Plumbing Challenge part two
You know that scene in Cast Away, where Tom Hanks finally manages to light a fire? He’s beating his chest and doing the victory dance, it’s all very tribal and a little cringeworthy? Well, that was me yesterday morning, and my rite of passage involved the same torture, but without the plane crash and bad tooth. I would illustrate today’s chat with photos of my plumbing, but no-one likes to see the underside of someone else’s scabby sink, so I thought we’d have some random Symi shots instead, just to break up the tension.
So, after doing my morning work routine and trying to write a chapter that just wasn’t coming for a reason I couldn’t understand, I took the bull by the horns, collected my trusty adjustable spanner and headed to the bathroom. Bucket at the ready, I removed the waste pipe from the sink with ease because it had never been sealed into the wall, and emptied the pipe into the bucket. Thinking it was just clogged, I found a cane from one of the courtyard plants and an old toothbrush that I knew would come in handy one day and joined the two with some cure-all gaffer tape. I was now armed with ‘the spear of cleaning’, the kind of thing you win at level three of ‘Scrolls’ or other fantasy role-playing video game.
A few scrapes and dig-abouts later, and it was clear the pipe wasn’t blocked by gunk at the parts I could reach, and so I tried bending it a bit to free things up. It was one of those concertina pipes which allow you to do that; I wasn’t bending iron or copper. However, I was bending old plastic, and it broke into pieces, so that pipe was now unusable, and it wasn’t blocked anyway. Taking my screwdriver (I have three!), I unscrewed the plug guard in the sink to reveal the after-effects of X years’ worth of who knows what and used my spear of cleaning to clean up what lay beneath. That was where the blockage had occurred, but now the water was free to flow… directly onto the floor. ‘Okay,’ I thought, ‘I need a new pipe.’
But… How to remove the old pipe from the sink? It seemed attached to the ceramic by some invisible force, and the plastic end of the bendy tube wouldn’t come free. Neil had a go, and hey presto! The whole contraption came away, leaving a pristine ceramic bowl with no discernible way of attaching a new pipe. A quick call to big-sis Jenine up the hill and she explained to a dumbfounded fledgeling that what lies beneath is held in place by what happens above, and everything made sense. Armed thus with knowledge gifted from the high priestess (it’s a ‘writer’s journey’ stage in the classic Hero’s Journey structure of storytelling and comes in the third act), I set off to B&Q.
That’s is what I lovingly call Nellie’s Hardware Store up here in the village, the nearest place to me for DIY bits. I took the old contraption pieces with me so I could compare, but Nellie knew exactly what I wanted and found exactly the right thing. She even told me how to attach it. I also wanted a cap for the dripping washing machine inlet, and she gave me something which appeared to be the right size, telling me to try it before I bought it and bring it back if it didn’t fit. (It doesn’t by about 2mm, which is annoying, so I’m off there later to see if there’s a replacement.) Back home, I did a dry run putting the contraption together to make sure it fitted. My non-existent gymnastic skills came in handy as I contorted myself into all manner of positions to fit into the six-inch gap between pedestal and wall. Pipe fitted, U-bended, and plugged into the wall, and all was well. Except it wasn’t because it leaked at the top. I took it apart, shaved off some excess plastic with my modelling tools, and fitted it again, but still, the pipe was wobbly where it shouldn’t be, and another internal operation revealed it needed a washer… Found the old one, a bit manky but still intact and attached that… Still a drip, though less than before… Found my handy ‘fix everything’ mastic, bunged some of that around the washer and screwed the contraception together through the plug hole… Held my breath… Turned on the tap and… Bob’s your uncle, Fanny’s your aunt, and everyone’s as happy as a pig in sh… It worked! Thus, followed the victory dance with the unneeded adjustable spanner in hand, and all is right with the bathroom world (apart from the dripping washing machine tap, which can wait for the sequel). It will take me a while before I stop checking under the sink every time I run the tap, but I will learn to accept my new-found skill in time, and meanwhile, the water drains away so well I could stand and watch it for hours.
