When we first arrived at La Feuillade we refered to it as Paradise (tongue in cheek). The land was beautiful and bountifiul ; what with walnuts, sweet chestnuts, puff balls a plenty (there is a very scrotal theme going on here!) and recently, more Kiwis than you will find in Auckland (more of this later). But as we all know Paradise is never what it at first seems.
Last week I visited a place alien to those with scrotae. A place with Cilit Bang (something to be found on a dutch prostitutes menu perhaps, main course of course), limescale remover, scrubbies, and Vanish. I ventured under the sink. Why I hear ask do you go there? That is not a place for men.
As you know we are metered for water here and being frugal, having a leaking tap under the sink is not good sense, financially.
Having played Monsiuer Le Plomberie back in the UK on many times. I thought 'Pas de Problem' .
Error.
Cue PIFIFF (" Plumbing in France is Fucking Frustrating"). I grabbed my circular pipe cutter, and the leaky tap, after a little resistence was excised from its moist location. Victory is mine. But no. The Frenchie's plumbing doesn't fight fair. The inlet was 20mm, the outlet was 22mm. I had heard rumour of these different sizes but had paid no heed. After all, we all know, size isn't important.
Three hours later, 50 miles plus and having visited 4 different outlets I returned home with a 20/22mm connexion and appropiate other bits.During these three hours I saw many a shrug of Gallic shoulders, accompanied by the utterance 'Desole',or ' Quel dommage' and learnt that 20mm is no longer available.It is only found in old houses. Very helpful/useful. But finally (with help of Batiland* a DIY outlet not a country for homosexuals) I can see and end in sight to this unecessary water loss. But how naive I was.The 20mm pipe continued to drip. Mocking me with its wettness. To solder copper pipe it has to be dry.
Eventually I conceded defeat.
Call for Yannik. ( he cleaned my stack 2 days earlier).
Much to our surprise he appeared a mere 1/2 hour later. A French Chevalier in his gleaming white van.
After explaining the problem he disappeared behind my boiler, unconnected a pipe and blew out the offending l'eau.
I showed him my presoldered connectors and my compression joints. We took it in turns,and he showed me how to do it properley ( copper connectors and manually applied solder)
We shared a special moment when finally we were plumbed and sec. A cup of coffee and he was gone, in to the night.
But it wasn't over yet.
It leaked.I couldn't call him back. It was one of my joints which oozed.
So after flooding the kitchen, drenching the back of the boiler and the Chrissie decs, and eventually applying a touch more solder and heat to the offending joint, I claimed victory.
But as some geezer said somewhere ' The battle may be won but the war is not over'. I fear that the spectre that is French plumbing will return, stronger and more frustrating.But this time I have Yannik's number to call, and call it, I will. For as we all know life is too short to be spending time blowing old French plumbing behind one's German boiler.
Now, those Kiwis I mentioned earlier.
We have a glut. We have more taut testicles than a knackers yard. Kiwi fruit when not ripe are very firm, brown and hairy.
Ma has told me how to make them soft. But I have no recipes for Kiwi jam? Kiwi vodka? Kiwi jelly? Kiwi soap?
Aidez moi SVP.
* : Bati is caribbean slang for gay
Last week I visited a place alien to those with scrotae. A place with Cilit Bang (something to be found on a dutch prostitutes menu perhaps, main course of course), limescale remover, scrubbies, and Vanish. I ventured under the sink. Why I hear ask do you go there? That is not a place for men.
As you know we are metered for water here and being frugal, having a leaking tap under the sink is not good sense, financially.
Having played Monsiuer Le Plomberie back in the UK on many times. I thought 'Pas de Problem' .
Error.
Cue PIFIFF (" Plumbing in France is Fucking Frustrating"). I grabbed my circular pipe cutter, and the leaky tap, after a little resistence was excised from its moist location. Victory is mine. But no. The Frenchie's plumbing doesn't fight fair. The inlet was 20mm, the outlet was 22mm. I had heard rumour of these different sizes but had paid no heed. After all, we all know, size isn't important.
Three hours later, 50 miles plus and having visited 4 different outlets I returned home with a 20/22mm connexion and appropiate other bits.During these three hours I saw many a shrug of Gallic shoulders, accompanied by the utterance 'Desole',or ' Quel dommage' and learnt that 20mm is no longer available.It is only found in old houses. Very helpful/useful. But finally (with help of Batiland* a DIY outlet not a country for homosexuals) I can see and end in sight to this unecessary water loss. But how naive I was.The 20mm pipe continued to drip. Mocking me with its wettness. To solder copper pipe it has to be dry.
Eventually I conceded defeat.
Call for Yannik. ( he cleaned my stack 2 days earlier).
Much to our surprise he appeared a mere 1/2 hour later. A French Chevalier in his gleaming white van.
After explaining the problem he disappeared behind my boiler, unconnected a pipe and blew out the offending l'eau.
I showed him my presoldered connectors and my compression joints. We took it in turns,and he showed me how to do it properley ( copper connectors and manually applied solder)
We shared a special moment when finally we were plumbed and sec. A cup of coffee and he was gone, in to the night.
But it wasn't over yet.
It leaked.I couldn't call him back. It was one of my joints which oozed.
So after flooding the kitchen, drenching the back of the boiler and the Chrissie decs, and eventually applying a touch more solder and heat to the offending joint, I claimed victory.
But as some geezer said somewhere ' The battle may be won but the war is not over'. I fear that the spectre that is French plumbing will return, stronger and more frustrating.But this time I have Yannik's number to call, and call it, I will. For as we all know life is too short to be spending time blowing old French plumbing behind one's German boiler.
Now, those Kiwis I mentioned earlier.
We have a glut. We have more taut testicles than a knackers yard. Kiwi fruit when not ripe are very firm, brown and hairy.
Ma has told me how to make them soft. But I have no recipes for Kiwi jam? Kiwi vodka? Kiwi jelly? Kiwi soap?
Aidez moi SVP.
* : Bati is caribbean slang for gay
