Pssssssssssch
In 1959 my parents bought the house in Leeds where we now live. (My parents, for those of you who don't know, live in a house in its garden, which was built in 2000).
Many things have changed since that time. There was a pigeon loft in the garage - which was in fact originally built as a stable - with pigeons in it. There was the remains of an air-raid shelter in the garden. The greengrocer used to send a boy on a bike round to deliver the fruit and veg. Television was in black and white and Mr Pastry was a cutting-edge comedian (well, I thought so). Muffin the Mule was not a criminal offence and that joke hadn't even been invented yet.
And, in our house, when you turned the taps on, the water came out with gusto and a small cry of Pssssssssssssssssch.
That's one of the things I remember from my very, very, very early childhood (I am stressing the very, you notice, because I know that many of you believe that such a vasty deep of history cannot exist).
Over the years, Leeds has got bigger and the water gradually lost its Pssssssssssssssch.
By the 1970s it was down to Psch. By the 1980s it just trickled out meekly.
And recently, if you put the washing machine and the dishwasher on at the same time - especially if Emily then decided to have a shower, which she frequently did - the water would give up on us completely. Not so much Pssssssssssssssssssssch as a dry silence.
But then, late last Saturday night, I was sitting at this very computer and I heard a strange noise. Several strange noises, in fact. Firstly a gurgling in the pipes. Then a lot of heavy-breathing type sounds. And finally a strange whistling and howling, like a strange watery banshee.
It stopped eventually. Wondering what on earth had happened, I approached the nearest sink with some trepidation and turned the tap on.
PSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSCH! it said. Water spurted out like a scene from the Dam Busters (and don't go telling me you're too young to remember the Dam Busters, please: just get hold of a copy and see it. Great music, too).
I turned the tap off. Gingerly, I turned it on again.
PSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSCH!
I kept sneaking in and repeating the experiment at five-minute intervals until I went to bed. And the next morning I tried it again. It seemed to have settled down a bit and was now merely going Psssssssssssssssssssssch, which was nevertheless about three times the force that we had before this new excitement.
And it's stayed that way. You turn on the tap, and water gushes out. It's like going back to the 1950s, in a really good way. I found myself singing a Cheery Fifties Song in the shower. All together now, come on, Buddy - -
Every day it's a-gettin' closer
Goin' faster than a roller coaster
Love like yours will surely come my way
A-hey, a-hey hey
Thank you, Water Engineers, I think I love you.
Many things have changed since that time. There was a pigeon loft in the garage - which was in fact originally built as a stable - with pigeons in it. There was the remains of an air-raid shelter in the garden. The greengrocer used to send a boy on a bike round to deliver the fruit and veg. Television was in black and white and Mr Pastry was a cutting-edge comedian (well, I thought so). Muffin the Mule was not a criminal offence and that joke hadn't even been invented yet.
And, in our house, when you turned the taps on, the water came out with gusto and a small cry of Pssssssssssssssssch.
That's one of the things I remember from my very, very, very early childhood (I am stressing the very, you notice, because I know that many of you believe that such a vasty deep of history cannot exist).
Over the years, Leeds has got bigger and the water gradually lost its Pssssssssssssssch.
By the 1970s it was down to Psch. By the 1980s it just trickled out meekly.
And recently, if you put the washing machine and the dishwasher on at the same time - especially if Emily then decided to have a shower, which she frequently did - the water would give up on us completely. Not so much Pssssssssssssssssssssch as a dry silence.
But then, late last Saturday night, I was sitting at this very computer and I heard a strange noise. Several strange noises, in fact. Firstly a gurgling in the pipes. Then a lot of heavy-breathing type sounds. And finally a strange whistling and howling, like a strange watery banshee.
It stopped eventually. Wondering what on earth had happened, I approached the nearest sink with some trepidation and turned the tap on.
PSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSCH! it said. Water spurted out like a scene from the Dam Busters (and don't go telling me you're too young to remember the Dam Busters, please: just get hold of a copy and see it. Great music, too).
I turned the tap off. Gingerly, I turned it on again.
PSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSCH!
I kept sneaking in and repeating the experiment at five-minute intervals until I went to bed. And the next morning I tried it again. It seemed to have settled down a bit and was now merely going Psssssssssssssssssssssch, which was nevertheless about three times the force that we had before this new excitement.
And it's stayed that way. You turn on the tap, and water gushes out. It's like going back to the 1950s, in a really good way. I found myself singing a Cheery Fifties Song in the shower. All together now, come on, Buddy - -
Every day it's a-gettin' closer
Goin' faster than a roller coaster
Love like yours will surely come my way
A-hey, a-hey hey
Thank you, Water Engineers, I think I love you.
posted by Daphne at 7:51 pm
3 Comments:
Hi Daphne. What if a lonely water engineer reads your blog? Don't you think you might be raising his hopes only to dash them again?
Thank you for visiting my blog. Great to hear from you. Keep in touch.
Hang on, Daphne.......
- gurgling pipes
- heavy breathing
- whistling and howling
That's not your water system, that's you after you came back from your Bolton Abbey walk !!
Ian
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