Tag: rain

Still grey

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Apparently, there’s a chance of some sunshine tomorrow, but for the moment, the rain keeps falling. Almost 350mm in the last 10 days now. It’s pretty miserable. This photo isn’t from today, because I’m here, not there, but I’d guess that it’s a fairly accurate representation of much of the Western Cape at the moment. Especially the bit with that lighthouse on it.

Even the much vaunted Hungarian goose down duvet has failed, and we have required additional coverage for the past couple of nights. Sure, 10 degrees or so won’t seem like a big deal to many readers, but we’re just not set up for that here. And with good reason: it really doesn’t make sense for 90% of the year. So no central heating, double glazing, warm carpets etc etc. And when it gets cold at night outside, it gets cold at night inside too.

Trump shot a bit this morning. Footy final a bit later today.

That line just for context when I read back about how much more important the crappy weather is to me than politics or sport, when I find this post in 5 years time.

A filthy day

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It’s raining.

A lot.

Dark, foreboding (and indeed currently boding) clouds are rolling across the Cape Town sky, propelled by a gusty Northwester, and dropping a lot of water on the Southern Suburbs (and elsewhere, I’d wager).

The racing at Kenilworth has been abandoned:

Following 16.5mm of rain overnight, with more rain expected throughout the day, horses were brought to the course to gallop.
The feedback was that the going was inconsistent. In the interests of the safety of both horses and riders, the race meeting scheduled for today has been abandoned.

I think that “the feedback was that the going was inconsistent.” is actually code for “the jockeys had a chat while galloping through the driving rain and – quite reasonably – decided “sod this”.”

While this rain might not seem like a good thing at the moment, we do need it. Dam levels this time yesterday were at 68.3%. Dam levels this time last year were 96.8%.
We’re a bit behind where we need to be.

But we really shouldn’t worry too much. The next ten days are packed full of precipitation:

More than 25mm already here today, and I’m very excited about our temporary rim-flow pool.

The Cape Rain Frogs are going mad in the back garden, chirping their celebratory noises at the miserable conditions. At the other end of the animal scale, the beagle – wrapped in seventeen blankets – has decided that perhaps the best way to get through today is just to sleep until tomorrow.

My thinking is that the beagle might have hit upon a rather good idea.

Two quick things…

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…because I don’t have much time today.

1. Because we were (I was) talking about rain:

Do submarines have windows?

And 2. This song by Ann Erhard. Botanical Garden:

(I’ll put the official video in here when it’s available.)

Featuring the lyrics:

He rates two out of five stars
For the botanical garden
because the plants were dry
There was no space for parking

The peacocks looked depressed and
He thought they’d be more majestic
And also not enough koi carps
And that’s why he rates two out of five stars

Shameless pop. Droll words. Amusing.

Filthy out

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Warning: Ramblings ahead.

A properly filthy day out, but because the microwave exploded yesterday afternoon, I had to go and take it to the microwave (see if we can) repair (it) shop, to see if they could repair it.

As a scientist, if ever we wanted to know what something did in a system, we would remove it from that system, and see what happened. That’s how we worked out that humans need oxygen to survive.

Probably, anyway.

The microwave, removed from the household system with what I think might be a transformer issue, is clearly very important in warming drinks, hot sacks and Saturday evening’s takeaway curry. In fact, given how much we’ve missed it already, I’d argue that it is almost as essential as the oxygen in the house. “Almost” because no-one has actually died yet, but given the rising levels of frustration each time someone tries to use the defunct microwave, there’s every chance that someone might.

Thus, when the guys at the repair place get in touch tomorrow, if the prognosis is not good, I will be buying another microwave very shortly after I take the call. I mean, RIP to the microwave and all that, but in the cold light of day, it’s a wholly replaceable kitchen appliance, not a family member – whatever it might think.

There’s no time for emotion here.

I’m heading out to my car park this evening, but such are the miserable conditions out, I might even be pushed into lighting the fire for the first time this year. I have to think of those I leave behind, see?
It’s 14oC out, and it’s been raining fairly consistently all day. 30mm so far, but I’m quite sure that there’s more on the way. It feels dark and grey and wintery, so I think that a nice fire would cheer up the living room a little.

It would also dry the washing, so there’s a practical side to things as well.

I shall do it.

One thing which has been noticeable this afternoon is the reappearance of our Cape Rain Frogs. This is the first big rain of the season, and they are already chirping away with both glee and delight, but where have they been for the 6 months of bakingly dry summer? In their burrows underground, that’s where. Because although they are frogs, they prefer stick to damp ground, because they’re a bit rubbish at anything to do with water: they can’t swim and they can drown if they get out of their depth.

Pathetic.

Right, let me sort some dinner (stove top) and light that fire. We might as well dip our toes into autumn and winter and embrace the atmosphere. Before heading to an unheated car park for 2½ hours.

INCOMING! (Winter)

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Right. That’s it. Summer ended a couple of weeks or a bit more ago, and Autumn has clearly just been bypassed.

I say this because OMG WTF BBQ have you seen the rain forecast for tomorrow and Monday in the Western Cape?

Bad in Cape Agulhas:

Badder in Cape Town:

I’ve been doing some rudimentary calculations, and that’s a lot of rain.
And this is Black South Easter rain, not a cold front. An overflowing shelf of precipitation, pinned against the Cape coast for 48 hours, not going anywhere.

Might be advisable to check your gutters ahead of the winter, like, now. Today.

And then wrap up warmly, grab some red wine, light the fire, and hunker down.