|
|
Whoa Whoa Whoa Whoa!
Posted on: Tuesday, February 02, 2010
I’m nitpicking, I know I am. I’ve been faffing about for ages over which spelling of “whoa” to use for the title of this piece. I briefly considered the “woe” version, but it struck me as far too whiney for a story about a frozen water pipe. I then contemplated “woah”. "Woah" is what people say to their horses when they want them to stop, but it didn’t seem right either, possibly because I don’t say “woah” to my horse. What I say is something more along the lines of “Hang on a second, Kwint, we need to take your blanket off”, whereupon Kwintus (a horse of superior intelligence who always knows exactly what I’m saying) heads over to the peg rail by the arena door and stops. No, the horsey-halting “woah” definitely wasn’t right.
The essence of the “whoa” I’m trying to convey is a cross between “woe” as in sorrow or distress, and the kind of musical “whoa” belted out in pop songs. You know, like Annie Lennox’s whoa-whoa-whoa-ing in “Thorn in my Side”, which is nowhere near my favourite Eurhythmics song, but for some mysterious reason has been stuck in my mind since the whoa-ing woes got me.
What am I whoa-ing about all of a sudden? Well, nothing terrible, just a series of annoying little incidents. To begin with, the weather has been a real pain in booty since way before Christmas, openly mocking all Global Warming theories and obstinately remaining in the shiver zone. Even the lovely old farmer/grocer in my village doesn’t remember seeing so much snow on the shores of Lake Geneva since he was a young lad. There’s also the fact that we’re all feeling light deprived. It’s been grey, grey, grey for weeks, which makes most people feel whoa, whoa, whoa. But none of this would be bothering me as much if the sub-zero temperatures hadn’t contributed in bursting a water pipe buried deep beneath the beautiful rhododendrons in the flower garden outside my front door, which will soon have to be dug up to fix the problem.
And it is a problem. Ever since the pipe burst on New Year’s Eve and cut off our water supply, we’ve been connected to the water mains by a temporary exterior hosepipe, meaning we’ve had to leave a tap running in the house 24/7 to prevent the hosepipe from freezing. Although this perturbs my moral ethics, there’s nothing I can do about it until the various companies contracted to fix the problem can come and do the work. It’s also a pain because people automatically tend to turn taps off after washing their hands, so we’ve had to keep a constant running-water vigil for the past month. Eventually, however, it was bound to happen. Our attention slipped on Saturday night: hands were washed and the tap in the guest bathroom was turned off. When we woke up on Sunday morning the hosepipe outside had frozen, leaving us waterless.
Of course, I’ve been without running water before, but I must admit that it’s a real eye-opener whenever it happens. Here in the western world we take things such as water and electricity for granted, so when all of a sudden one of them is taken away, we’re completely thrown. I rang one of my sisters late Sunday morning, not to have a moan, but because it had been a couple of days since we’d chatted. When I told her about our frozen pipe waterless situation, she immediately suggested I go and pour some hot water on the hose. I hate to admit it, but it took my brain a minute or so to process the daftness of her suggestion and tell her I didn’t have any hot water to pour on the damn pipe!
No, we’re not utterly blonde, we’re just slightly slow on Sunday mornings, and not used to unresponsive taps.
Anyway, Mr. Prescott soon took the problem into his own hands. He dragged the hosepipe northwest by a couple of meters, declaring that since the sun was out (finally!), the pipe would soon thaw and everything would return to normal. I wasn’t so sure; yes, it was a blue and yellow day, but the outside temperature was far more Alaska than Saint Tropez. I pestered him to call the local plumber’s home number and ask for advice and/or help, and when he finally did he was told to arm himself with a hairdryer, an extension cord and a heck of a lot of patience.
Unfortunately, at that very moment, far away on the other side of the world, Swiss national hero Roger Federer was battling Andy Murray in the final of the Australian Open. As far as Mr. Prescott was concerned, the frozen hosepipe could wait; he had some riveting tennis to watch.
Meanwhile, my impatience was mounting. As much as I admire Roger, I had laundry to do, dishes to wash, toilets to flush. I zipped up my winter boots, shrugged on a thick jacket, grabbed my Salon Pro hairdryer and stomped down to the garden shed to find the extension cord. Then, for over an hour and a half, I froze my own pipes off, squatting miserably in the hostile tundra of my garden, blasting the hose with hot air. Mr. Prescott nipped out a couple of times (presumably while Rodger and Andy were having a little sit down in between sets), to survey my craftsmanship. “You need to start at the other end, next to the manhole” he said loftily, striding down the garden path in his “baboush” (Moroccan slippers) and ethnic print loose cotton trousers. True to my do-as-you’re-told, placid nature, I initially did as I was bid.
It appeared however that Mr. Prescott was wary of my competence in the hose-blasting field, because he came back about fifteen minutes later. “You need to blast the heat closer to the joint on the mains,” he called from the comfort of our bedroom window, waving his coffee cup, his mood irritatingly debonair.
My tonsils vibrated as my hackles rose. My knees cracked and my lower back pinged as I slowly stood up, turned around and hurled ocular ice-picks at him. Not only was he seriously pushing it with the technical advice from afar, but he was also suggesting I stick an arm down the manhole and aim the hairdryer towards a deep puddle of murky water! I may be blonde, but I’m not peroxide. In fact, ever since French pop star Claude François tragically electrocuted himself in 1978, apparently drying his hair while sitting in the bath, I’m paranoid about using hairdryers around water. No way was I going to go up in a puff of smoke in the garden! What would the neighbours think?
I don’t recall my exact words, but once they’d been spoken, Mr. Prescott shut the window and scurried back downstairs to watch the match. Muttering under my breath, I blasted on.
Eventually however, I got too cold. Besides, I had more pressing things to do than blow hot air on a recalcitrant pipe all day long; my father was due in hospital for knee surgery at 4 o’clock and I wanted to spend some time with him beforehand. At one pm, I switched off the hairdryer, grabbed the car keys, and told Mr. Prescott to keep up my good work. Ten minutes later, as I sped down the motorway, the radio announced Federer’s victory. Pretty soon my phone rang.
“Just to let you know that the water’s back!” said my husband, triumphantly. “Only took me a couple of minutes.”
“I suppose I did a good job, then,” I shot back. If he thought he was going to take all the credit!
“Yes, you did. Well, tell your father I’ll come visit him in a couple of days. See you later. Drive carefully!”
Well, when I bounded up the stairs a few hours later my nostrils immediately tensed up, offended by an unpleasant smell wafting through the hallway.
“There’s a funny smell in the house,” said my husband, happily watching the sports news with a nice cup of tea. Actually, he wasn’t watching the sports news, I’m just being facetious – I don’t quite remember what Mr. Prescott was doing when I got home, but it was probably something far more constructive. In all fairness, my husband is anything but a television loving couch potato, he’s a hard working, sports-obsessed whirlwind, incapable of sleeping in late or sitting down for more than five minutes at a time. Unless, of course, Roger Federer is playing!
I scoured the kitchen like a tracker dog, desperately seeking the origin of the foul, fishy smell, but didn’t find anything. It seemed to be coming from the sink; could the waterless night/frozen pipes have caused some sort of bacterial fiesta in the depths of the plumbing? I ran the hot water tap for ages, rinsed it with a mixture of bicarbonate of soda and white vinegar. The smell subsisted. I attacked it with bleach, to no avail. Finally, at my wits end, I slammed it with an ecologically incorrect Draino type concoction and went to bed, certain of victory.
The smell defeated me.
On Monday morning, we ate breakfast in a rotten fish infused atmosphere. To make matters worse, I’d slept badly and my back was killing me. Feeling sorry for myself, I drove into town for a session with my back guru, and emerged an hour later feeling like I’d been crushed by an ogre driven steamroller (my back guru is magic, kneading bones, nerves and tissues ordinary masseurs cannot reach, but his touch is not for the faint of heart). Now, twenty-four hours later, my back is feeling much better, and things are looking up. It’s still below zero outside, but the tap in the guest bathroom is running, ensuring the hosepipe doesn’t freeze solid. Today’s mail indicates progress in the digging up the rhododendron department, and my father’s knee surgery went really well.
However, I have yet to solve the mystery of the smelly kitchen.
Whoa whoa whoa whoa…
xx Francesca
February 2010
Other current news items
Argh in the City!
Posted on: Tuesday, March 09, 2010
A Cornish Escapade
Posted on: Monday, March 01, 2010
Proud Mama Presents: "A Day in the Life" by Greg Bossert
Posted on: Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Dolphins in Dubai
Posted on: Wednesday, January 06, 2010
CURB YOUR CHRISTMAS ENTHUSIASM!
Posted on: Tuesday, December 08, 2009
Meet Mona Risk
Posted on: Monday, December 07, 2009
Getting Ziggy with it!
Posted on: Sunday, November 22, 2009
A Bold and Beautiful Confession
Posted on: Thursday, November 19, 2009
The Gift Horse
Posted on: Thursday, November 05, 2009
What are Swiss Men Like?
Posted on: Wednesday, November 04, 2009
A Horse with a Heart
Posted on: Monday, November 02, 2009
I want to work here!
Posted on: Thursday, October 15, 2009
Cornwall
Posted on: Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Besos de Ibiza
Posted on: Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Lucky in Love
Posted on: Tuesday, August 18, 2009
He has us at Hellllooooo!
Posted on: Saturday, August 15, 2009
Something to smile about
Posted on: Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Thank you
Posted on: Sunday, June 21, 2009
You, me and "Mucho Caliente!"
Posted on: Monday, June 15, 2009
AUTHOR SPOTLIGHT LASR: This week it's me!
Posted on: Monday, June 08, 2009
We're Going to Ibiza!
Posted on: Friday, June 05, 2009
CELIA YEARY - "All my Hopes and Dreams"
Posted on: Monday, June 01, 2009
My article at 1st Turning Point - Two Out of Three Ain't Bad
Posted on: Friday, May 22, 2009
COME TO MY FIRST READING
Posted on: Thursday, May 14, 2009
New Interview with Loraine Hunsaker
Posted on: Thursday, May 07, 2009
Review in Ibiza Now magazine
Posted on: Wednesday, May 06, 2009
FEATURE IN IBIZA STYLE MAGAZINE, MAY ISSUE, OUT TODAY!!!
Posted on: Saturday, May 02, 2009
New Review from Classic Romance Revival
Posted on: Friday, May 01, 2009
Happy feeling guaranteed!
Posted on: Friday, April 24, 2009
Lovely New Review
Posted on: Friday, April 17, 2009
Fresh, pink kisses from Ibiza!
Posted on: Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Classic Romance
Posted on: Sunday, March 29, 2009
Judah Raine: THE LOOK
Posted on: Tuesday, March 24, 2009
By George, Whatever Next!
Posted on: Saturday, March 21, 2009
Blonde Perks
Posted on: Thursday, March 12, 2009
"SEASON OF THE WITCH"
Posted on: Saturday, March 07, 2009
THE BULLS WOULD BE FURIOUS!
Posted on: Thursday, February 19, 2009
"Mucho Caliente!" Wins Best Book of the Year
Posted on: Monday, February 16, 2009
MEET KETA DIABLO!
Posted on: Sunday, February 15, 2009
"MUCHO CALIENTE!" NOMINATED FOR BOOK OF THE YEAR BY LASR!
Posted on: Monday, February 02, 2009
MYSTIFIED...AND OFFICIALLY FAMOUS!
Posted on: Thursday, January 29, 2009
FABULOUS NEW REVIEW FOR "MUCHO CALIENTE!"
Posted on: Monday, January 26, 2009
WILL YOU HELP MAKE ME A ROCK STAR?
Posted on: Thursday, January 22, 2009
THE BEAUTY OF RECYCLING...CHANDELIERS!
Posted on: Saturday, January 17, 2009
"Mucho Caliente!" receives a Best Book Award
Posted on: Friday, January 02, 2009
Great Review for
Posted on: Wednesday, December 10, 2008
"MUCHO CALIENTE!" AVAILABLE IN PRINT
Posted on: Sunday, December 07, 2008
Do you need a stocking stuffer?
Posted on: Thursday, November 27, 2008
ARE WE COOL YET?
Posted on: Thursday, November 27, 2008
The Sweet Smell of Smurfcess
Posted on: Friday, November 14, 2008
MY FIRST INTERVIEW!
Posted on: Monday, November 03, 2008
I'M A ROCK STAR, TOO!
Posted on: Tuesday, October 14, 2008
|
|
News
