lizblog

Hang it all!

We have fun at school! Imagine, all those little 4 and 5 year olds, safely encased in their splash suits, about to go and play out in the rain ...... and the puddles .....

...... and the mud!

They made a chocolate river, dug a deep hole in the soil box (about 6 foot square) and then proceeded to bury one of their class mates. I couldn't understand why she wasn't getting off the soil and lining up to wash her wellies, until she pointed out that her wellies were stuck. As it turned out, they really were stuck, so I lifted her out of her wellies and handed her to a member of staff ( fortunately she was a smaller child) and then freed her wellies, buried nearly to the top in mud.

The next day the mud became oil. It worked quite well mixed with water! I'd banned them from actually climbing into the soil box.

It fell to me to wash all the splash suits over half term .... all 22 of them. Will we do it again? Oh yes!!!!

Such a little thing

So, here it is. An olive. Clearly not the type you eat, but the type that joins pits of copper pipe together .... or not .... as was the case today. Such a little split, but sufficient to allow the pipes to come apart and let gallons of hot water cascade through the kitchen ceiling.

I don't think I've ever come home to find a waterfall in my house before. Even with my hood up, I got very wet scrabbling under the sink trying to turn the water off. In my panic, I was struggling unsuccessfully to get the screw driver into the little screw I needed to turn to make the water stop, so I rang the plumber, Les, ... three times ... at which point he realised that someone had an emergency and answered his phone. He was up in Felton, but hurriedly downed tools and set off to rescue me.

Feeling a little calmer, I tried to turn off the water again, this time successfully. By this time I was soaked to the skin. But gradually the waterfall became a trickle and then just a drip. I found a pan was the best thing to scoop the water up first, then I graduated to a mop and bucket. Five buckets full later (no idea how many pans full before that) the floor was only wet and I was no longer paddling. Then the plumber arrived.

He was quite amused by my wet hair, soggy boots and dripping trousers and coat. By this time I was beginning to see the funny side too.

Only after he had found the pipe did I realise quite how fortunate I had been. The burst pipe was gushing water like a hose pipe! Had I not come home when I did, the house would have been flooded. Les said it must have happened not many minutes before I arrived. Normally I get home around 5pm. Today I came home at 1.30pm as I was on PPA time, which now has a totally new meaning:

Panic, Paddle and Arggghhhhhh!!!!!!!!