This life feels like Ben Myers' The Gallows Pole that I read recently, set in these valleys in the 1700s. Washing in the morning with 3 kettles worth of hot water from the water butts in a builder's bucket placed in the bath, then using that water to flush the toilet with a jug throughout the day. All we need now is some seasonal power cuts to complete the picture.
Well-meaning neighbour is loading a load of water into his car from his work, only he's got a Tesla and is using 20L cans, so whatever he's bringing won't even fill the pipe down from the hill. Didn't have the heart to tell him it's pointless so I've got the Sisyphean task of carrying these cans across the moor with him to the cistern for no reason. It's going dark now too.
I just came home to see all the women folk from the 6 houses stood having a natter. Looked proper old-school, like the 1980s. Water has finally completely run out, sounds like we're going to club together and order a tanker to deliver some to the moor cistern. Not cheap, but spread between 6 houses it's not too bad. The people who've been here a long time said it's never been this bad and it'll take months to fill up again naturally.
Sat watching TV and we hear a scratching from the kitchen. We'd heard it before and thought it was a neighbours cat trying to come through the RFID protected cat flap. I sneak into the dark kitchen and realise the sound's coming from under the work surface. Something's biting and clawing it's way up through the floor.
Indie Android developer. Autistic + ADHD. Cis trans ally. Yorkshire, UK.
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