The Words of the Mouth

by Ronald Smith

  *******

  I had been shown how to do water divining with a pendulum, by a bloke who worked for the Gas Board and used it to find pipes, and I found that the front garden was covering an underground water system, and the water table was only down about two feet because of the burn that flowed past. Eventually, the pendulum revealed a spot between two springs where we dug the hole and laid the concrete foundations.

  Then we dug trenches for the drainage system to carry away rainwater and sewage from all the buildings, and to hold the water supply pipes and electricity cables. The yard had been an old road and was metalled with strongly compacted stones, so hard, in fact, that the JCB broke its hydraulics on them. We had to use pickaxes and shovels, backbreaking labour which took months.

  As the cottages and the Mill were higher than the farmhouse, we had to dig down considerably to get the minimum run of one in forty through the flat front garden, so the water could run freely to the septic tank, and from it to the burn.

  However, the tank was lower than the burn, and because of this we had to dig across the road and through a neighbour's garden to get the correct drop into the burn lower downstream.

  Not having a proper measure, we used a spirit level. Digging a trench across a road involves a lot of red tape which we short-circuited by unofficially getting road signs; it took us one day to cross the road and another to reach the burn. The drain was only two inches above water level, and when we later surveyed the trench, we found we had done it to the exact minimum drop, which was absurdly accurate luck considering that we had only used a spirit .level, and made me feel it was clear sailing ahead.

  I had consulted planners and had the local water inspector come out to check the drains and pipes as we worked. After we had built manholes for access, I asked the Water Board inspector to approve our work.

  The building regulations are like the Bible, in that you can interpret them any way you please. Throughout most of the country, a one-half inch water supply pipe is OK, but in Fife it must be three-quarters of an inch.

  We had put in half inch pipes.

  "Well, that'll have to come out for a bloody start," the inspector said.

  I stared at him, aghast, "What do you mean? You saw me putting that pipe in."

  "Ah, but you never asked me if it was the right size, didya?" He sneered and laughed.

  'This guy hates me' flashed through my mind; 'I don't know why, but he hates me.' If I argue I'll only make it worse. If I try to bribe him, he'll bust me. There was fuck all I could do.

  I walked away, filled with a seething rage. This was the worst.

  Later I phoned the area manager. "I suppose you know your inspector was at the Mill today and refused to pass my water supply pipes?"

  "Oh yes, I know about that."

  "Before I tell you what I'm going to do, can you please answer a few questions? Can I appeal against this decision?"

  "Oh yes, you can apply to the Secretary of State for Scotland, but it'll take five years, and you won't be allowed to live in the house until it's gone through; and I can tell you now that you won't win your appeal, anyway."

  "Isn't there anything I can do about it?"

  "No, nothing."

  "Fine," I said. "You've heard the story about the straw that broke the camel's back? Well, I'm the camel and you're the straw. There's been a lot of straws piling up, and this is going to make me bankrupt,"

  My voice took on a deadly-serious intensity. "I'm about to tell you something I've considered very carefully, so I'm in my right mind when I tell you this. I've decided to commit suicide. And I want to take some bastard with me. I've chosen you,"

  The area manager stuttered speechlessly.

  There is nothing personal in it," I continued icily, "but I'm going to kill myself in a very spectacular manner by jumping off one of the big road bridges. Before I do, I'm going to send letters blaming my suicide on you to all the newspapers."

  He capitulated then and there on the phone.

  The next day the local water inspector reappeared. His eyes jumped about in his head as he told me he had come to approve the plumbing.

  "I don't know what ya fuckin done, but I'm goin ta fuckin take it up with my union!"

  Two days later, he was moved to a different area.