I mentioned before about the council ripping up my lane.
After several days of noise, destruction and obstruction they finally fucked off leaving the lane [as promised] in a complete mess. The tarmac they used to fill their trench is already cracking with great lumps of it breaking off and ending in my hedge.
Yesterday morning I was woken at the ungodly hour of twelve by a banging on the door.
When I opened the door there was a young lad there [he couldn’t have been more than thirty] who glanced at my unadorned Adonis-like frame and apologised for getting me out of bed.
This lad was sharp.
He told me he was from the council, inspecting the work on the lane and said that he was concerned about my pipe.
Maybe I should explain that when they finally finished, I went out to inspect the mess and found a wee plate in the ground [presumably for my meter? Hah!] half buried in tarmac, and a dirty great pipe coming out of the ground and disappearing into my hedge.
My young friend from the council informed me that I would have to do something about that pipe.
I pointed out that it was their pipe and that I wasn’t going to touch it.
He said I should bury it as otherwise it will freeze solid.
I said it wouldn’t.
He began to get a wee bit tetchy and patiently explained to me that a water pipe above ground will tend to freeze in mid winter.
I patiently explained to him that a water pipe won’t freeze unless there is water in it.
“But” says he, “that pipe supplies water to your house.
“No it doesn’t” I very patiently told him.
He gave me the kind of look that one reserves for a complete moron and proceeded to explain to me in words of one syllable how a pipe carries water from a main to a house. I interrupted him and told him to go out to the lane and pull the pipe.
“What?” says he, now firmly convinced I had finally lost my remaining marble.
“Just humour me.” I was getting very fucking cold at this stage.
He went outside and gave the pipe a hefty tug. The loose end came free out of the hedge and he nearly ended on his arse in the middle of the lane.
He twiddled the pipe and even peered into the open end. He stared at the pipe for a full minute before gently poking it back into the hedge.
“You’re right” says he. “Sorry for disturbing you”. He went on his merry way.
They really do employ the brains of Ireland in the council.