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.

Back to the original evacuation

In the eye of the bounty,
For the desire of hungered,
Walked the morsel into a cavern,
The workshop of white chargers,
Four short of three dozen,
Cantering in dressage on two red hills,
Equally divided to the task.

The morsel mangled,
Masticated and crushed to pulp,
Moved deeper into the cavern,
And down a peristaltic tunnel,
Into the factory of acids and fluids,
The work of sustenance was at play,
Strength to the bones and life it gave.

Through tubes and bigger tubes,
In channels that define the living,
For activity yet misunderstood,
But necessary at all times,
Then all discomfort came a-belly,
Ascending the contraption of Thomas Crapper,
He settled to the evacuation.

Essential Snobbery 101: Look back in anger

All the loo roles

I know I like to play with alliterations, and a visit to a place downstairs just had me wondering how beneath the veneer of faux-respectability of people milling around, as co-workers are habits that leave much to be desired.

The loo, lavatory, latrine, ladies, toilet, gents, bog, urinal, cottage, water closet (WC) or convenience is a somewhat private place for movements and activity nature intended.

That we have found systems to manage and handle the different deposits is credit to creativity and ingenuity of man to bring elements of sophisticated, yet understated finesse to the handling of foul substances.

Noticing notices of note

Once upon a time, to evacuate really did mean to let things go from the bowels, but now, it is mostly used to mean getting people out of a building, especially out of dangerous buildings or vehicles.

There are things that are expected in these places that people do not feel disposed to do, and you end up reading notices like, “Please leave this place as you will like to find it” or “Please wash your hands”.

I would like to see in the men’s urinals notices that say, “Please do not spit your chewing gum into the urinal, ureic acid does not dissolve chewing gum, and furthermore, chewing gum is not biodegradable.” Men reading this will fully understand what I mean. I don’t chew gum.

Just clean up after you

Now, I cannot say why toilet bowls are white in most cases, but white is an implicit revelation of otherness when some things are not done. Especially when there is the option to flush the toilet and a toilet brush to help, “Please leave this place as you will like to find it” – I guess this notice implicitly suggests anyone visiting a toilet expects to find it clean, no matter how many other visitors have been before, if they all clean up after use.

I swore under my breath when the revelation on white was so unmissable, the earlier user could only have been so uncultured to have taken his anti-social skills back to the day of the Palaeolithic man. Whilst someone is paid to clean up after our mess, I do not think this was the kind of mess they were engaged to clean up.

That I can promptly lose respect for those who cannot look back in anger and ensure the next person looks in with a smile is my way of putting a four-letter word into a blog.

Please, always look back in anger when you have done your thing and “Please leave this place as you will like to find it. Thank you.”

The draw of decorated toilet paper

The haze of laze

I finally escaped the grasp of laziness to do some shopping that I should have done soon after I returned from holiday on Monday.

The convenience of just going downstairs where the supermarket is on the ground floor sometimes breeds a sense of slothful procrastination that begets a sour realisation that the store is close when a cursory glance is cast at the clock.

Without my visit today, I would not have known that all the while when I thought the shop was closed at 21:00 hours, from the beginning of the month the opening hours had been extended to 22:00 hours.

Soft and decorated

In any case, I took the empty glass bottles to the recycling bin and made for the supermarket, hitching a large trolley for my sweep of goods, foods, materials and drinks.

When I got to the aisle with toilet paper I was met with all sorts of choices and the options for comfort; 2-ply, 3-ply, 4-ply, soft, strong, firm, scented and decorated. What on earth would you need decorated toilet paper for?

Meanwhile, the quilted ones that had that fluffy feel were no more on sale, the balance of tender over the profligacy had to be met in the lightly decorated 3-ply option – I will just have to take a deep breath and hope for the best.

Little or large?

My mathematical head got the better of me as I thought about getting the tubs of Natural Greek Yoghurt, the large tub was 500g going for EUR 2.65 and the 170g tubs going for 85 Euro cents. The label for the 170g tubs listed them as 150g tubs which would have turned out dearer than the larger tub if I got 3 small tubs, but with the real weight of the tubs I had 510g for EUR 2.55.

Not that it would have really mattered but it meant, I have space the times between the consumption of each small tub than having to finish the large tub within a number of days.

The fuzzy logic that informs the whole process might turn out into a thesis but my trolley was full and it meant I was going to wheel the trolley upstairs than attempt to carry all that stuff the 150 metres to the main entrance and 7 floors up.

One of the fringe benefits of living above a supermarket and long may that be.

Hanging on to nothing

Hanging onto nothing

Subconsciously, one visits the gents at work and makes to put ones jacket up and the coat hook is not there. It was there last week.

Maybe the other toilet and the coat hook there is gone too – somebody tell me why anyone would remove coat hooks from toilets.

Now, I rarely walk around the office without my jacket on, in fact, it is almost always on, I wear suits with material that keeps its durable look without getting unnecessarily crumpled.

This development was certainly very uncomfortable for me I had to lodge a report with our support office presaging my complaint with the statement that it was a bizarre question but one that needed to be asked.

A valet I require

I have no respect for a restaurant that does not have the means for keeping my overcoat, hat and cane in good order.

Sometimes, I have to keep my hat on walking through buildings or shops until I have to converse with ladies or strangers just because the hat stand that used to be at the entrance of public places some 60 years ago has given place to sloppy and indecent modernity and unwholesome fashion.

I was almost apoplectic with rage when a concierge in a supposedly 5* hotel where I was attending a conference stuffed my hat down my coat sleeve. I could not believe my effects could be so damaged by an uncouth hireling, that hotel lost a good 4 stars in my estimation, I have not returned there since.

Why? O, Why?

You just cannot be in nature’s succumbed stance in your jacket; it makes you wonder about the office apparatchik who thought up the idea of ridding the toilets of the coat hook.

It would hardly save the planet or pull down the walls of safety in that private place; for that little but quite significant inconvenience, I had to empty my coat pockets and place my coat on back of my seat to visit the gents.

A simple act of vandalism

I would hope when they do realise that that act of vandalism has been noticed, somebody would make amends or going to the gents would not be as subconsciously routine as it once was.

Given that there are very few of us who wear suits to work, it does not mean we do not need coat racks, hat stands and brolly holders – a sudden discomfort close to proctalgia strikes one as it is possible they would be making off with the doors next.

Save us from rotten facilities management, please!