The irony of returning from a trip to the French Lakes and find we have no water in the house was not lost on me. But what is surprising is how life drastically changes without running water. No lavender baths, no easy way to brush your teeth, no cleansing of grubby children after a four-hour car journey, no washing machine, dishwasher, no glass of water to take to bed, no running water for Max the cat to drink (he is furious).
Even Rupert, who has just written a book about water so is well aware of its importance, was amazed. “I feel terrible,” he declared this morning after an evening and night without water. “I can’t believe how not having water affects everything you do.”
It is horrible not to be able to wash rasberry jam off the children’s hands or wash your face before going to bed (not to mention horribly ageing, I read somewhere that if you sleep with your make-up on you age 10 days, luckily I had an alternative cleanser to hand).
We are back to normal now, except the dishwasher, which has packed up. I don’t blame it, after a day and a half of washing the dishes I know how it feels.
I am adopting a Zen attitude (partly as am very excited by the news that Amazon has sold out of To Hell in High Heels) and anyway I find that whenever I go away I come back to some slight problem, be it a nasty letter from the bank or a dead mouse in my sink, or possibly both.
We had a lovely time, as you will see from the pics, so it was worth it.
Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2008