Tom makes a splash

Keeping the Peace
By Tom Lessard, C.D.

Not long after Crediton’s bridge repair was finished and traffic resumed (but not back to the amount we had before the bridge was condemned), tenders were requested from all companies vying for contracts involved in the sewer project.
Finally, the shovels hit the ground. No financial aid was available with no prospects of any in the future; once you start to dig, no grants are available and you are on your own.
Slowly, the main drag was excavated, leaving the town a mess and traffic delayed and rerouted. “It’ll all be completed in a year,” we were told; fortunately for them, they didn’t stress which year that would be. There were plenty of engineers, foremen, heavy equipment operators, and even some labourers on the job from morning until night.
Daily, they ran into unforeseen snags: underground springs, sinkholes, and unknown pipes and wires were among the surprises. By the time they were halfway through town, Centralia was almost completed (by a different company).
As the project continued up to my area, as I was sitting on my porch reading a book and resting my feet and legs on cushions, I was suddenly pelted by rocks and water hurtling toward my house. I had to scramble to get my shoes on, pick up the cushions and chair and my book, open the door and squeeze inside. It was quite a chore and damp to boot.
I looked out my window to see what happened, and saw five people laughing at my stumbling efforts while standing over a hole on the north side, watching the eruption from the water line. Someone told me they didn’t realize there was a line at that location. It just so happened that I was the only one on the street sitting outside watching the entertainment, which led me to suspect that the break was planned.
What goes around, comes around. Later that year, they were working on a manhole in front of my sidewalk and the men needed some water. O