My neighbours and I were left with no water this week. Why was I the only one who seemed annoyed? | Adrian Chiles
On Monday morning, the water coming out of my tap was but a dribble. Disappointing. I checked the water company website and there was something about some problem somewhere that was being resolved. It was sorted. Then Tuesday evening, uh-oh, not even a dribble. Not again, surely. Back to the water company website which, in its own way, is rather helpful. But only in the same way that train companies have got better at owning their shortcomings with the efficiency of the Delay Repay system. Nice as this is, it would be nice if they were as good at stopping problems happening as they are at keeping you across how they are supposedly solving them or, in the case of rail companies anyway, bunging you some money to cheer you up.
Here’s what the website said: “Our specialist team have located a large burst water pipe causing no water, low pressure and flooding to the road …” It was the “specialist team” bit that irritated me, perhaps unreasonably. Specialist as opposed to what? Generalist? A couple of blokes who happened to be in the office and set off with some divining rods for a look around? Pardon my irritation but I’d had my hair cut in the afternoon and, you know how it is, you need a shower otherwise it’s a long, itchy night. My mood wasn’t improved by a couple of American students from South Dakota we had staying (long story) who had never been out of the US before. They were having a bit of a whine about the water, but soon gave up, obviously pitying us living in such an obviously backward country.
Come 10pm, I popped out to the garage for some bottled water, joining a long queue of people carrying as much bottled water as they could manage. And here’s the extraordinary thing: no one betrayed any sense of surprise or annoyance at the situation. No rolling of eyes, tutting or, God forbid, speaking ill of the water company. Not a whiff of what you might call Dunkirk spirit. Just nothing. Not even quiet resignation. We must conclude that this is the new normal.
Back in the flat, with one of the young Americans looking on in fascination, I rinsed my itchy barnet with the contents of a small bottle of Buxton sparkling water. He sloped off to bed. Sad for me, sad for us all. Oh, the shame of it.
