“It is twice as costly as the older type” the contractor told us. “But the representative of the manufacturer will come and repair it if required.”
That sounded impressive too. Perhaps it should have sounded as a warning bell. But the hear only what the mind tells them to hear, at least when one is filled with visions of grandeur. The fellow messed up the installation somewhat, looked tense for some time, worked again in the loft where the flush tank was located, and then victoriously told us it was done. It was indeed done, and worked fine for a year or so. Then the malfunction started. The water would trickle rather than flow with force. The usual plumbers could not fix it. A couple of them advised us to call the company fellow, since it was beyond their abilities to repair it. We tried to contact our contractor to get the address of the company, but he did not turn up despite a promise to do so us so many times, and would not give any telephone number of the company, that we gave up on him. The only person I could think of who could repair the thing was me. So one Sunday morning entered the loft, removed the lid of the flush tank and examined the interior of the tank. Thanks to memories of physics learnt in secondary school and practical trial on the mechanism of the tank, I found the following.
There was an outer cylinder, in which an inner cylinder resting on the outlet. It was connected by a connector to a piston that would rise within a cup pushed by a rubber diaphragm on pushing the button in the toilet. A plastic tube conveyed the pressure to the diaphragm from the button. The piston pulled up the inner cylinder along with it, which would drain the flush. The diaphragm was on the mouth of a cup connected to the tube, and was held in place by a ring-like lid with spiral ridge on the inner side and a central perforation. This lid was broken at one place by our original contractor which had caused a panic attack in him at the time of installation, and a leak of pressure now, permitting the diaphragm to move away from the edge of the cup. If I could get a replacement for the lid, the problem would be solved. But I could not, because no one was telling me where the company was located. So I used my surgical knowledge instead. I cut off a piece of a surgical glove, placed it over the diaphragm where the lid was broken and somewhat beyond that area, and refitted the lid. Now the air pressure inside the cup stopped leaking and the flush mechanism started working again. Now I have time to find the required spare part and fit it too.
It goes to prove training in school physics and use of surgical gloves can be combined, with a little imagination, to repair a flush tank that a plumber says he cannot repair.
