This weekend Joe & I converted to our 1950’s counterparts.
I stayed indoors, finished painting our bedroom (blog post to follow), baked cookies, and did the laundry.
Joe, wanting a short break from the bathroom – and with it being reasonably good weather – decided to get some jobs done outside of the house. Y’know. Manly jobs!
Currently, the waste pipe from the bathroom does not connect to the main pipe on the outside wall. In fact, it just spurts straight out onto our driveway. Nice! After a quick trip to Wickes for a bended pipe (I’m convinced this isn’t the correct terminology but bear with me) Joe could connect the pipes together. Right? Wrong.
On testing the water system, there was a blockage. It turns out the pipe has been blocked….for a while. Considering the woman who used to live in our home was at least 100 years old, I really didn’t expect her to be gutting out pipes on a regular basis. But this was really ridiculous. So, off the wall the pipe came. Joe got the bleach out, a hard brush and some rubber gloves and went to town on that drain.
I felt awful for him. It absolutely reeked. He was gagging most of the time and he said it was a combination of “rotten food, muck and what looks like vomit”.
While he was already outside and covered in gunk, he decided to crack on with the “driveway”. He’s been gradually ripping up the bushes, weeds and roots that are buried here so we can eventually put our cars here.
He may have hurt our spade in the process…
(Double oops for cutting Joe’s head off!)
Instead of throwing all this ‘green’ rubbish into the bin for collection, we whacked out the incinerator as well as the free BBQ that came with it. After all, it was Joe’s turn to cook! And we do like to wrap up in our coats and fingerless gloves and sit in the garden. Because we can.