BLOWIN' IN THE WIND

JAN 5 - DAY 29

Went to get my short sleeved linen shirt out of the wardrobe this morning. Not there. Wasn’t in the washing pile, ironing pile, in any drawer, on any shelf or on any hanger. Puzzling, adding to the mystery of where my favourite cargo pants went which I wore recently, as well as my grey track pants which I use for my morning walks. I doubt we have a phantom washing line clothes pincher around here, so have to assume they went skyward off the Hills hoist in the last gale.

Being an island, Tasmania is accustomed to gale force winds, and it’s not too often the evening weather report doesn’t have a high winds alert, farmers alert, bushwalkers alert, boating alert or some such dire warning somewhere in the State. Living in the shadow of the Great Western Tiers we are relatively sheltered here in Poatina, but every few months we have a doozie of a gale to remind us that even here we can’t escape the forces of nature.

On one occasion our motel restaurant which faces west caught the brunt of a continuous onslaught which blew open a glass door, smashed it and the window it hit on impact, then blew out a window inside on the opposite side of the restaurant, smashing it and depositing it in the passage outside the ladies loo. The last big one three months ago brought down fourteen trees on the golf course as well as wreaking havoc elsewhere, makes for a restless night when you think the roof might disappear. Did find some guy’s satin boxer shorts on the golf course once, no one claimed them, maybe they belonged to one of the farmers down the road.

We’ve had to insist the oldies in our community stay inside when the wind gets up. Three of our elderly ladies have literally been blown over in the wind, sustaining some quite nasty injuries, this is no ordinary wind when it gets itself worked up.

Still doesn’t explain where my gear went. I know I’m getting older but I’m not that forgetful.