorry I don't do cold showers). I turned the temperature dial. It heated for a couple of seconds then turned tepid again. I turned it up. The same thing happened. I accused my stepfather ("if you're so cold put on another sweater") of switching off the boiler. He insisted he hadn't and suggested I didn't have a clue how to use temperature control properly. I bit my tongue.

We went to London and checked into a hotel for the weekend. On the first morning I stepped into the shower and turned it on. Two icy cold drops then nothing. No water at all. I turned it off and on again. Still nothing. I raised and lowered the shower head. Nothing. I stepped out of the shower and turned on the sink tap. Nothing. I phoned reception. They said: "Sorry, the supply has been cut off. We don't know why." The Frenchman got up: "What is it about us and water?" he asked.

We came back to Paris. The washing machine inlet was leaking again so I crawled into the cupboard under the sink with my trusty wrench and attached the pipe to another tap. The head honcho at the plumbing company that services our building arrived. I had arranged the visit on Boxing Day. He was an hour late. I told him we had suffered nine leaks and two floods from upstairs in the three months since his company replaced the upriser in the building and we had been advised we needed a pressure reducer. As I said "water pressure reducer" I swear he looked at me as if I was a silly girly (a foreign girly to boot) and said: "You don't need a (sneery tone)'water pressure reducer'. Your pipes are old. That's the problem." He then turned on his heels and walked out of the door while I was still talking to him. It was a good job I did not have the monkey wrench in my hand at the time.

I told the Frenchman. He said he'd sort it out. "Do you want the wrench?" I asked. He said: "No, just the telephone."


A Woman Of No Importance said... You are not alone with your plumbing dilemmas, La Fille de Paris, hope this link to similar humo(u)rous woes helps!

Iota said...

Sorry to hear of your w-eau-s.

Dumdad said...

Water, water everywhere and not a drop to shower in . . . you really are going native, aren't you?

Henry the Dog said...

Oh you poor, poor thing. Mum sends her condolences. Mum hates it when things go wrong with the plumbing. It's one of her big fears (yes,she's a tad strange). Also, the plumber - what a prat n'est-ce pas?