Christmas eve and the rain hasn’t stopped. Dad had to go into the hospital today so the hospital could do what they needed to do, and I was to be left in charge of the house. Denise turned up bright and early and whisked them off.
Trace then turned up to take me shopping for mum & dad’s Christmas present part 2. Before she turned up, and following orders from mum, I put out her towels to dry. The sky was grey in patches but there was also plenty of wind and sun. I figured it would dry before it rained. It just shows how incredibly silly I can be sometimes.
We were in the car, just about to cross the Kawana Island bridge and the rain came down a-teeming. Trace also had washing on her line so we both sighed.
There is a ridiculous amount of rain around Queensland this year (and elsewhere in Australia). The news is full of floods, stranded cars, kids surfing in their back gardens and the usual tale of woe about how this woman’s house was flooded two years ago and took months to dry out and now it’s happened again. Well, der. You live by the river, you flood by the river. So I always say, anyway.
Now I don’t mind a bit of rain – I wouldn’t live in England if I didn’t – but this is ridiculous. It’s not your nice, friendly, mild-mannered English drizzle. Oh no! This is torrential, get soaked just from looking through the window type rain.
In fact, this afternoon, mum and I popped into the Kawana shopping centre so I could logon and perform some very important online stuff on a public terminal and, while it was fine when we went in, it was pouring when we came out. The drops were so big we were drenched from head to toe after about three feet. Mum had my umbrella but that was as useful as a wheelbarrow on an iceberg.
Rain. Mum and dad actually decided to move to Australia 50 years ago because they were sick of it always raining on their holidays. And that was nice gentle English rain.
Which reminds me, in an entirely different weather related vein. Trace had a call from Mitchell (her youngest who is presently in Norwich) in the early hours of this morning telling her how it’s started raining in Norfolk and the snow is vanishing. He now has the wonderful slush to look forward to. Lucky boy. Though he did say they are predicting a white Christmas. And I get rain. And humidity.
So the towels have had about 28 rinses while hanging around on the washing line. Just as they are almost dry, the rain decides they could do with another soaking. Pointless. Wish mum had a dryer. Not that she’d use it.
Here’s the sad old towels after their umpteenth rinse, looking a bit sorry for themselves.
Also, I thought this next shot would show how awful the day is but it didn’t quite work. Still, the trees look like they’re suffering a bit.