Pledges, Wedges, Sludge and Suds

The Pledge

I’ve done it I’ve taken the pledge! I’m not talking furniture polish here of the Mr Sheen variety.  I have no need of polish in my present circumstances but I am looking forward to the day when I will need to dust the furniture, for a week at least. And no, I haven’t pledged to abstain from consuming alcohol.  Given up drink, heavens no.  I have taken the pledge to cycle for thirty days.  Not continuously you understand and no specific distances stipulated, I just have to go for a ride every day for thirty days.  I may live to regret the decision and that is all I have to say on the matter for now.  I found the pledge at 30 Days of Biking.

Who Said Romance is Dead

Now my man is not the most romantic homo sapien, any mention of St Valentine’s Day and he goes all ‘bah humbug’ on me.  I have had one bunch of flowers from him when he came home from the pub at closing time but I think my brother knew the florist and she was selling them off cheap. 

Courtesy of Toon Pool http://www.toonpool.com

He buys chocolate quite often but for his own consumption and usually of the dark variety which I don’t care for. Lucky for him I’m a cheap date; I’m not a big drinker as I am always the driver, I don’t hanker after all the latest fashions, have no desire for a flash car (although I wouldn’t send a Mercedes Sport back if he bought me one) and I don’t have regular manicures, pedicures or hair dos (some think I should).  However, I must admit I’m no Liz Taylor but I have always had a desire for a huge ‘eff off’ solitaire diamond, but I’m not holding my breath for that.

He has however excelled himself in my books; he’s plumbed in my washing machine! What more could a gal want. No more visits to the launderette.  No more will I have to share a machine with a hairy arsed trucker who puts his flip flops and dog blankets in with their smalls.  Said machine is temporarily located in the downstairs loo.  I can sit on the throne complete with soft close lid and fill the machine in comfort.  The only downside is my drum will only fit about 5 kilos whereas the launderette had the 18 kilo machines.  Still, it’s a small price to pay.  Who says romance is dead!

Septic Tanks and Stink Pipes

We are not hooked up to mains sewerage here.  This means we have had to install a septic tank or fosse septique.  This requires a 4000 litre concrete tank that catches our pooh, pee and waste water.  The pooh settles at the bottom of the tank (the sludge layer) and the liquid goes through pipes to a 30 square metre filter bed and finally down a 20 metre pipe. A very nice lad from SPANC has been out to inspect and passed it.  We just have the 20 metre trench, a grease trap and a stink pipe to complete the process and be awarded our certificate which will take pride of place on the wall next to my 10 metre Swimming Certificate and the LGB’s City and Guilds Building Certificate.  The stink pipe has to pass through the roof and beyond the roof ridge line.  It does what it says on the tin and carries the smelly gases and thus the stink and throws it out through the roof pipe to be wafted away by a passing breeze and blown through someone else’s open window and in turn we get someone’s smells floating through our window.  There’s lovely.

I continue to paint as and when I am not needed by the LGB (the windows that is not amazing masterpieces).  I am looking for flooring for the ground floor.  Of course everything I like is hugely expensive so a compromise has to be reached.  The LGB wants to start the fireplace before the bad weather sets in so that we can get a wood burner up and running that means thinking of a design and ordering stone.  I am all for that, I don't fancy showering in 1.5 degrees again this year. Decisions, decisions.

Wash Day Blues

Hey boys, do you think I could renew my membership with you at the Wash Day Blues Club.  It’s just that after the LGB kindly plumbed in my washing machine I discovered the drive belt has gone on it and the drum won’t go round!  Would that be okay then? No, no ‘hairy arsed’ is an English term of endearment we endow on hard working macho truckers. Yes, really.  In fact I have my own hairy arsed builder at home.  So when you’ve finished washing your sweaty vests and y-fronts can I use that machine!