Just like back in 84/85 we had our own water crisis today.
A normal morning was interrupted by Anne announcing she had turned on the tap and nothing had come out.
Obviously, I tried, because perhaps the faucet was gender biased, but no.
Shoes on, head for the leasing office, but there at the end of our little horseshoe of homes was the nice man from the Water Company twisting a long handled device turning off multiple water valves.
If the leasing agents were medieval kings we were lucky in that we got Paul The Good One, who picked up the phone immediately.
I chatted with the water mains guy who couldn’t have been nicer, and he explained the obvious situation that they had received no payment.
Decided to head to the Water Company offices to pay the bill and on my way to the car the water guy’s phone rang.
“Hold on”, he said to me (more Wilson Phillips than En Vogue), I might be turning it back on.
Sure enough, 15 seconds later we had water, which is where our story diverges from mid-80's Ethiopia and Sudan. I still like to think we are the world.