Potholing at home !
Potholing at home !
I have booked this week and next as leave to catch up on some diy tasks, painting, decorating and fixing stuff back on that the kids have broken off.
Anyway, prepping the hall stairs and landing and the missus says that the kitchen stinks and obviously I am the source of the odour, normally I am the first to admit its me but it wasn’t so I went to sniff the kitchen and sure enough it honked, a stronger version of what I had been noticing the last few weeks, I had been thinking that the dog must need another course of Antibiotics but as the dog was outside and it was wafting from the cooker as well I couldn’t really pin it on the dog.
It was an earthy, musty evil smell whereas the dog smell is much cheesier and almost pleasant in comparison to this, I then realised what the smell was, some years ago a pipe under the kitchen had detached itself due to shoddy workmanship following some building work we had done, the sink was moved from an outside wall to an inner one and as such required several feet of precarious drainage under the floor and one of the push jointed pipes had come adrift spewing several weeks of kitchen waste water into the floor space and muggins had to go and reattach it.
So being clever I though this time I would use the trap in the kitchen rather than the one in the hall cupboard about fifteen feet away, so I pull up the lino and the piece of hardboard, remove the floorboards and voila there it is a bit like that scene from Ghostbusters 2 when they dig the street up to reveal a river of slime, 2 inches of scummy water full of rice, carrots and all sorts of stuff, a sort of broth, primordial soup perhaps ?
So I have to wait for the missus to reappear as she had buggered of to do some sewing or something, she comes back and accuses me of having spent all day watching Discovery and wanking, I protest and say it wasn’t all day and anyway all the new door handles are fitted as she had requested.
So I go and put some old clothes on and get my torch having turned the electricity off, usually I am not some careful but even I am not so daft to go crawling through water in a 1930's house with wires hanging down, I lower myself into the kitchen trap and my wife is watching this saying there is no way but hey presto like an Octopus or slug the waistline is squeezed through the trap but then my shoulders lodge, the builder who did the work I remember had sent his much slimmer mate down and so the trap was probably only a 40 inch chest size, I wiggle and try to get through one arm at a time but then thought better of it as I may be able to get down but not back up, plus I visualized my missus laughing with some firemen before thanking then for getting me out, just before she lays into me about the bill for a new kitchen floor after the Firemen hacked it about to free me. I also visualized the local newspaper article about the incident, front page so extricated myself and most of my pants from the hole and listened to the 'I cant believe you actually thought you would get through there' speech
So, hall cupboard it is, the hole being comparatively generous compared to the one in the kitchen and I just sat down in it and did some contortions to point my six foot, fifteen stone frame in the correct direction for the crawl to the broken pipe, obviously not having warmed up for my impromptu underfloor yoga I got cramp in various limbs which made turning even more difficult, bad enough given the rats nest of cables old and new, heating pipes (some hot) and 1930’s *** packets, in fact, do builders even if they don’t smoke have to deposit a period *** packet in any given construction, along with a copy of the mornings paper ? I just considered myself lucky that Fred West and co hadn’t built it even though it smelt like it.
So pointing in the correct direction I continued my journey from under the hall to under the kitchen, to the waters edge which sounds picturesque, it wasn’t, last thing you want to do with a pool of scummy water is crawl through it, especially when due to height restrictions there isn’t enough clearance to keep your nether regions dry, never mind the rest.
So I decided I was all tough and that, what’s a bit of smelly water, I could have been a marine and they would have me doing much worse than this, then I remember that there is no way I could have been a Marine, apart from crap eyesight and an aversion to any enforced physical regime I am a bit of a coward. So I just push myself on into the water and f*ck me was it cold, I started doing the funny breathing that cold water causes which makes me think that will make my heart stop or something and I worry how p1ssed of the missus will be if she has to have the floor pulled up to remove my body. Now I drag my lower areas through it, an interesting sensation, like the complete opposite of heated seats and it made me realize I needed a slash.
I get to the pipe and sure enough its parted company, I grasp it to put it back together only to find a huuuge slug on the bit of the pipe I couldn’t see, I should have expected it seeing as it was teaming with them down there, I mean for Slugs, cold, wet with all the rotting food you can eat, it must be like an all inclusive, all they needed were Man United or Engerland nylon shirts and Amarillo playing then the image would have been complete, anyway, I wiped the squished Slug off on a brick and shouted my missus to chuck down the gaffer tape with which I was going to make sure it didn’t come adrift again with, I didn’t carry it with me as it was easier to drop it into the kitchen hole, I shouted her and no answer, I shouted again and still no answer, turns out she had skulked off for a poo and was reading her book on the upstairs toilet ! cheers, fifteen minute later she appears and says, ‘did you want me’, ‘yes I f*ckin did, now chuck me that tape’, ‘do I have to it stinks’
I am there having spent the best part of thirty minutes in foul water and its too revolting to bend over the hole, good job I was incapacitated, the tape appears proffered on a pair of massive barbecue tongues, in a similar manner to the Sausage on the opening credits to Grange Hill, it made me jump, a difficult procedure when face down with only 2 inches to spare. I then requested a cloth to wipe the grease and slug residue off which was met with more huffing at yet another inconvenience requiring moving **** from chair in front of computer. I then decided I really needed a p1ss, I told the wife and she said hurry up, I then thought why not just have a ****, its not like I will spoil the water or anything so I just let it go and you know what, it was bloody lovely, nice and warm, ahhh, warmth and relief its not so bad under here after all, I may come down here more often and then it went cold again, I told my wife what I had done and she wasn’t pleased, cant really see what difference it makes, half a pint of sterile urine in several gallons of foul slimy water but then there’s the females understanding of physics to contend with (worth a thread on its own) and I know for weeks she will be able to smell a really strong smell of **** in the kitchen despite her stinking dog being sat in the room decomposing.
I lashed it back together and rearranged the pile of rubble that the builders charged us six grand to erect, 3 bricks and a piece of 2 by 1 about 2 foot long, real pros these builders. I then made my way back on my belly like some bizarre subterranean man/hovercraft hybrid, hey don’t knock it, its way better than the very similar in concept film Descent.
I get to the exit hole and receive instructions to leave my clothing in the hole for later retrieval to avoid any unnecessary dripping, I kick my trainers off and I will have to accept that this is possibly the last outing for my garden trainers, they have survived drunken bonfires, many a dog turd, jet washing, car cleaning and all manner of chemicals but this may be too much for them to bear and I don’t think she will want the evil things in her new posh 700 quid washer. I then remove my jogging bottoms along with my underpants and when I sit up and get my top half out of the hole I remove my t shirt, just as I drop it back into the hole and start to emerge she appears to tell me off for dripping, and then bursts into laughter as I get out covered head to toe in slime, gravel and my own p1ss for that matter, obviously I was in the mood for this and I had a cracking headache for some reason as well so I told her to f*ck off but she started laughing even more when I stepped into the hall bollock naked and filthy and proceeded to trip over a roller boot that had been in the hall cupboard that had been cleared out to allow me access and land flat on my ****, ha ha ****in ha.
I suppose it must have been funny, sat here nice and warm several hours later, I can forgive it to a certain extent as its not everyday you see a naked filthy fat bloke appear from under your floor, I say bloke but she wasn’t all that sure, she made a point of saying how tiny my **** looked, I mean I have never claimed anything above average but I can hold my own…. I have to agree that it did indeed look less than impressive but given that it had spent a fair amount of time submerged in cold water I can forgive it, in fact I am grateful that as given my usual luck one of the mums from school or a female neighbour would usually barge in at that point, small mercies and all that, I mean it would be typical for one to appear when you are not at your best, never when you are at that sweet point between dormant and a semi where it looks almost presentable !
So three showers later and I think I am almost free of odour and gravel.
Anyway, prepping the hall stairs and landing and the missus says that the kitchen stinks and obviously I am the source of the odour, normally I am the first to admit its me but it wasn’t so I went to sniff the kitchen and sure enough it honked, a stronger version of what I had been noticing the last few weeks, I had been thinking that the dog must need another course of Antibiotics but as the dog was outside and it was wafting from the cooker as well I couldn’t really pin it on the dog.
It was an earthy, musty evil smell whereas the dog smell is much cheesier and almost pleasant in comparison to this, I then realised what the smell was, some years ago a pipe under the kitchen had detached itself due to shoddy workmanship following some building work we had done, the sink was moved from an outside wall to an inner one and as such required several feet of precarious drainage under the floor and one of the push jointed pipes had come adrift spewing several weeks of kitchen waste water into the floor space and muggins had to go and reattach it.
So being clever I though this time I would use the trap in the kitchen rather than the one in the hall cupboard about fifteen feet away, so I pull up the lino and the piece of hardboard, remove the floorboards and voila there it is a bit like that scene from Ghostbusters 2 when they dig the street up to reveal a river of slime, 2 inches of scummy water full of rice, carrots and all sorts of stuff, a sort of broth, primordial soup perhaps ?
So I have to wait for the missus to reappear as she had buggered of to do some sewing or something, she comes back and accuses me of having spent all day watching Discovery and wanking, I protest and say it wasn’t all day and anyway all the new door handles are fitted as she had requested.
So I go and put some old clothes on and get my torch having turned the electricity off, usually I am not some careful but even I am not so daft to go crawling through water in a 1930's house with wires hanging down, I lower myself into the kitchen trap and my wife is watching this saying there is no way but hey presto like an Octopus or slug the waistline is squeezed through the trap but then my shoulders lodge, the builder who did the work I remember had sent his much slimmer mate down and so the trap was probably only a 40 inch chest size, I wiggle and try to get through one arm at a time but then thought better of it as I may be able to get down but not back up, plus I visualized my missus laughing with some firemen before thanking then for getting me out, just before she lays into me about the bill for a new kitchen floor after the Firemen hacked it about to free me. I also visualized the local newspaper article about the incident, front page so extricated myself and most of my pants from the hole and listened to the 'I cant believe you actually thought you would get through there' speech
So, hall cupboard it is, the hole being comparatively generous compared to the one in the kitchen and I just sat down in it and did some contortions to point my six foot, fifteen stone frame in the correct direction for the crawl to the broken pipe, obviously not having warmed up for my impromptu underfloor yoga I got cramp in various limbs which made turning even more difficult, bad enough given the rats nest of cables old and new, heating pipes (some hot) and 1930’s *** packets, in fact, do builders even if they don’t smoke have to deposit a period *** packet in any given construction, along with a copy of the mornings paper ? I just considered myself lucky that Fred West and co hadn’t built it even though it smelt like it.
So pointing in the correct direction I continued my journey from under the hall to under the kitchen, to the waters edge which sounds picturesque, it wasn’t, last thing you want to do with a pool of scummy water is crawl through it, especially when due to height restrictions there isn’t enough clearance to keep your nether regions dry, never mind the rest.
So I decided I was all tough and that, what’s a bit of smelly water, I could have been a marine and they would have me doing much worse than this, then I remember that there is no way I could have been a Marine, apart from crap eyesight and an aversion to any enforced physical regime I am a bit of a coward. So I just push myself on into the water and f*ck me was it cold, I started doing the funny breathing that cold water causes which makes me think that will make my heart stop or something and I worry how p1ssed of the missus will be if she has to have the floor pulled up to remove my body. Now I drag my lower areas through it, an interesting sensation, like the complete opposite of heated seats and it made me realize I needed a slash.
I get to the pipe and sure enough its parted company, I grasp it to put it back together only to find a huuuge slug on the bit of the pipe I couldn’t see, I should have expected it seeing as it was teaming with them down there, I mean for Slugs, cold, wet with all the rotting food you can eat, it must be like an all inclusive, all they needed were Man United or Engerland nylon shirts and Amarillo playing then the image would have been complete, anyway, I wiped the squished Slug off on a brick and shouted my missus to chuck down the gaffer tape with which I was going to make sure it didn’t come adrift again with, I didn’t carry it with me as it was easier to drop it into the kitchen hole, I shouted her and no answer, I shouted again and still no answer, turns out she had skulked off for a poo and was reading her book on the upstairs toilet ! cheers, fifteen minute later she appears and says, ‘did you want me’, ‘yes I f*ckin did, now chuck me that tape’, ‘do I have to it stinks’
I am there having spent the best part of thirty minutes in foul water and its too revolting to bend over the hole, good job I was incapacitated, the tape appears proffered on a pair of massive barbecue tongues, in a similar manner to the Sausage on the opening credits to Grange Hill, it made me jump, a difficult procedure when face down with only 2 inches to spare. I then requested a cloth to wipe the grease and slug residue off which was met with more huffing at yet another inconvenience requiring moving **** from chair in front of computer. I then decided I really needed a p1ss, I told the wife and she said hurry up, I then thought why not just have a ****, its not like I will spoil the water or anything so I just let it go and you know what, it was bloody lovely, nice and warm, ahhh, warmth and relief its not so bad under here after all, I may come down here more often and then it went cold again, I told my wife what I had done and she wasn’t pleased, cant really see what difference it makes, half a pint of sterile urine in several gallons of foul slimy water but then there’s the females understanding of physics to contend with (worth a thread on its own) and I know for weeks she will be able to smell a really strong smell of **** in the kitchen despite her stinking dog being sat in the room decomposing.
I lashed it back together and rearranged the pile of rubble that the builders charged us six grand to erect, 3 bricks and a piece of 2 by 1 about 2 foot long, real pros these builders. I then made my way back on my belly like some bizarre subterranean man/hovercraft hybrid, hey don’t knock it, its way better than the very similar in concept film Descent.
I get to the exit hole and receive instructions to leave my clothing in the hole for later retrieval to avoid any unnecessary dripping, I kick my trainers off and I will have to accept that this is possibly the last outing for my garden trainers, they have survived drunken bonfires, many a dog turd, jet washing, car cleaning and all manner of chemicals but this may be too much for them to bear and I don’t think she will want the evil things in her new posh 700 quid washer. I then remove my jogging bottoms along with my underpants and when I sit up and get my top half out of the hole I remove my t shirt, just as I drop it back into the hole and start to emerge she appears to tell me off for dripping, and then bursts into laughter as I get out covered head to toe in slime, gravel and my own p1ss for that matter, obviously I was in the mood for this and I had a cracking headache for some reason as well so I told her to f*ck off but she started laughing even more when I stepped into the hall bollock naked and filthy and proceeded to trip over a roller boot that had been in the hall cupboard that had been cleared out to allow me access and land flat on my ****, ha ha ****in ha.
I suppose it must have been funny, sat here nice and warm several hours later, I can forgive it to a certain extent as its not everyday you see a naked filthy fat bloke appear from under your floor, I say bloke but she wasn’t all that sure, she made a point of saying how tiny my **** looked, I mean I have never claimed anything above average but I can hold my own…. I have to agree that it did indeed look less than impressive but given that it had spent a fair amount of time submerged in cold water I can forgive it, in fact I am grateful that as given my usual luck one of the mums from school or a female neighbour would usually barge in at that point, small mercies and all that, I mean it would be typical for one to appear when you are not at your best, never when you are at that sweet point between dormant and a semi where it looks almost presentable !
So three showers later and I think I am almost free of odour and gravel.
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Note to self:
Before reading J4CKO's post:I must remember to get one of those big thick leather weight-lifter belts and a hernia support to wear or I am going to do myself a serious injury one day.
Before reading J4CKO's post:I must remember to get one of those big thick leather weight-lifter belts and a hernia support to wear or I am going to do myself a serious injury one day.
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