4
Sep
2009

Sod You, Thames Water

Man’s biggest fear is not sharks, swine flu or shooting blanks.

It’s calling out an electrician/cable guy/plumber only to have him flick a switch and fix the problem before the kettle has boiled.

Hours of swearing, dismantling and musing need to be put in before man will succumb to ringing a professional.

But on this occasion a good hour had gone by, and despite my housemates’ best efforts, our water supply wasn’t coming back for love nor money.

Accepting this, the have-a-go heroes got up from the kitchen floor and we all headed to the shop (when the water’s stopped for no explicable reason, the only thing left to do is stock up on Rioja and chocolate until the whole thing blows over).

With booze on the horizon, I was feeling better about the no-shower-or-cup-of-tea situation. But on the advice of my dad (the original and best DIY hero) I reluctantly called up our friends at Thames Water.

The usual lift music started up and I was being assured that I was ‘moving in the queue’ as I plodded down the road wondering if I could sue the bastards for ear cancer after all my hours of whining to them.

But I never did get to rattle off my usual speech about ridiculous bills and random water shortages, because as we turned the corner we saw a monstrous river of water sloshing it’s way past Chick’o’land and down the hill towards Morrisons.

We’d found the problem…

‘Let me assure you Miss Millman, that we have a team of people working on this leak  RIGHT NOW and your water will be on again in the next few hours,’ Miss Thames Water was saying as I stood agape watching the unattended manhole spew out gallons of what was meant to be my bath water down the icky street.

‘Oh really?’ I said, feeling like a sea-faring Miss Marple. ‘Because I’m looking at it RIGHT NOW and I don’t see anyone fixing it.’

Miss Thames Water took a moment to compose herself (she should have guessed, the sound of me crunching my KitKat chunky was barely audible above the roaring fountain of H20).

Finally, she said: ‘Well they’re on their way…’ But I didn’t let her finish. Hanging up never felt so good.

Image by Alan Stanton courtesy of Flickr

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