Drip, drip, drop

One annoying aspect of the laying down of a new lawn is the tyranny of the sprinkler. Nowadays, movies have made us accustomed to the America style sprinkler that sits flush to the lawn and turns on like clockwork to irrigate the lawn in the early morning and late evening. I do not have one of those. I have lurid yellow Hozelock sprinkler that must be dragged across the lawn and placed by hand in a spot roughly central to the whole garden, then the umbilical hose followed back to the garden tap, which can then be turned on. The tap leaks, the hose leaks, the sprinkler gets stuck, and invariably when I turn on the tap, the sprinkler flips over and starts intensely irrigating a small 10x30cm strip beneath it.
In many ways, its actually a rather good sprinkler. When placed correctly, it can cover the entire garden, sweeping back and forth via some mysterious mechanism that I presume is entirely water powered. If this was always the case, I would be quite happy with it. I would turn it on in the evening, leave it for half an hour to an hour, and then turn it off until the next morning. It does, as I say though, get stuck. Which means it gently sweeps across the newly seeded lawn for just enough time for me to get back inside and take my shoes off, before giving up its undulations, sticking at the furthest trajectory, and therefore slowly flooding the patio.
I naturally looked up solutions online. The best advice I could find was to get a new sprinkler. I did, however, find a website that suggested washing it in hot soapy water. I dutifully took it inside and doused it in the utility room sink. It didn’t seem particularly different. I manually rotating it a few times to see if I could find the sticking point, but the mechanism was too simple to be diagnosed. It turns left and right, and I have no idea what causes it to alternate between the two. That was when the madness kicked in. It suddenly occurred to me that we have hard water. Perhaps, I reasoned, the mechanism has calcified and there is a small grit like particle of calcium blocking the mechanism.
It was for this reason that Sue came down to find me pouring vinegar into the end that normally connects to the hose. She took one look, asked no questions, and walked away. I didn’t blame her.
I wasted no time trying out my newly cleansed device. I took it up to the end of the garden, placed it in an area where it could do little harm, walked back to the tap and turned it on. It swooshed. Left and right. And left again. Perfect.
I returned and moved the sprinkler to the centre of the garden. Swoosh. Left, right, left, right… I couldn’t believe it. Something I had tried from the internet had actually worked.
The next morning, I woke up to a beautifully sunny day. Crisp, bright sunshine, but still early enough to not be too hot.
“Do you want to put the sprinkler on?” said Sue. I nodded excitedly. I went out to look at the garden. My face fell.
“Um, I’m not sure I need to.”
Sue joined me and we looked out over the garden. The sprinkler, firmly locked into its most extreme position, had been happily sprinkling all night.
It had not swooshed.
The patio, on the other hand, was well and truly irrigated.