3: Routines around water

This is the third in the series about the boring things I do each week, or at least regularly, with my attempt to write in a Spanish angle.

We, well the house, has a cesspit. Nothing sophisticated, just a brick-lined hole in the ground. If we were to try and sell the house we'd have to do something about that. Legislation has changed in the years we've lived here. Now we'd either have to put in a decent septic tank or, more likely, dig a big trench to connect our house to the village drain that stops 200 metres from our front door. All the run-off from the washbasins, sink, showers and toilets goes into that cesspit, the black hole, and microorganisms do the rest. 

Lots of the toilets in Spanish bars, museums and the like have signs asking you to throw soiled toilet paper into a wastebasket. But, good Lord, we're British - we couldn't do that. What about the stench, what about the flies? No, we whizz the paper down the toilet and flush. On one occasion, that caused a problem. Basically, all the drains in, say, a bathroom or kitchen go to a central point beneath the floor of the room, the arqueta, and then join a single pipe which goes to the cesspit. In one of the en-suites, that arqueta trapped lots of unspeakable stuff. We found out because we'd had to break through the tiled floor to get to a leaking water inflow tube. With Marigolds, a bit of stretching and a lot of cursing I cleaned that out but, in order to stop the same thing happening again, I took to hurling a couple of bucketfuls of water down each of the toilets each week. 

We also have trouble with the hard water. The scale that builds up does a lot of damage. It blocks the flow reducing filters on the taps, the scale clogs up the inside of shower hoses and shower heads and it coats the heating elements of electrical water heaters with stone. One new kettle furred up so much within a month that it started to leak. I've now incorporated so many small tasks within the routine that what was once simply tipping a couple of bucketfuls now takes me around 40 minutes each week. 

Another water-related job is that I check our water meter every week to make sure that the use is more or less as expected. We've heard far too many stories of a leak on the consumer's side of the water meter that have run undetected for long periods, with resultant big bills. 

At the main stop valve, where the water comes into the house, we have a simple filter to catch at least some of the sediment. I check that every three months and change it as necessary. From that inlet point the water passes through a tube that ran, exposed, along the side of a North facing wall. The water used to freeze up several times over the winter, leaving us less fragrant for the day. When we realised why that was happening I wrapped the tube with insulation and I now check that insulation on a monthly basis, replacing jaded gaffer tape and adding bubble wrap as necessary. We didn't have a single day without water, because of frozen pipes, last winter though I suppose Global Warming may have loaned a helping hand there.

One last thing is that the our clean water supply, on the council owned side of the meter, comes in pipes that are varying depths below ground level. Every now and again a passing tractor or lorry damages the pipe and we lose our supply. There's 24 hour call out service provided by the town hall so it's not such a big deal but it can take a while to get sorted sometimes.

Routine

Despite knowing that there are a bunch of men knocking things down and building things up outside our living room window it's amazing how many times we've gone to open the door to a building that no longer exists to get the vacuum cleaner! We're a bit unsettled and, probably because of that, things seem to be coming in clumps.

The demolition denied us hot water and laundry facilities but, thanks to the generosity of a couple of friends, we can now shower and launder. We also had a problem with Maggie's car and it's off the road. There again, someone stepped up and loaned us a motor for a bit.

In amongst the general upheaval the heating in our house packed up. It turned out to be a blocked chimney starving the burner of air which is what Maggie had suggested it might be right from the get go! Once the fitter had the burner working again we needed to get a chimney sweep. The bloke who came didn't sound like Dick Van Dyke nor did he have any small boys to send up the chimney. He did have big vacuum cleaners and brushes that were turned by an electric drill. He also had very sooty hands so I presume I can expect nothing but good luck after shaking one of them. He was English. I thought it was an intelligent choice of self employment in an area where there are still lots of open fires, wood burners and pellet stoves.

A couple of hours before the sweep we had a tanker truck come to suck out the liquids and solids from our cesspit. The builders had complained that they were paddling in fetid pools as they dug foundations. The tanker driver made me feel very inadequate. "Your cesspit is tiny, made from concrete," he said, "only two thousand litres." It sounded like a personal failing. He also suggested that instead of calling him so often we should get a small pump and pump out the nutrient rich liquid ourselves to spread around the garden. That way we'd have to call him only when the tank was more slurry than liquid. We will take it under advisement.

A bit later, the same afternoon, the carpenter who is making a glass panelled sliding door for us popped around to pick up some bits and bats. Apparently the door is nearly ready and, when it is, the building work will move inside.

This morning the builders arrived surprisingly early. I needed to get dressed in double quick time to move the cars from the drive as they get in their way. As I was doing that a big cement mixer truck appeared and threaded its way up the very narrow track alongside our house.

I like to believe that I'm still quite active but the truth is that I will be pleased when I can go back to getting up, having a shower, eating breakfast and doing a bit of reading before a routine day kicks off. We old people, at least this old person, like stability and routine.