Yesterday morning began with dark clouds, and a feeling of doom. If it's not one thing it's another. First Brexit, then Covid, then a burst bloody pipe! As they say, bad things arrive in threes.
Just to make matters worse, the burst was about a metre underground, somewhere between the meter on the lawn (where our plumber is, above), and the interior on/off tap. We'd imagined diggers, piles of earth, and mess mess and more mess.
Jean-Pierre (our plumber) is a bloody genius. Rather than dig up the whole garden, he passed a new pipe inside the burst one, connected it up, and Bob's your uncle. Of course it was a tad more complicated than that, but basically that's it.... invisible, painless, mending.
He's a wonderful chap our Jean-Pierre, he's the plumbing equivalent of one of those small country car mechanics who can fix anything with a good kick and a length of wire.
We are so lucky to have him. Thank you, thank you, thank you. You cannot imagine the feelings of relief we felt!
"The hills are alive, with the sound of running water, tra la la....."