FEELING DRAINED . . .

One of the many repairs we hadn't expected to make – and so hadn't budgeted for – was to our water cisterna. What could go wrong with a basic concrete cube, with a hatch door on top for access and an outlet pipe on the side? It could leak, that's what.

The Boss noticed the thin but constant trickle of water running from a small crack in the side of the cisterna. He'd been out with the long-handled loppers, cutting back the wild olive shrubs that had encroached all over that side of the cisterna, when he spotted the tell-tale signs.

It wasn't a serious leak, but even a small loss of such a precious resource was too much. It was time for a visit to see Juan 1 (the owner) and Juan 2 (the foreman) of our friendly local building company. Juan 1 – a keen antiques collector, by the way – arrived to inspect the problem.
He wasn't surprised to see the crack, the trickle or the thin film of moss growing in the damp patch of concrete, guessing that the cisterna had probably been leaking for some time.

As with previous building problems (and there have been more than a few), we were offered two solutions: one expensive, the other less so. He could knock down the existing cisterna – the concrete block walls of which had weakened under the weight of regular 15,000 litre deliveries – and build us a smart new one. It sounded the ideal solution but would cost too much – as well as leave us without water for longer than we could bear. Alternatively, he could line the cisterna with a special kind of safe plastic paint which would seal the crack; this cheaper option would mean we'd be without water for less than 48 hours.

No contest. The date for the work was set and when it arrived, we reluctantly had to empty the cisterna. To give us at least some water over the next 48 hours, we first filled the bath, then every decent-sized receptacle we could find: saucepans, jugs, and watering cans full of water were stored in the guest bathroom. At least we'd be able to wash ourselves, the dishes, and have some for cooking and making hot drinks.

Next we gave the garden the best watering it had ever had (and were later rewarded with some particularly perky plants). A passing tortoise stopped to lap at one of the many pools of water forming in the garden and even drank from the end of the hose – a magical moment.

Time was running out and within half an hour of the scheduled arrival of the builders, water was still gushing out and turning our garden into a paddy field. At last, the job was finished, with just minutes to spare. We waited. And waited. Then, we received the phone call informing us that the builders had had to delay the job by a day.

Deep joy. An extra day of not being able to flush the loo . . .