Where to start? The beginning is usually the best. Along with my apology for not being my usual promptly replying self as this little story will tell why.
It all started with the market. It was a beautiful day, the temperature, 35, no 29, no 35 again. Degrees Celsius that is. And windy. Anything over 30 is considered hot here, for most people. The hall was cool and buzzing with lots of people, the wind was predicted to pick up around lunch time to 50km+/hr and we were prepared for that.
It wasn’t until around 2pm that things started get hairy. At 2.30 the outside stallholders said they were packing up as thunder had been heard and the wind was indeed getting stronger. Two minutes later I wander outside, and it was like a cartoon. You know the sort, where people are hanging on to various structures while their bodies are being blown around. That’s what it was like. Gazebos were trying to fly and those holding them were struggling. It became a battle to pack up and in another minute the rain came down. Not just a bit. But a deluge. We were all soaked within minutes. Completely and utterly soaked to the bone. It wasn’t just stall holders who helped, the boys from the general store, customers, they were all there. And the wind. Well it was told later it got up to 130km/hr at its peak.
Someone asked for the other organiser and I took off inside. I stood in the door to the hall and everyone just looked at me with an “omg” look on their faces. I must have looked like a drowned rat. And you know what. I really didn’t care. My friend said she didn’t realise we had a wet t shirt comp going on… She’s lucky I wasn’t wearing the shirt I originally wanted to.
All this lasted a bare 15 mins. Then it was just windy as all buggery. I rang home and asked for a towel and a shirt which arrived just before the power went off.
Here I am soaked, trying to pack up my table. Getting cold, I am wearing shorts, and my shoes are sodden.
Fast forward an hour and I’m home, dodging trees over the road (and moving them where safe to do so) on my way. My boys come out and say “check out the little shed” I look round the corner and all I can do point and laugh. It looked. Like something had just flattened it. And then the trampoline has disappeared into the bush as well. I’m super surprised the bird house hasn’t fallen off its perch. By this time, nothing I felt would change the situation so laughing was all I had left. I’d been nearly blown away and soaked to the none. A shed blowing away was not an issue.
Drying off and donning warm dry clothes, the power is off, dinner is sandwiches, and no hot drink as the kettle won’t boil on the barby.
Bed early and sleep late this morning.
The power is still off. I’m dying for a coffee and we’re both a bit stinky.
I have to pick up the market signs – I’m dreading the damage that may have been done. Thankfully not too much, but one has completely vanished. No frame pieces, no cable ties, nothing. As though it was never there to start with.
We arrive back home, and get ready for another night without power. Gathering water form the bottom tank. Getting the smaller gas stove organised. And then…. that humming noise as the fridge comes on, and things start ticking over again.
All is now good, but we still have to pump water from one tank to the house one. It’s getting very low thanks to lovely weather and no rain.
Water done, a hot dinner, coffee! and lights. Not to mention a hot shower, and life is now complete.
That’s a shallow way to look at it, but that is the way it is. These power outages are also my argument for having a gas powered house and a generator for lights etc. We’ve had gas water and stove once before and I loved it. I’d definitely go back again.
And this story…. just because it’s kinda cool, and to remind me, us how much we take for granted all the mod cons we ‘can’t’ live without.