On Phillip Island it's literally blowing a gale: a hot northerly with bush fire alerts covering most of Victoria. With our home town of Mitchell underwater, it's a stark contrast.
Doug left Phillip Island this morning, heading for Mitchell. He hopes to arrive by Tuesday. I'll stay here on Phillip Island with our menagerie. I'm booked in to have a hernia operation on 14 February.
Meanwhile, here on the island, two full rubbish bins have blown over in the gale, scattering rubbish down our street. So I've been running after and retrieving rubbish before it ends up in the mutton bird rookery or the sea.
Major and Del tell me it's too hot and too windy for them to go outside, and Katie is content to stretch out in an armchair, and sleep.
Talking of sleeping, neither of us slept much last night. Somehow it seemed impossible to turn off the thoughts that were whizzing around in our minds. Concerns about our friends and neighbours in Mitchell, visions of our home waist deep in muddy water, of mould, insurance payouts, the massive cleanup, retrieval of anything not damaged -- -- -- and of my one and only St Francis manuscript.
With my body on Phillip Island and my mind in Mitchell I feel very dislocated. I am fortunate, I know, to have a home on Phillip Island as well as Mitchell, so I'm certainly not complaining. Nevertheless it hurts, and my heart aches for the people in Mitchell (and all the other towns in the region such as Charleville, Roma and St George) suffering loss and hardship through flooding.
Please know that I'm with you in thought, and Doug is on his way.
PS
Late yesterday afternoon a large gas ship passed by our seascape, leaving in its wake a striking sunset.
Awsome post and right to the point. I am not sure if this is truly the best place to ask but do you people have any ideea where to employ some professional writers? Thanks :)
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