My cistern runneth over

A test of endurance

We had a technique for flushing the toilet and you could not have two consecutive flushes in the space of 10 minutes of each flush, one had become accustomed to that. When going away, I completely shut off the water mains because the cistern did overflow even after it was obvious that no water was being fed into the cistern. All it took was about 3 days for the floor to flood.

Whatever adjustments I tried to make to the ballcock valve mechanism only seemed a temporary fix and it never got better. This weekend, it came to a head, as the cistern was leaking within an hour of the last flush. Then when at home, you don’t want to close off the water mains as it is needed for the kitchen, the dishwasher and the washing machine, amongst other things, it had become inconvenient.

Calling the toilet doctor

We have a website to log issues with the letting agent that arranges for a workman to visit and fix things. My call went out just after midnight in the transition from Sunday to Monday and by 10:00 AM I had a response that I will be contacted by a service engineer. The report was detailed with photographs along with the suggestion to have the ballcock valve mechanism changed and a stopcock or isolating valve on the pipe feeding the cistern.

When the engineer/plumber arrived, he had made assumptions, a jiggle here and there, he concluded everything was fine and I was not convinced. Within 30 minutes of his departure, the floor was wet and the bathroom rug was soaking wet. He was not available on the phone so I updated my incident report with new photographs of the high-water mark in the cistern extended by about 15 millimetres.

Back on a goose chase

At least, one thing I learnt when he was here was that there was already an isolating valve on the pipe feeding the cistern that could be operated with a flat screwdriver. I flushed the toilet; had it fill up and activated the isolating valve in anticipation of his next visit. That did not happen until I called the letting agent this morning the plumber offered to arrive in 30 minutes with a new fitting.

The fitting after about 45 minutes did not fit, so, he put the old contraption back together and indicated he needed to get another suitable part. He was away for about an hour before returning with a new part and I left him to his devices to do what needed doing. Some 30 minutes later, he called out to say he was done whilst I was on a conference call.

Just try to listen first

Like I suggested at the onset the ballcock valve mechanism was fully replaced and I now know of the isolating valve. Whilst I am no plumber, he could have had a look at what I reported and be prepared for all eventualities rather than end up visiting thrice for over 2 hours of work.

To think the ballcock mechanism was replaced just 4 years ago, you do wonder about the durability of the water cistern system or the quality of the workmanship that fix it that last time. The fixtures seemed to be on worn or misaligned screw threads. I withhold comment on the quality and just look forward to the peace of an easy toilet flush without any expert holds whilst being barred from doing the simple things.

The second photograph with symptoms - the isolating valve is just above the indicator for a stopcock.

After the first visit, the high water mark in the cistern was exceeded by 15 mm.

Self-Isolation - IV

The river overflows

Stuck indoors yesterday in quarantine, I did not realise it had rained so much in the wake of Storm Christoph that brought with it floods, snow and evacuations, our usually tame River Irwell flooded its banks in the city centre.

As I have always been fascinated by the ebb and swell of River Irwell, I have missed my early morning walks which would have brought me close to seeing the malevolent side of nature. The river breached the minor flooding height of 3.00 metres at 9:15 PM on Tuesday the 19^th of January and reached the high-water mark of 4.30 metres at 7:00 PM on Wednesday the 20^th of January before it began to recede, though it is rising again to 2.68 metres as I am writing this blog. [Flood Information Service: River Irwell]

River Irwell level, this morning

Testing my mettle

At closing time, the Track-n-Trace or the UK Government Test for Coronavirus Service called using the information I had entered in my Passenger Locator Form last Friday to ask if I will participate in an International Entrant Test (IET) programme to determine if I had contracted the Coronavirus from South Africa and ascertain what kind of strain it is.

If I were to take into consideration the inconvenience of my enforced quarantine, I would have declined the offer and stayed at home. I am under no obligation to submit myself to testing apart from for the benefit of science and maybe society at large.

The registration process was laborious, cumbersome and intrusive even as they wanted me to take the test today. Having no mode of transport, I would not have been persuaded to test if the testing centre were not within comfortable walking distance. It was just under 2 kilometres away.

Testing my patience

We scheduled the appointment for 6:00 PM and I made my way out to the walk-through testing centre where the conversation and guidance was easy in a completely hands-off manner. I took a swab of my tonsils as I still have then, then stuck it up a nostril for 10 seconds before spilling the contents of the swab kit and obtaining another in which to place the swab.

Then I had to call a freephone number to register my test, following prompts like a manic depressive making time to goose-stepping with 1s and 2s in different orders, I probably did 1221211 before I got to speak to someone who put me back on hold because they probably did not know what an IET was. Passed on to another, a few questions and back on hold to listen to the Top-40 chart of music I could neither make head nor tail of.

A few seconds from 14 minutes into the call, they had obtained as much information as possible, linked my details to the sample and I was ready to have my pizza box kit shipped to London for expedited analysis. Bathing my hands in sanitiser, I stepped into the rain slightly becalmed and got back home with just as much a Poirot shuffle in my gait to spend another six days in self-isolation.

Nursery rhyme speaks of English floods

Children know the flood

It would appear there is nothing else happening in the world apart from the floods in Gloucestershire. BBC News 24 is offering such pervasive coverage even my head is flooded with the news.

In a moment of flood panic, I felt some calm as I remembered a nursery rhyme my mother taught me.

It would appear Gloucester (pronounced Glosster) has been flood-prone from time immemorial, at least a picture in c.1725 shows Johannes Kip's West prospect of Gloucester, emphasising the causeway and bridges traversing the water meadows of the floodplain - a truth so well documented that it was taught to children in a nursery rhyme but ignored to the peril and suffering of many today.

Here goes.

Doctor Foster,

Went to Gloucester,

In a shower of rain,

He fell in a puddle,

Right up to his middle,

And swore never to go to Gloucester again.

You tell me if that is not about rain in Gloucestershire creating a flood that would have been at least 1 metre (3 feet) high.

If only more people were as smart as Doctor Foster, a lot of grief would have been saved.

Out of the mouth of babes ...