Yesterday, Daughter and I came home after our respective long days to find that a water main had blown directly in front of our house. Now, if you’ve lived any length of time in London, you come to realize that this is a rather regular event, as most of the water system relies on old Victorian clay pipes; however, it’s never happened in our street before.
Luckily, by the time we got home, the water company had already started repairs, and our house came out relatively unscathed, given that the pipe burst about six inches in front of our driveway, though not everyone in the street was that lucky. So, imagine if you will, coming home to a cold house on a dreary day, gasping for a cup of tea, and there’s no water. Stupidly, I also never filled our reserve containers back up after we moved. It made sense to have stored water in the desert, but in Britain, well, suffice to say that I never got around to it.
We were without water all evening yesterday, and thankfully the water workers continued long after we went to bed to restore water to our house. I managed to snag enough water from an unaffected house down the street to get us through some version of dinner and teeth brushing, but it was a less than ideal response to the situation.
So, yes, today I will be digging around for our spare water containers and filling them up. Just because we don’t have doodlebugs dropping through the roof doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t be at least somewhat prepared for minor disasters.