Now while I don't wish to cast aspersions on the storm itself (a few have been calling it Cyclone Shazza, but it doesn't meet the Australian criteria for a cyclone, which are all along the lines of Catastrophic and City Flattening), it hasn't actually been that bad here. It's been bad up in the Hunter Valley, where floods have ripped away houses and lives, which is a genuine tragedy. But down here where the population densities are much higher, most of the city is built in rational places, accepting that winds will blow, waters will rise, and there could well be the odd bushfire around the edges. So we've lost some cars, some roofs and some beachfront so far. It could be much worse.
So the only adventures have been getting to and from work (and school for those super-cute kids on the bus this afternoon) wihtout being soaked, blown away, or whacked by a falling tree. All it requires is adaptability and keeping an ear and eye out. And an acceptance that some of the garden will need significant work in the near future.
Unless you're one of 4000 unlucky people who are currently on a cruise ship, outside Sydney Heads. With the harbour closed to shipping. For probably another 24 hours minimum, maybe 48. And there are 800 kids in that lot, two thirds of which will be having The Time Of Their Lives, the remaining third of which will be vomiting like bastards. To put it in context, the ship is not in any real danger, aside from uncomfortable pitching and some breaking glass as things go flying, their power and lavatories are all functional (unlike that ship in the Caribbean the other year) and there is plenty of food and drink.
But as I watch another dahlia topple, through the glass doors, I am profoundly grateful to be here, in my watertight if somewhat wuthering house, not there.