The Geography of Contemporary Crises

At the Rectory, the mains water supply returned late on Tuesday evening and it was very welcome when the kitchen tap sputtered back into action. On Monday, getting a little nervous about how long the water in my pipes and tank might last, I did go to one of the distribution sites and collect a package of bottles, and carried on using these for drinking until Wednesday morning, as, to judge by what others had said their first return of supply was marked by flows of brown, green, and cloudy water. It all depended where you were, I suppose, because mine seemed fine; apart from my bedtime glass of water last night which emerged from the tap completely white. That was just fine water bubbles, though: if your water clears from the bottom there's no problem, it's only if it settles from the top that you need be concerned. I'd tried to flush the toilets with rainwater, and was surprised to see how mosquito larvae seemed unfazed by having to swim around in my wee when I would have thought that was an uncongenial environment even for them. They're all gone now, I fear: I try to exercise compassion for the whole of the mute creation, but I see little point in mosquitos unless you are a Dengue Fever bacillus when you do, indeed, have cause to praise them. 

The last time we had a local utility-supply crisis of this kind was ten years ago, when floods and recurrent power cuts afflicted the whole area over Christmas. That was hideous, and more so, because quite a number of parishioners had to be evacuated from their homes, but there are other differences between 2013 and 2023. Then, we didn't have the various rival community message boards on Facebook and other platforms, allowing us all to be constantly updated on what was happening in different postcode areas, and to compare the statements of our local MP with those of the leader of the Council (MP: optimistic; Councillor: sceptical). As the water supply returned through Monday and Tuesday, you could track its progress and contrast what people were actually saying with the confident declarations of Thames Water who, at one point on Tuesday, claimed that only 11 houses were yet to be reconnected, only to be met with a barrage of dozens of Facebook comments any one of whom represented more households than that. The water company's comms failings are one of the complaints everyone seems to have. I tend to think that more information is always better: when a train, for instance, doesn't do what it's supposed to, it helps to know why you're stuck in the middle of nowhere rather than imagining the crew don't think the passengers matter. But, as always, doomscrolling does nobody any good, and you have to exercise some conscious distraction and tell yourself you're not going to be more anxious than you need; and the endless updating did seem to make each day feel longer.

One thing Thames Water did well was managing the water distribution centres, even if many people would have preferred more of them. As well as going on my own account on Monday I collected a couple of packs of bottles for Mad Trevor on Sunday and it all worked very smoothly, especially for me as I could zoom past the waiting cars on my bike. The water came from Elm Spring in Staffordshire, though I'm sure other bottled water enterprises are just as good. The distribution points were set up by Sunday morning. Do the water companies have pallets of bottled spring water just hanging around in case something like this happens? Does Thames Water have a contract with Elm Spring? One online drinks supply company describes it as 'a fantastic-value brand bringing some much-needed humour to the party'. Frankly, for me jokes aren't a priority from my water supply.