Water, water

I walked round again taking photographs of the rooms in more detail so that Mrs S and I could discuss just what we wanted to do with each. In the kitchen I idly turned on the tap. Nothing happened, the sink remaining as dry as a camel's throat. I stood there for a minute or two, puzzling. Then it dawned on me. The water supply had been reconnected, but the stopcock was still turned off. Finding no sign of such a beast anywhere in the kitchen, I went outside and turned my attention to the three outhouses that stood in a row, just like joined-up writing, between the kitchen and the well.

In the first outhouse I quickly found the pipe taking water into the kitchen and was thankful to see that it had been lagged to a reasonable standard. The pipe ran along the back wall and through into the next outhouse, but there was no stopcock. I forgot to duck as I came out of that shed and received a nasty blow to the head, but I plunged resolutely into the next outhouse. Once again I found the lagged supply pipe, but no stopcock. Back out, remembering to duck just in time, and into the third outhouse. I peered into the gloom and decided that the torch from my car might be helpful, even if the batteries were about to give up on me. Once again I remembered to duck. With the near-defunct torch it was quite easy to find the pipe again – I did have a pretty good idea of where it should be – but no stopcock. There was a tap from which to fill a watering-can, in fact there were two of them, neither producing any water, but no stopcock. Stumbling into the darkest corner, I saw that the pipe went through the wall into the well, which was right in the corner of the courtyard and therefore at the edge of our land.

Sure enough, the pipe came into the side wall of the well several feet below the top. It then appeared to plunge straight down. Sticking my head down as far as I dared, I could just distinguish what looked like a pump, with the supply pipe going further down from the bottom of this machinery. It occurred to me that the pump might be stuck and just needed a knock with a broom handle, but I had neither broom nor handle and even if I had, it wouldn't have reached.

By now it was nigh-on dark so I decided to abandon the search for the day and start again next morning. I would have an early breakfast – I was pretty certain that the hotel started serving at seven o'clock. To be strictly accurate, they didn't actually serve at all: it was self-service. Anyway, I would have an early breakfast and be back at Les Lavandes before eight o'clock with suitable clothes for dirty work. The gasman was due at ten and I hoped to get a good start before he arrived.