A time of leaks

Annie All Alone

It is a time of leaks, indicative of a time of reflective decay. First, the monitor on our oil tank needed a new battery - a simple job according to the manufacturer's instructions. Just unscrew the transmitter from the tank, remove four screws to take off the top, and replace the battery. No problem, and it worked fine. A few days later it stopped again. I repeated the process, but it was now full of water. Clearly the O-ring had unsealed. I stripped it down, cleaned it all, blew it for a while with a hair dryer, reseated the O-ring this time caked with grease to try to keep our moisture. Again, it worked fine for a few days. The plumber told us they often leak after they've been opened, so we sent for a new one which he fitted. Today that too has stopped working.

We had the plumber in yesterday because the kitchen tap had sprung a bad leak that drained into the cupboard. He brought a beautiful new tap, so that seems sorted. He has now gone on holiday but will sort the oil monitor when he comes back. Today, we found another leak round the sink in the bathroom, which had formed a tell-tale puddle on the floor, so we needed to find another plumber. He came within the hour, and diagnosed a leak from the waste exit point. Once such fittings were metal with brass nuts and thick rubber washers. Now they are thin Chinese plastic with O-rings like thin pieces of wool. He cleaned it all, but alas the weak plastic nut cracked as he tightened it. Being Saturday afternoon, he had to visit B&Q for a replacement and was forced to buy a complete sink drain and trap. Unfortunately, the new unit was even more flimsy than the older one and somehow the seal got damaged, so that too is leaking into the cupboard. He will now have to come back next week with a replacement unit, so in the meantime I have taped up the sink to remind us not to use the ensuite.

On a brighter note, Annie has discovered a new app for her iPhone: the ability to extract an individual from the background and is sending a batch of pictures she has produced. Also, the prednisolone steroids seem to be working. The diarrhoea has eased and my appetite improved, so probably the consultant was right that,  even though it was stopped in April, I had some form of delayed reaction to the immunotherapy - possibly a colitis of some kind. 

I used to write a lot of poetry, even seeing a number of pieces published in Literary Review. Following the generous comments to my new Sunflowers and another poem written at Haworth shortly after Ann and I met, I have dug out another older poem to ponder. So often have I floundered through life, wondering if I was able to move on, and each time Annie has been there to pull me through! Now she is there again, cheering me on to renew the fight a little longer. Thank you, Annie.

The Swimmer

I used to swim for my country – 

A few powerful strokes

and I was through.

Body thrust to the winning side,

every dive a winner.

Now I struggle to stay afloat,

flailing in their shallows,

lungs gasping,

I flounder slowly across

thinking I shall never reach that shore,

ready to yield and sink by the moment.

Until a helping arm grasps and pulls me out

and I lie, spent upon the side,

without a cheer for England.

 JHM