I’m not quite sure what it is I’m meant to do, or what it is I should talk about, but it’s that time of the week and I have to say something, right? right!
It’s only a few days left to Christmas, and yet like the last five years, it seems, in my little part of Australia the temp has dropped, there’s no fire threat and that’s a 70% chance of rain.
It’s just…not Christmas. Not really.
For me, my Christmas memories, its too hot to go outside and play, but we still end up having a roast dinner of some sort. And if you’re so inclined, you end up playing some backyard cricket.
The Cicadas’ are normally singing so loud you’re forced to scream across the table as if you’re in the front line of a concert, and you wish to hell all the flies would die a painful bloody death so they’d stay the fuck away from you.
All you want to do is go home, strip off and try your hardest to fit inside the fridge. Okay, so I haven’t, nor did anyone I know, own an air conditioner, and even if they had it wasn’t on, since there was always so many people around it wouldn’t have helped. And the bill was more than you were willing to pay as kids ran in and out of the house.
Now, as we are older, we don’t have boxing KK with the McGee, we have it a few weeks earlier, so my Christmas isn’t as full as it used to be. I only have to deal with Christmas day and then I’m all free.
But it’s this shit weather. The end of last week it was that hot. That, wishing for winter hot, the sun was drying up the ground around us, and I was surprised there wasn’t a fire, but a day later, the rain pours and we are in early spring weather again.
But then, I guess I can’t complain, it’s not like I have to deal with two children and a Defacto that don’t deal with the heat as well as I do.