It's Christmas Eve...........
The story so far, the Octogenarian Mother In law (OMIL) used the hot
water once yesterday, late in the afternoon (probably to rinse out her
support hosiery after steeping them in Oxydol). At that point the
kitchen hot tap had decided to pack in early for Xmas.
She immediately put a call into the plumber who helped build the house
some 5 short Scottish summers ago. His immediate response was, "Oh it
will be a frozen pipe, call me back if it bursts".
The OMIL asked if that was all she could do and, apparently, he gave
what she described as a "telephonic shrug of the shoulders".
So some 12 hours later myself and the French Engineer daughter's
boyfriend (FEDB) struggled through the snow and ice to the OMIL's bijou
bungalow carrying a Booth's Reusable Shopping bag (£2.99 a shot and very
rare in these parts) containing various tools, an egg box (in case the
OMIL's hens had been on the job) and a perfectly reasonable hip flask
filled with Old Pulteney.
According to something called an app on the FEDB's iPhone it was minus
8. I queried this but he assured me it was correct - when I told him
"in Yorkshire we don't have apps we have 'appens" he gave me a querulous
look which could only be described as "Gallic". We were neither in
Yorkshire nor his native France. This temperature, however, was a
"Perfectly good reason to sample the contents of the hipflask" I ventured.
On arrival at the luxury abode of said OMIL we noticed how cold all the
rooms were except for the living room which was full of a warm fug
worthy of the Rovers Return Snug circa 1987. We offered the OMIL a
slurp of the OP which she willingly succumbed to (game old bird - likes
a dram). After we all had a slurp, we agreed our game plan............
Being men of science, we did the extensive tests - hot tap on hot tap
off, cold tap on cold tap off, all around the house, checked the tap
itself - all the usual boring stuff but to no avail. Quick slurp of the
OP and on to the next stage of our scientific task.
We went outside, looked for any evidence of leaks, gathered in six
lovely big brown eggs, Went back inside to the scullery and listened
with the OMIL's ear trumpet just in case the hot water tank was slowly
emptying cos of a burst. Nope that was OK. (Have you ever surveyed the
junk in an OMIL's scullery? Unbelievable). Finally we decided to trace
the pipework but it seemed to go underground. End of that idea. Must
be a frozen pipe
So after a few judicious slurps of OP we offered up the following advice
to the OMIL: "Turn up all your heating to it's highest setting and
leave the hot tap open in case the iced up pipe thaws, you'll know when
this happens cos you'll hear the water running and the hot water tank
rumbling".
So off we went back down the brae in stunning late December sunlight
across the ice and snow. The temperature was now minus 5 according to
the FEDB's 'appen on his iPhone. We had the final slurps of OP as it
would have been wrong not to.
Settled down in front of the roaring Betty Towers fire (graciously lit
by child whilst we were out on our mercy errand) I was just about to
search out the bottle with the rest of the OP when, blow me, the phone rang.
"A plumber has just been to my neighbour's house - the pipe is in the
loft". Now this is a loft which has just recently been insulated as
part of a government scheme to keep OMIL's warm in winter and it appears
to be so effective that pipes in the lofts are freezing, marvellous and
good work loft insulating company, your stuff certainly works.............
Well we've topped up the OP hip flask and now we are on our way back up
to the OMIL's with a ladder to get in the loft, several hot water
bottles and a hair drier oh, and one of them torches they use to rescue
sheep from down pot holes.
More later.....................
Betty
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