19 Feb 2015
Right, I bought a new transistor and dug out the old one as a spare. I made sure they had batteries and then I checked the torches as well. I battened down the hatches, made sure there was nothing small on the patios and I told our 24 year old, Lin, of the impending doom (a cyclone).
“Nooooooooo”, says Lin. “You’ve (I’ve) got to go to the flower market tomorrow”, says he.
(The anxiety causes the wrong pronoun to come out.)
“There won’t be anyone at the flower market if the cyclone hits Lin”.
“No cyclone”, says Lin.
“Not much we can do about it if it comes Lin”.
Then I got a brain wave. Show him how to use the transister and he can be in charge of it. And show him where to find his favourite radio station on it as well. (I called the transister a tranny, then realised that derivative has a different meaning these days. :-))
“If the storm is bad, we won’t be able to hear each other speak, Lin. We’ll have to go into Harry’s room until the storm passes”. (Harry’s room is the room under the stairs.)
Alan asked Lin to repeat what was happening so that we knew he understood.
“What’s happening tomorrow”, says Alan.
“The rain’s going to stop”, says Lin.
“It’s going to be bad”, says I.
Alan showed him the meteorological map.
“We won’t be able to drive”, says I. “Our car could get blown away”.
“No storm”, says Lin.
“It doesn’t look good, Lin”.
“You can take an umbrella”, says Lin.
And so it goes on. Of course, he’ll be okay in the cyclone itself. It is just the thought of the routine being out twice this week, what with Mum taking Wednesday night off work and all. It’s pretty difficult to face missing the weekly pilgrimage to the flower market and the subsequent flower arranging class.