I have received a letter and a leaflet from my County Council.
It was addressed to “The Occupier” which is a very bad start and guaranteed to get my hackles up.
They want to know what arrangements I have for sewage disposal. Hah!
They claim this is all about “public health” and “protecting the environment” but seeing as there has not been an outbreak of Ebola or even The Black Death here since I arrived on the scene, they can go fuck themselves, especially as I know this is a directive from Brussels. If Brussels want to stick their noses in my business they are more than welcome to do so, but only in the literal sense.
The leaflet waffles on about local water supplies and how I have to do my bit towards food production, recreation and tourism. Apparently my septic tank is a threat to all of these and more. I honestly had no idea that people in their tens of thousands were forsaking a trip to Ireland because of my septic tank, but I learn something new every day.
The leaflet also tells me how to tell if my septic tank is faulty.
Is there a smell? Well, no. There isn’t. And the dogs [whose noses are more powerful by several orders of magnitude] have never shown any interest in the system, so I think I can safely say it is odour-free.
Are my toilets slow to flush? Well, that all depends. If I drop a gigantic Mr Hankey after a good feed of Guinness then it can sometimes have a bit of trouble getting around the bend and it may require more than one flush or even a judicious prod from Herself’s toothbrush. Apart from that, my flushing is perfectly normal, thanks very much.
Is vegetation flourishing in the outflow area? Ah! Now, here we might have a problem all right. The plants in the outflow area are, I have to admit, flourishing. They are fast growing and damned healthy. It is the corner of the property that is reserved for my prize plants.
Maybe I should have picked up on the clues before.
The lads in the village always refer to my vegetation as “fucking great shit”.