IT’S CHRISTMAS and here in Hunston the toilets are backing up.
Lift any manhole cover between the pub and the pumping station and look no further.
The non-moving sewage – almost level with the road and the pumps are unable to work at full capacity for fear of bursting the decaying pipes and heading out to the Manhood – is creeping back from whence it came.
The houses, cottages and bungalows in which so many have invested so much are under attack.
Rusty the dog and the old man that is me have set out to seek the source of the problem.
Not for us the raging rivers of the west; more for the HQ of those folk currently taking up space on our local planning committee. I have to admire the versatility of Rusty the dog who, by balancing on three legs and raising the offside rear, suggests we could perhaps could sandbag the front door.
Pointless, Rusty: these people know how to climb in and out of windows and by doing so, remain at large to ignore all the official advice made available to them and vote in even more housing, citing ‘an excellent footpath into Chichester’ by way of justification.
Rusty is laying on his back with all four legs sticking in the air, which did no good to me – I need a hand shifting these sandbags.