Rain, Rain, go away.
It’s rainy season here in Java, Indonesia, and honestly, there hasn’t been that much heavy rain in the past few weeks, I think the heavens have been saving it all up for today… when I really wanted to go surfing. But I’m not skilled or daring enough to surf in a thunderstorm, not yet anyway.
I’ve heard that Summer in my old home Melbourne has turned wintery, with buckets of ice falling from the sky. At least it’s still lovely and warm here. Wet, but still wonderfully (sweaty) warm.
The dark grey clouds have covered our sweaty village like a jumper pulled over your head on a hot day. It makes your skin prickle. And the rain pours. Soaking the floors of my house. Making the cobbled, mottled, pot-holed filled village tracks very slippery, and keeping everyone inside. Even the village dogs find somewhere to hide in the rain. Under a house, a bike, in an old shed. Everyone retires to nap and watch Indonesian soaps… I’d do that, but I’m not tired, and I don’t understand the soaps.
So here I am. On my own (with Sam my wet puppy who ran in from the rain and promptly passed out on the kitchen floor), in the house that rain built. With a beautiful big water feature pouring through my ceiling and muddying my sparkling clean floors.
I’ve finished all of my home renovations for a while. I finished my two giant murals and we’ve done up the bedrooms and recovered the couches and installed a television. It’s all very exciting really. But it’s done, and because of the wonderful frivolity of creative work – I am, not unusually I might add, out of work.
What to do… what to do…
Tropical, barefoot, and in need of motivation and inspiration… or just a good friend to share a cup of tea and a movie with.