By a strange calendrical coincidence – or what Carl Jung might have called a Synchronicity – nine years ago, almost to the day, I wrote a post entitled That sinking feeling, in which I described our need to call a plumber because of a blocked kitchen sink.

Well, guess what – it has happened again! What is it about the time of my birthday that causes sinks to become blocked?

That question is not serious, of course, and I do not really believe that my birthday has anything to do with the matter though Dr Jung might question why, in that case, I even bother to mention it!

This snk has always been a slow emptier and we have treated it carefully because of this. For example, we never empty the teapot into the sink but always into a sieve which we then empty into the bin. So tea leaves are not to blame.

We have occasionbally tried pouring one of those chemical sink unblocker products into the outflow in the hope of improving the slow emptying, but to no avail. As washer-up in chief in our household, I have learned to live with its slowness and had I gone on doing so, all might still be well.

Unfortunately, I took it into my head to do a little home plumbing. Rooting around in the cupboard underneath the sink, I found the plunger. You know the sort of thing: a stick with a rubber cup at when end. Place this over the plughole and press down repeatedly (not forgetting to block the overflow hole with a wet cloth!). The idea is that the pressure caused by this action will free any blockage. It is a simple remedy and often effective.

“Did it work?” you ask. No, it did not. In fact, it made things worse by blocking the sink almost completely! How foolish did I feel? Very.

This disaster occurred on Sunday, so there was nothing to be done then. I had to wait until Monday morning before I could call for help. This involves me phoning a body called Partners for Improvement – Islington.

Partners take care of repairs and maintenance to properties rented to tenants by Islington Council. I have to say that I have always found them courteous, helpful and efficient. My call was answered by a polite and helpful assistant who sympathised with my predicament and put me on hold while looking for a plumber to do the work. Blocked sinks, I was gratified to hear, count as “urgent” and must be dealt with speedily. An appointment was arranged for Tuesday afernoon (today).

In the meantime, we had to manage as best we could. Water did in fact run out of the sink, though with agonizing slowness. This fact enabled me at least to wash the dishes yesterrday morning and today.

As I have mentioned elsewhere, Partners never give you a definite time for a job. They specify a morning or an afternoon and that’s it. Reasonable, I suppose, as it allows their repair personnel to schedule a day’s jobs in the most effeicient order, with a view to geographical distribution. On this occasion, I await the plumber’s call any time between 12 noon and 5 pm.

I shall now have lunch and report on progress later!

Later…

It was about 2pm when the plumber rang the doorbell. For a greeting, he made do with the phrase “Blocked sink?” and so I led him to view the corpus delicti.

He had come prepared with a weapon that put my poor plunger in the shade. One might describe it as a concertina on a stick. Partially filling the sink, he placed this instrument against the plughole and commenced pumping.

Time passed…

“What do you use this sink for?” he enquired, ominously, at one point.

I had brief visions of maniacal tenants pouring, paint, cement and acid-dissolved corpses down the sink but quickly dismissed these.

“Oh, you know, washing the dishes, that sort of thing,” I managed, plaintively.

More pumping and running of taps ensued. The plumber was a big fellow and I couldn’t see round him to the sink. I had to judge progress by sound alone. At first, things didn’t seems to be going well. Every time he turned on the tap, there was a plashy sound as of water meeting water. After several more pumpings, however, I thought to hear water tumbling into an empty sink.

Having contemplated the results of his labours for a while, the plumber turned to me and advised that I give the sink a good cleam to get rid of the limescale etc. Was this solid practical advice or just an attempt to make me feel bad? Either way, the job was done and the plumber departed.

I of course had to try the sink for myself, filling it to the brim with water and then pulling the plug. The water ran away in the leisurely fashion to which I am accustomed. If I had hoped for an improvement in the flow, I was disappointed, but it is at least as good as it was before and with that I remain satisfied.