In the haste of my self-indulgent hard done by weather rant I neglected to tell you the worst of it all. During the terrific storms, the torrential rain, the gale force winds that can even ground a ferry on a lake, we had snow. Yes, snow. We have spent 6 months at 3000m in the heart of the French Alps desperate for the stuff but whilst we are staying by 1 of the prettiest lakes in the world & our own private swimming pool, not 100m meters above us it snowed almost every evening. Now I’m no meteorologist & I don’t quite know how these things work but even though it was somewhere between 20-30 degrees every day (even in the rain) we was surrounded by snow capped peaks. They wasn’t quite the mountains that we were used to seeing but from my extensive engineering & surveying background the lake was about 700m above sea level, our apartment was about 500m above that & within a good pissing distance was snow. Every fucking night. What the fuck is all that about?
Now all this is, for us at least, a bit annoying but let’s get serious about our luck for a moment. It rained in a desert for 45min whilst we were there for 45 minutes when it hadn’t rained for 4 YEARS, it rained for a week in a place that boasts an average of 360 days a year of sun, we arrived in Sydney in the heart of the worst forest fires NSW has ever experience – not long after that the rain had put them out, we spent our 1st & only week of our camping experience in the middle of a freak cyclone & now? We are about to visit a place that is prone to volcanic activity & is over due an eruption by 14 years!! We all know in geological terms 14 years is barely a blink of the eye but consider the fact that Vesuvius (of the Pompei killing fame) has been spunking its load into the Nepalese sunset on a constant 30 year cycle, a cycle that has never had its wheels buckled & has plodded along its merry Volcanic path since the Romans invented the gorgonian calendar. Being so regular the little fella’s out here have got quite good at dealing with the molten laver that threatens their pasta trees but this additional time is a worry, an extra 50% load on top of the usual money shot. Imagine you’re a regular once an hour farter, then imagine going to a crowded cinema with a hot new date & having to hold onto last nights curry, just in case, then on the way out discussing how that little that Cruise fellow must really be a gay you let it out. Its going kill the people in the immediate vicinity instantly, then it going to set fire to the metal escalators which will then explode sending cogs into the surrounding restaurants which will ignite all the gas sending a gigantic fire ball into the nearby substation which will then have catastrophic power surge magnetising the power station which will suck all the planes out of the sky & the resulting mushroom cloud will be potent enough to go out on dates with its friend from Chernobyl. That’s why we don’t hold in the fart. That’s just our fat arses; imagine what’s going to happen when it’s a giant mountain! That’s what’s going to happen when we get down to the Amalfi coast. It’s just our luck!
On the plus side, we have bought an internet key (formally known as a dongal) & it works. We have the web at last!
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