Topping the tank with country koha
Water. Everyone wants to tax it, clean it up, bottle it or irrigate with it. I’d just be happy if we had some.
‘‘Hey love, the tanks are nearly empty,’’ The Bloke hollered on Sunday.
Crap. Just as well I didn’t wash the cow shit off the car then.
And indeed he was right. I climbed up on the top and inserted my head into the black abyss. The assorted-detritus-offthe-roof-that-we-don’t-talk-aboutbut-should-really-clean-out in the bottom of the tank was visible. No dead animals floating about though, so that was a bonus.
It’s not unusual to have possum or rat flavoured water coming out of the taps when you have to harvest God’s wees off the roof to replenish the household supply.
I should have seen this coming really. It hadn’t rained in some time despite the fact it’s the middle of winter and The Bloke’s obsessive compulsive clothes washing disorder has taken a toll on the tideline in the tanks hidden at the back of the house.
Not that I’m complaining. Every load of washing he does is one I don’t have to do.
Buying water and getting it carted to this neck of the woods is a costly exercise, so it was time for some Kiwi ingenuity to kick in. A pump was acquired from a farmer up the road on the proviso that when it was returned it would be accompanied by a 24 pack. Country koha at it’s finest.
The pump had had sheep dip through it, but The Bloke said he would flush it out with some water before using it.
I’m feeling reassured that there’s no chance of us suffering from itch mite this summer now.
Some 1000 litre containers were ‘borrowed’ and water was pumped in the dark hours from somewhere I can’t mention because it’s probably not legal to take water from there without consulting with iwi and DOC or getting a resource consent.
Back in the days before health and safety, the local volunteer fire fighters were the first port of call when the tanks got low.
Not that it happened that often. Summers were long and hot, but gardens were watered infrequently and if you wanted a bath you jumped in the river - back before Bathing Standards.
Now households are running dishwashers, doing a million loads of washing, and in some parts irrigating lawns to keep them lush instead of letting them burn off for the summer months to save on lawn mowing time.
Before water testing became A Thing, the brigade would fill the tanker from the local creek and pump it into your tanks for you.
It gave them the chance to make sure their gear was still working if it had been a while since the last call out, and also the chance to have a few quiet ales at the station afterwards.
The cost? The good old 24 pack. I’ll drink to that.
It’s not unusual to have possum or rat flavoured water coming out of the taps... ‘‘Back in the days before health and safety, the local volunteer fire fighters were the first port of call when the tanks got low.’’