Wet wet wet

The Crofter left this morning on the Aberdeen train. Seven hours later I call him:

Is there a tap on the water pipe that comes from the burn? (Said pipe supplies water for cows troughs and polytunnel).

Him: No, why? (N.B. Background noise means he’s sat at the airport)

Me: It’s got a hole and there’s a high pressure water foundation coming from it which I need to fix.

Him: A hole? How?

Me: Hmm, I shot it. Why didn’t you bury that pipe way back? How was I supposed to see it under the grass!

I hate to think what that conversation sounded like on his end. Two phone calls trying to problem solve and I found out there was no tap to turn the water off, the sediment tank was near busting, I couldn’t get the pipes to unscrew at any join and not only that, the next door neighbour who’s good with plumping wasn’t back from work yet. Can I also say I was soaked by this time having tried to get tape over the hole. And it was cold.

Note to all future plumbers to the croft: can you all please put in taps above the point where I could be shooting for pest control? My step count for the day suddenly rose when I had to sprint up the hill to take the pipe out of the burn before sprinting back to turn the supply over to the bore hole. I could have done without the sprint training although I am wishing to improve my fitness.

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