So it was on a Sunday morning... I had, of course, rehearsed the possible outcomes during the wee hours. It was either the pump failure or the float switches. It turned out to be the latter and it was possible to fix without spending much apart from hours of my time.
The septic tank has two main chambers and a third, pump-sump chamber. The effluent has to be pumped about 350m along and perhaps 5m uphill to the reed bed. For a domestic septic system to rely on a pump is undesirable but the lie of the land gave us no choice.
Oh, and the invert level (that's the normal level of the sewage) is perhaps 1.5m below ground level again determined by the lie of the land.
I removed the cover to the sump chamber - you have to climb down a ladder maybe 2m to get to the top of this chamber - and quickly found the problem - the cable clips that hold the amber warning light float switch cable and thus determine its height had corroded right through, so the amber light was 'on' even though the pump was still operating. But the pump's float switch was also malfunctioning - being permanently on, and the junction box lid had fallen off again because the four screws had corroded away. So I fixed the warning float switch with stainless steel screw and copper tie wire, replaced the pump float switch, and replaced the junction box. It is far from ideal having even a sealed junction box in this chamber as the humidity is 100% by definition but it would take a lot of work to relocate it.
"Church" came somewhat annoyingly halfway through, which meant an interim shower and change of clothes. Eventually I got done and cleared up and then went for a constitutional barefoot run (I did not do the septic tank barefoot!). My reward - a deep, hot bath, only possible because the septic tank is working again!
20161127
20161126
More lake photographs
Today was Saturday. Yesterday I noticed that the grease trap outside the kitchen was overflowing so, the first thing this morning was to dig a grave. At 0900 I joined the outside crew picking up leaves and then moving laurel branches that J had been chain sawing. After drinks at 1030 I lifted the three manhole covers comprising the grease trap and removed four wheelbarrow fulls of yuk to my grave, then cleared up and was a bit late for lunch. Which meant I skipped dishes. It was a beautifully still, crisp and sunny day with not a cloud in the sky (despite the weather forecast that informed me it was cloudy) so, this afternoon, I did a medium serious run, along "goat man's lane" to the bridge over Kings river and back along the river-side and lake. In places where the sun had not reached the ground was still frosty which was a tad cold and crispy on the feet, but I manfully survived.
After a hot bath, Ali and I enjoyed dinner together until I was informed that the dreaded amber light was 'on' - this means that our septic tank pump has gone wrong and this basically means that all bodily functions will have to stop within a matter of a few hours. Hard to do anything in the dark so it will have to wait till tomorrow morning which, fortunately, is not the Sabbath. Did it have to go belly up just after getting cleaned up from doing the grease trap?
This island, by the way, only appears when the lake is very low as it is at the moment. Moreover this boat, recognisable because, as the man sits at the back to operate the outboard, its bow is always high, is often seen on the lake.
After a hot bath, Ali and I enjoyed dinner together until I was informed that the dreaded amber light was 'on' - this means that our septic tank pump has gone wrong and this basically means that all bodily functions will have to stop within a matter of a few hours. Hard to do anything in the dark so it will have to wait till tomorrow morning which, fortunately, is not the Sabbath. Did it have to go belly up just after getting cleaned up from doing the grease trap?
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| Lone pylon on its way to Turlough Hill |
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| River Liffey |
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| Where the Liffey joins the lake - the water is very low |
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| Flotsam |
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| See the boat? |
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| Nice squelchy mud! |
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| The boat stopped at this island - what is the man doing? |
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| His boat at the other end of the island |
This island, by the way, only appears when the lake is very low as it is at the moment. Moreover this boat, recognisable because, as the man sits at the back to operate the outboard, its bow is always high, is often seen on the lake.
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| The surface (moss?) in the foreground was bright orange |
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| Evening shadows |
20161121
Light effects
A cold Sunday afternoon run - hovering around freezing point. Strangely I find my hands feel the coldest: bare feet cope reasonably well.
20161120
Cold and frosty
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| Sunday 0700 |
T'was a cold and frosty morning... And Google tells me it also happens also to be International Children's Day. Which led me to this site "Never before have parents taken their role as parents so seriously" a sentiment I like. If anyone doubts the riches in a child's life take a look here or here! Provided new parenthood doesn't smoother the child per my last post.
20161117
Mollycoddle or rust?
I may have remarked before how now-a-days parents seem almost over-protective of their children as if there is pervert around every corner or as if, when climbing a tree, they will fall and break their neck, or would never trust their child with a sharp knife. In my experience children are generally very sensible and robust and quite capable of looking after themselves.
Among the several buildings comprising my parent's business Smith & Crockford was an ancient shed in some disrepair which was used to store disused building materials and ladders. It was a wooden structure with earth floor and part corrugated-sheet-iron roof. The other part was where sheets were missing, and many of the existing sheets were paper thin for rust. It had a sort of upper floor by reason of the lumber stored there. In all it was a wonderful playground. Of course, strictly, we were not allowed to climb on the roof because it was considered so dangerous. But we did. We being my older sister (until she grew out of such things) and Ian, the boy from next door. My sister is three years and Ian was a year older than me. We knew how to navigate that roof. We did not chance the rustiest sheets. We gambled on those that were mediocre. And we disdained the few shiny new sheets. We crawled through tunnels formed from stacked lumber. We ground glass bottles to dust in an old plumber's vice. We made milk by mixing crushed chalk with water, and added it to tea made from builder's sand mixed with water. We made an obstacle course around the "top" garden which was adjacent to this shed: the course involved various dare devil feats and you were chicken if you could not complete it or touched the ground. I remember edging my way along the top rail of a tall fence surmounted with metal spikes which would have impaled me had I fallen. And then walk unwavering along the rounded top of a 6ft masonry wall.
Next door was Ian's parents' grocery store which had a separate bakery at the end of the yard behind the shop. Ian and I would pester the baker for cakes and occasionally won, more often got shouted away. Or we would filch eggs and watch them explode when thrown against the brick wall we traversed to get from my to Ian's property. We only took eggs with no shells, thinking these were unsaleable. Or, if the store room was unlocked, Ian would take bottles of fizzy drinks one by one and drink the top half inch or so on the basis that nobody would ever notice. As far as I know nobody ever did. In those days bottles were not sealed like they are now.
The bakery had a slate roof which was definitely out of bounds. Slates break very easily and are difficult to repair, as I repeatedly tell people here. But we clambered over the roof none-the-less, with great care I should add - it was never our intention to damage property.
In my parent's "top garden", which was about 50 yards along the builder's yard behind our house, was a raised rain-water tank that communicated via a valve and underground pipe to a second, underground tank which had an overflow onto the vegetable garden. On opening the valve water would thus come out of this overflow and water and soil make mud and mud is great to play in. Here it was that I made dams and reservoirs and invented the venturi pump. How could I have known it had already been invented?
My workshop was in the top garden. My father had plenty of other work areas associated with the business so was happy for me to take over part of this shed. Here I collected resistors and suchlike from old radio sets and, when I got a bit older, actually made things that worked like an oscilloscope, a servo-controlled XY pen-plotter, an audio signal generator. Here I first savoured Rossini's overture to Guillaume Tell on a '78 using a phonograph with a steel needle, through my beloved balanced pentode audio amplifier, the beginning of hi-fi.
We now live together with several other families and I am so thankful that we have about 15 acres of land, not all cultivated, thus providing plenty of opportunities for children here (that includes my three granddaughters) to explore, whilst still being in the relative safety of our property.
Among the several buildings comprising my parent's business Smith & Crockford was an ancient shed in some disrepair which was used to store disused building materials and ladders. It was a wooden structure with earth floor and part corrugated-sheet-iron roof. The other part was where sheets were missing, and many of the existing sheets were paper thin for rust. It had a sort of upper floor by reason of the lumber stored there. In all it was a wonderful playground. Of course, strictly, we were not allowed to climb on the roof because it was considered so dangerous. But we did. We being my older sister (until she grew out of such things) and Ian, the boy from next door. My sister is three years and Ian was a year older than me. We knew how to navigate that roof. We did not chance the rustiest sheets. We gambled on those that were mediocre. And we disdained the few shiny new sheets. We crawled through tunnels formed from stacked lumber. We ground glass bottles to dust in an old plumber's vice. We made milk by mixing crushed chalk with water, and added it to tea made from builder's sand mixed with water. We made an obstacle course around the "top" garden which was adjacent to this shed: the course involved various dare devil feats and you were chicken if you could not complete it or touched the ground. I remember edging my way along the top rail of a tall fence surmounted with metal spikes which would have impaled me had I fallen. And then walk unwavering along the rounded top of a 6ft masonry wall.
Next door was Ian's parents' grocery store which had a separate bakery at the end of the yard behind the shop. Ian and I would pester the baker for cakes and occasionally won, more often got shouted away. Or we would filch eggs and watch them explode when thrown against the brick wall we traversed to get from my to Ian's property. We only took eggs with no shells, thinking these were unsaleable. Or, if the store room was unlocked, Ian would take bottles of fizzy drinks one by one and drink the top half inch or so on the basis that nobody would ever notice. As far as I know nobody ever did. In those days bottles were not sealed like they are now.
The bakery had a slate roof which was definitely out of bounds. Slates break very easily and are difficult to repair, as I repeatedly tell people here. But we clambered over the roof none-the-less, with great care I should add - it was never our intention to damage property.
In my parent's "top garden", which was about 50 yards along the builder's yard behind our house, was a raised rain-water tank that communicated via a valve and underground pipe to a second, underground tank which had an overflow onto the vegetable garden. On opening the valve water would thus come out of this overflow and water and soil make mud and mud is great to play in. Here it was that I made dams and reservoirs and invented the venturi pump. How could I have known it had already been invented?
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| His Master's Voice |
My workshop was in the top garden. My father had plenty of other work areas associated with the business so was happy for me to take over part of this shed. Here I collected resistors and suchlike from old radio sets and, when I got a bit older, actually made things that worked like an oscilloscope, a servo-controlled XY pen-plotter, an audio signal generator. Here I first savoured Rossini's overture to Guillaume Tell on a '78 using a phonograph with a steel needle, through my beloved balanced pentode audio amplifier, the beginning of hi-fi.
We now live together with several other families and I am so thankful that we have about 15 acres of land, not all cultivated, thus providing plenty of opportunities for children here (that includes my three granddaughters) to explore, whilst still being in the relative safety of our property.
20161114
Convention is over
Some left yesterday, others left early this morning after having been dosed with multiple mugs of coffee, some will remain a couple more days. So it is more or less over. Things will gradually slip back into routine. Am I pleased? I think I may have already intimated that conventions and other such large-scale gatherings are not at all my scene. I tend to crawl into my shell. The noise deafens me so that I cannot even hear the person the other side of the dinner table. I am embarrassed because I cannot remember some of the names, or cannot tell people apart. Gatherings between the meetings are about socialising, about small talk, and I don't do small talk - I long for proper relationship and not just a meaningless, yearly brushing of shoulders. Thankfully there is always plenty of clearing up that has to be done, to occupy my time and energies. And so, once again, convention has come to pass.
20161112
Convention run
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| Mullaghcleevaun hidden in the clouds |
And so many comments like - aren't your feet cold? I ask them if their hands and head are cold. Or just pointing at my feet. It sure is hard to go against the shoe convention.
Taking time to run every day helps blow away the cobwebs. Today I visited my lake which is very low at the moment.
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| My lake |
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| Evening shadows |
20161106
Flanges
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| Temple Mills Eurostar Depot |
Several years back I was working for a company that supplied catering equipment for the Eurostar trains, and my work involved a visit to the Eurostar Temple Mills depot.
Making conversation with my host I mentioned how strange I found it that the flanges on real rolling stock seemed so small compared with what I was used to in the OO-gauge models my father excelled in. He explained that, of course, the flange is not normally what keeps the trains on the track anyway. Strange that, until then, this wisdom had not penetrated my thick skull.
The principle is explained on many web sites: The picture below is from one of the easier to follow. Of here for a video. A consequence is that, unlike road vehicles, train wheelsets do not need, indeed must not have differentials.
I find it hard to comprehend how hundreds of tons of rolling stock travelling at around 100 mph can stay on two narrow steel rails, bends and all, just because of the wheel profile. But they do. And here's how scale fails us - with OO-gauge models I have no doubt that it is the flange primarily, and not the profile, that keeps the trains on the track. Although die hards model to P4 standard which is true to scale which makes we wonder whether they suffer frequent derailments.
I miss my father's model railway. Living in a community as I do sort of precludes building one myself - there is nowhere to put it and would be little time to enjoy it. And how would I pay for it? I still have some remnants of my father's rolling stock gathering dust in the attic, kept in case any child developed a taste, but so far that hasn't happened. How could they?
Does this bother me? Frankly not all that much. But I still love railways in any form, shape or size and am looking forward to that grand age when the Irish government will allow me to travel anywhere in Ireland for free!
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