In defence of poxy weather

It’s a cloudy, windy, overcast day today. The clouds have rolled in over our first night here in Albany, Western Australia to coat the city in a grey pallor and bring the temperature down to the low 20s (Celsius). The Kevman is not impressed.

I bloody love it.

Do you know how hot it gets in this God forsaken country? Well do ya?

A few weeks back it reached 44.4°C in Perth (that’s 111.92°F for you American folk). Now what the Hell sort of temperature do you call that? And ‘Hell’ is the operative word there. In fact Satan called, he wants his weather back.

It’s just not natural.

Not only does Mother Nature suffer from PMS but she’s also menopausal (coz she’s Mother Nature and she can do both if she wants to) But just because she’s having hot flashes doesn't really mean that we need to join in the fun.

Now due to my location, Internet research is not gonna happen (I'll be having enough trouble just publishing anything today!) but I'm pretty damn sure that heat it another phenomenon that can do you an awful mischief over here if given half a chance.

I've come to the conclusion that this country is just a thug.

It wouldn't be quite so bad if I didn't have this Fibromyalgia business...and I'm a Kiwi with Fibromyalgia at that. Kiwis often struggle in the heat over here; we do a fabulous imitation of dying and are forced to develop the ability to sweat in places that we didn't even know we had. Then add to that a disease that makes you very sensitive to any temperature change or extreme and things get interesting.

This may at least start to explain my delight in an overcast day upon which you can wander outside and not walk into a wall of heat and humidity that makes you feel like you are wading through treacle. It’s just not my favourite part of Australian summer living eh.

I will give the Aussie climate credit for one thing though, at least it doesn't nuke you as fast as the New Zealand one. In Kiwiland at peak times of the summer days, you can burn in minutes...and not very many of 'em.

But overall I much prefer a cool breeze lapping at my clothing and a spot of rain hither and yon, than a sticky mass of air being draped over me like a drop sheet and any wind comparable to a hairdryer in my face on a day that is already feeling like a heat wave in Hades

.

The Kevman however is different kettle of lizard. Unless it’s over 30°C he gets his shiver on. If he has to wear anything other than shorts and a T-shirt, it is a chilly day and it can be off with itself. He spent half of his time in last year's New Zealand winter standing beside the nearest heat source and the rest of the time working out how to get to one. But the Kiwis understood. I just had to say: “He’s Australian, bless him” and we would get the knowing nod: “Ah, yes...that explains it.” i.e. why I am casually browsing the shelves as he is huddled by the fire appearing to demonstrate distinct signs of hypothermia.

Though it was 8°C at the time so I told him it was kinda understandable. It wasn't like I was busting out my bikini or anything either.

So as I write, I am listening to the delicate sprinkles of rain on a tin roof and smiling to myself; though if I'm honest, said rain is actually trying very hard to turn into a torrential downpour. Which would be lovely if I was working on a novel and didn't need to walk down to the rec room where the wifi is to publish this....

*Sigh*

Well at least on a positive note there isn't any lightning

Yet

Have a good one and I'll check in with you all next week!