Grout Expectations: The Plumbing Begins

Today marked the first day of my week-long exposure to the mysteries of British plumbing.

Trudged off to the tiling school in semi-darkness, in a kind of cold, damp weather that went straight to the marrow of my bones. The smell of the oatcake factory on Peffermill Road was particularly delightful. Once inside the building I could see my breath, as usual. A hot tea got the juices flowing again.

Barry, our instructor, started me off on an introductory lecture of pipes and joins while the remaining three students, John, Phil and Paul continued on with tasks related to the second half of their 2-week course. To give you an idea of the backgrounds of the type of students we have here, John is an ex RAF communications expert, Phil was a financial advisor who got tired of working in Kuwait, and Paul was a stonemason residing in Drumnadrochit (on the bonnie shores of Loch Ness).

Plumbing. What can I say? It’s not the most interesting of subjects under the best of circumstances. The only unusual thing I can report is that, erm… waste from British toilets can flow straight into the back of the wall and not directly downwards, as they do in Canada. There is also an ingenious invention on sale here called a Sani-Flow that takes the waste, puts it through a blender-like contraption and… well, never mind. You don’t really need to know the rest.

I also discovered that Scots have their own words for tradesmen. Carpenters are “chippies”, bricklayers are “brickkies” and electricians are “sparkies”.

Not much else to report except that Stuart made fun of my woolen hat, which I was compelled to wear at all times today. He thought I looked like Noddy. (Don’t know who Noddy is? Do a Google search.)

Dinner was the remains of a piece of Stilton cheese that I’d been carrying around in my backpack for the last three days, plus a little bean salad and a chocolate roll, all washed down with a glass of milk.

Check out the pix below.