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Gardening for angry water gods
Sep. 11th, 2013 11:44 amCan anyone recommend good flowers/ shrubs/trees for a tiered hillside garden facing west?
Tis a long and weary story, and this can only be a truncated version of it; beginning Maundy Thursday last, when a man from Thames Water asked us if we had a leak. We said no. He apologised, replaced our meter, and added with a troubled frown that maybe we should contact Thames Water. I did. Thames Water apologised for wasting our time; he had been sent to examine a leak further down the road and had come to the wrong house. Ah well.
Later, a leak appeared, cascading down the hill and pouring into the road. Thames Water told us it was our problem. A plumber magically appeared and told us it was definitely their problem. He didn't charge us for his time, bless him, and spoke to Thames Water telling them, in no uncertain terms, that this was an environmental health hazard, that they were liable, and they had to get here within half an hour. They listened to him, took him very seriously, and got here within three days.
Turned out it was a drain, a waste pipe. Not a sewage pipe, but still...they drained it every day for weeks, then they pushed investigative doodads down there; it was blocked. They pushed a camera down there; they lost it. When they found the camera, it couldn't take any photos because the pipe was blocked. It was decided that the camera could not help until the pipe was unblocked, but they couldn't unblock the drain because they couldn't get a photo of what was blocking it. We had lorries, we had trucks, we had pumps, we had pipes, we heard theories about facial wipes, theories about leaves, theories about tree roots,we may well have had NASA camped out here seeking extra-terrestrial explanations. It took a long time, but eventually, a strategy emerged:
It seemed a pipe had collapsed, the mystery of how notwithstanding. Thames Water agreed to fix the pipe free of charge and to reinstate the garden. To fix the pipe, a trench needed to be dug. They dug out all the trees and all the plants, to my very great woe, including a rather lovely old yellow rose, and a hedge that ensured privacy on one side.
The men who came to fix the trench found a New Damp Patch which they declared as a freshwater problem, and probably something we would have to pay for, and get sorted before they could continue fixing the wastewater drain. They issued this chirpy news just before downing tools and going home. They are wastewater men you see, a different breed.
Thames Water turned up and tried to tell us we would have to pay for repair to the freshwater drain. At this point, I got a bit ghetto and, shall we say, gently remonstrated with Thames Water, who agreed that they would repair the freshwater drain free of charge, and reinstate any concrete damage. Then they would get their wastewater men to return and repair the wastewater drain.
The freshwatermen repaired the freshwater drain, but it was decided to leave the concrete repair until the wastewater men had finished, for obvious reasons. Then the wastewater drain was repaired. Now all that remains is for the concrete to be reinstated by the freshwater men, and the plants to be reimbursed by the wastewater men. I keep checking our mail to see if ours is an Innsmouth postcode.
All this palaver leaves us with a rather interesting conundrum. We now have these quite pretty tiered stone walls with soil on and between them. I was thinking ferns because their roots are shallow, but suspect the garden gets too much sun in summer for that to work. Any gardeners out there with suggestions, I would be very grateful.
There's a gruesome explanation for the old 'London Bridge is falling down' ditty, when the question of why the bridge won't stay up is addressed with this solution 'Set a man to watch all night, watch all night, watch all night, set a man to watch all night, with a gay lady/dance over my lady.' Some think this refers to human sacrifice long ago, in much the same way as workmen were sometimes walled up in their handiwork to please the gods. Me, I think it was an act of despair perpetrated by those who had to deal with the precursors of Thames Water. Long ago when life was short and tempers were shorter, some riverside Celt heard the intake of breath and the shaking of a Roman gaffer's head once too often. If I find the remnants of their ancient struggle washed up under this hill somewhere, I won't be at all surprised.
Tis a long and weary story, and this can only be a truncated version of it; beginning Maundy Thursday last, when a man from Thames Water asked us if we had a leak. We said no. He apologised, replaced our meter, and added with a troubled frown that maybe we should contact Thames Water. I did. Thames Water apologised for wasting our time; he had been sent to examine a leak further down the road and had come to the wrong house. Ah well.
Later, a leak appeared, cascading down the hill and pouring into the road. Thames Water told us it was our problem. A plumber magically appeared and told us it was definitely their problem. He didn't charge us for his time, bless him, and spoke to Thames Water telling them, in no uncertain terms, that this was an environmental health hazard, that they were liable, and they had to get here within half an hour. They listened to him, took him very seriously, and got here within three days.
Turned out it was a drain, a waste pipe. Not a sewage pipe, but still...they drained it every day for weeks, then they pushed investigative doodads down there; it was blocked. They pushed a camera down there; they lost it. When they found the camera, it couldn't take any photos because the pipe was blocked. It was decided that the camera could not help until the pipe was unblocked, but they couldn't unblock the drain because they couldn't get a photo of what was blocking it. We had lorries, we had trucks, we had pumps, we had pipes, we heard theories about facial wipes, theories about leaves, theories about tree roots,we may well have had NASA camped out here seeking extra-terrestrial explanations. It took a long time, but eventually, a strategy emerged:
It seemed a pipe had collapsed, the mystery of how notwithstanding. Thames Water agreed to fix the pipe free of charge and to reinstate the garden. To fix the pipe, a trench needed to be dug. They dug out all the trees and all the plants, to my very great woe, including a rather lovely old yellow rose, and a hedge that ensured privacy on one side.
The men who came to fix the trench found a New Damp Patch which they declared as a freshwater problem, and probably something we would have to pay for, and get sorted before they could continue fixing the wastewater drain. They issued this chirpy news just before downing tools and going home. They are wastewater men you see, a different breed.
Thames Water turned up and tried to tell us we would have to pay for repair to the freshwater drain. At this point, I got a bit ghetto and, shall we say, gently remonstrated with Thames Water, who agreed that they would repair the freshwater drain free of charge, and reinstate any concrete damage. Then they would get their wastewater men to return and repair the wastewater drain.
The freshwatermen repaired the freshwater drain, but it was decided to leave the concrete repair until the wastewater men had finished, for obvious reasons. Then the wastewater drain was repaired. Now all that remains is for the concrete to be reinstated by the freshwater men, and the plants to be reimbursed by the wastewater men. I keep checking our mail to see if ours is an Innsmouth postcode.
All this palaver leaves us with a rather interesting conundrum. We now have these quite pretty tiered stone walls with soil on and between them. I was thinking ferns because their roots are shallow, but suspect the garden gets too much sun in summer for that to work. Any gardeners out there with suggestions, I would be very grateful.
There's a gruesome explanation for the old 'London Bridge is falling down' ditty, when the question of why the bridge won't stay up is addressed with this solution 'Set a man to watch all night, watch all night, watch all night, set a man to watch all night, with a gay lady/dance over my lady.' Some think this refers to human sacrifice long ago, in much the same way as workmen were sometimes walled up in their handiwork to please the gods. Me, I think it was an act of despair perpetrated by those who had to deal with the precursors of Thames Water. Long ago when life was short and tempers were shorter, some riverside Celt heard the intake of breath and the shaking of a Roman gaffer's head once too often. If I find the remnants of their ancient struggle washed up under this hill somewhere, I won't be at all surprised.
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