Going through the motions — 9 Comments

  1. Ah, my favourite job. I have fond memories of the last house I had in UK, which had a septic tank system. The septic tank in fact worked very well, but the pipework just wasn't up to the task of dealing with the stuff that three women (wife and two teenage daughters) inflicted upon it. So on a regular basis, the cry would come; "Daaad, the shit pipe is blocked again…". It never occurred to any of them that since it was always the garbage that they flushed down the loo that blocked the pipes, perhaps it was them who should unblock it. No, no. That was dad's job.

    The pleasures of being a homeowner…

  2. All part of life's rich tapestry…  

    Fortunately I have not had to use our rods for a while, but I do remember the very satisfying whooshing suction when it finally cleared.  Nearly pulled the rods out of my hands. Lovely!  

    • Great buzz, eh?

      When I was living there (Cotswolds), I had a pub friend (in the days when pubs were real meeting places, and you had friends you'd only see in your local, unlike the doctor's waiting rooms they've turned into since the smoking ban) who used to drive a shit truck. He was a real character, a real Wiltshire country boy with a strong Wiltshire drawl; not educated, but very bright, (and in his own way, very articulate) and many an evening he would regale and amuse us with tales of his varied encounters with other people's cesspits. A great topic of conversation over a few beers! Made me glad I've never driven a shit truck! That is to say, I've driven shit trucks, but I've never driven shit trucks. If you know what I mean…

      • A couple of years ago the neighbours were getting their septic tank demolished/filled in.  There was a knock on the door – a bloke standing there stinking to high heaven and holding out a very large dripping lump of shit.

        "This yours?"  says he.

        "What the fuck?" says I.

        "It's a dog" says he.  "It fell into the tank we're clearing out".

        The massive lump of shit squirmed and wagged its tail at me.

        Fortunately, it wasn't our dog.  The stench was something else!

  3. The last time I had this enjoyable chore with a metre deep manhole overflowing smellily down the drive I found the trouble to be an almost complete brick, which I had to buy more rods to push it through to the next manhole in order to remove it.The strange thing was a careful inspection of the 'upriver' manholes failed to find any sign of a missing brick. The house is 60 years old -so had the brick always been there?

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