Meanwhile, in Australia a global crisis arrives in the back yard

When the timer pings, Emma Kendall-Marsden knows that her four minutes in the shower are up. In her native Northamptonshire she loved to linger under a powerful hot jet. But this is Brisbane, and the water is running out.

Emma and her husband, Sam, emigrated to Australia in 2003. The lifestyle and warm climate were the main attractions. They bought a house in a leafy Brisbane suburb. Their spacious lawn was irrigated by 24-hour sprinklers.

The couple could not have predicted that within a few years the country would be gripped by its most crippling drought on record. Southeast Queensland has been one of the areas worst affected, and the Kendall-Marsdens have watched dam levels fall to a historic low.

Now they are now living under the toughest water restrictions ever imposed in Australia.

The drought, which many scientists have linked with global warming, is regarded as the first climate change-driven disaster to strike a developed nation.

Sam is a keen gardener, but his lawn is an expanse of shrivelled brown grass that crunches underfoot. The soil is like concrete, and the flowerbeds are dotted with straggly corpses. “That used to be a magnolia bush,” he says. “And those were irises.” He and Emma used to pick lemons for their gin and tonics. Like everything else, their lemon tree is dead.

When they first moved in, “it was green”, says Sam. “It was lush,” says Emma. “It was beautiful,” they chorus.

Now gardens may only be watered by bucket, from 4-7pm three days a week. Hosepipes are banned, and only car mirrors and windscreens can be washed. Children’s paddling pools may not be filled.

Residents are being cajoled and threatened into using no more than 140 litres of water a day each. One minute in the shower consumes up to 15 litres. A soak in the bath can soak up 200, while a load of washing uses about 165.

In stiff upper-lipped fashion, the Kendall-Marsdens are doing their best to meet the target. They turn off taps while brushing their teeth and soaping themselves in the shower. They stuff the washing machine full, and have mothballed the dishwasher. They save up dirty crockery to wash in bulk. “I couldn’t tell you when I last had a bath,” says Sam, a solicitor.

Even their Rottweiler, Cesar, must do his bit. In the past he was given a full bucket of water. Now he is limited to half a bucket.

Yet the couple are still using 194 litres each per day, according to Sam, who carefully logs their consumption. “We’ve been really frugal,” he says. “I don’t know what else we can cut back.” Emma says: “I feel guilty even turning on the tap.”

The Kendall-Marsdens are not just being good citizens. Households with excessive water usage are required to perform an audit, and may be fined. But beyond that lies a more compelling reason. “I’m scared we’re going to run out of water,” says Sam.

That fear is well grounded. The three dams servicing the region are down to less than 20 per cent of capacity. If next summer is as dry as the last one, Brisbane will run out of water late next year.

By that time a $7bn (2.91bn pounds) programme aimed at “drought-proofing” southeast Queensland is supposed to have been completed. It includes a desalination plant on the Gold Coast, south of Brisbane, and a pipeline that will pump recycled water to power stations. New dams are also planned.

But if construction work falls behind schedule, there will be a crisis. “Frankly, it’s a close race,” says a source at the Queensland Water Commission.

Smaller towns in the region have already run dry, and are having to truck in water supplies at great expense. The government is talking about evacuating residents.

In Brisbane, deadly funnel-web spiders are invading backyards, while thirsty kangaroos are colliding with cars in outer suburbs. In rural areas, snakes have become a menace. “We had a 5ft red-bellied black on the verandah the other day,” says Paul Van Vegchel, who lives on a property near Kingaroy, north-west of Brisbane. “They’re extremely venomous.”

Mr Van Vegchel, an artist, is usually self-sufficient. “But my dam’s bone dry, and my bore’s pumping salt water,” he said. “Me and the wife share a very skimpy bath, then we wash our smalls in it, then we put that water in the garden pots.”

Like many locals, Mr Van Vegchel accuses the Queensland government of failing to plan adequately for the needs of Australia’s fastest growing region. The beaches and warm climate of Brisbane, the Gold Coast and the Sunshine Coast, to the north, attract 60,000 new inhabitants a year. The current population is 2.8 million.

“The government has sat back and had this great influx of people into the southeast corner,” said Mr Van Vegchel. “There’s been no planning; it’s just been welcome on board.”

While southeast Queensland is highly urbanised, it has 4,000 farmers, all of whom are enduring hard times. John Cherry, chief executive of the Queensland Farmers Federation, says dairy production is down by 30 per cent since 2002, while fruit and vegetable production has halved in four years.

Across the state, about 37,000 jobs in agriculture have disappeared. “The social impact has been devastating,” said Mr Cherry.

Linton Brimblecombe, who farms in the Lockyer Valley, west of Brisbane, is still growing beetroot, but has abandoned his sweetcorn, green beans and broccoli. Unless it rains, he will be out of water by September.

Mr Brimblecombe built dams during the last drought 10 years ago. “Back then the farming community was suffering, but Brisbane wasn’t,” he said. “So the Queensland government missed a wake-up call.”

A fourth-generation farmer, he is certain he is witnessing the effects of climate change. “We watch the weather and temperatures intimately, because they determine how we treat our crops,” he said. “Most definitely we’re warming up and our rainfall is decreasing.”

New figures published yesterday suggest Australia will exceed its Kyoto target for greenhouse gas emissions by two per cent. The government, which has refused to ratify the Kyoto Protocol but claims to be on course to meet the target anyway, rejected the figures.

In southeast Queensland, the situation is so dire that people are stealing water. One Brisbane sports club had 12,000 litres siphoned from its tank. Some sports pitches have closed because the ground is dangerously hard. Even tougher water restrictions may be imposed by September.

Paul Greenfield, a Queensland University professor and leading water expert, said supply would have to be rationed to certain times of day if the new infrastructure was not completed on time.

Meanwhile, the Kendall-Marsdens’ neighbours, Scott and Jessica Hitchcock, are even worse off than them. Their lawn is so dry that long cracks have opened up, several inches wide in places. Mrs Hitchcock worries that one of her children may break an ankle.

Back home, the Kendall-Marsdens pore over photographs of their once green garden and ponder whether to return to England.

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