In Victorian times, most country people shared the water in a stream, spring or well (see the line illustration of a woman collecting spring water in the Victorian Picture Library). They would watch it like a hawk, endlessly checking the level and studying the sky for rainclouds, while recalling with neighbours infamous droughts and the pattern of precipitation throughout each and every year. Some might think them obsessed. In very dry country areas, water was almost a form of currency, with water-rich villagers looking at less fortunate neighbours with a mixture of pity and scorn. Most people in towns thought of prolonged periods of rain as an irritation. The countryman, however, looked on such downpours philosophically, saying, 'Ah, good for the well!'

Collecting water is one of the most ancient jobs known to man. Buckets and yokes were used in prehistoric times and were still being used by the Victorians. Going to fetch water was a daily task for cottagers who had to make several journeys a day, and more on washing day. By using a yoke it was possible to carry several gallons at a time, for the buckets are held high and the weight spread across the shoulders. Holding them in each hand made them bang awkwardly against thighs or knees. Carrying the buckets was hard work, especially after a day spent working in the fields, with a trek home at the day's end. If the water was at the other end of the village there was yet more carrying involved.

Going for water was considered 'ooman's work' (woman's work). Flora Thompson in 'Lark Rise to Candleford' recounts how many villagers felt that if a woman made her husband go for water it was 'a sin and a shame'. One reason for this view could be that the women enjoyed going for water because it gave them the opportunity to meet their friends. While they queued they could indulge in a bout of good old-fashioned gossip. The task might have been onerous, but at least it had its compensations.

It has been pointed out how curious it was that Jack and Jill went up a hill to fetch a pail of water. Most wells lie on low ground, and it was the job of the skilled water-diviner to find a reliable source. This age-old technique employs nothing more than a forked stick, and has not been superseded by modern technology. Everyone hired the diviner, even those who were the most sceptical about the realms of the unknown and the spiritual. Wells could be a hundred feet deep, others mere scratchings in the ground: every country area had its own unique geology, and the depth and amount of water differed significantly over a patch of ground a hundred yards wide. If a well did start to run dry and the owner brought in the well-digger, it could lead to serious disputes: nothing incensed a villager more than the belief that his neighbour was stealing his water by diverting the underground streams.

Turning on a tap hardly offers you the time or opportunity to think. Yet when you turn the handle of an old windlass and watch the bucket slowly descend into the darkness it can lead you into a quiet world of meditation and reflection.

Some would go further and say that having a well seems to encourage the philosophical frame of mind in man. Rider Haggard, author and farmer, reports that when he was digging out a deep, disused well in his native Norfolk he came upon sea sand and thousands of shells lining the bottom. It led him to reflect on the distant origins of man and the planet, and how 'in some dim age the sea once rolled' a hundred feet below the present level of the earth.

For more details on Victorian Society and a line illustration of a woman collecting spring water, please visit The Victorian Picture Library.