ALL RISE. IT’S TIME FOR THE WEATHER REPORT.
Farmers live by the weather report. It’s a holiness equal to the opening of parliament. And in our house, we don’t live by just one weather report on one TV channel. Nope. Immediately after the weather guy on channel 132 has done his thing in English, farmerhusband changes over to channel 111 to listen to almost EXACTLY the same predictions in Afrikaans. Just in case the English guy got it wrong…
The weather girl on 111 used to be extremely nervous. The woman never breathed. NOT ONCE. By the time she was finished I felt light headed on her behalf.
She also never swallowed. I know this because I did the same thing when my mother forced me to sing a solo on stage in the local Eisteddfod when I was in grade 10.
Sheer terror does that to a person. I was a cute Eisteddfod solo singing candidate at the age of 6. Not so much at the age of 16 . But lets let that sleeping dog lie….
Back to weather girl.
Weather girl changed in front of my eyes.
One night she was doing her breathless “deer caught in headlights” routine and the next she was Miss Cool-as-a-Cucumber. She came up for air in between provinces. She swallowed. She was confident. She was flawless.
Her transformation screamed “tranquilizer! ”
Well, ok. That’s what it screamed to me. ( being somewhat of an expert on the subject . See “What PND felt like” if you’re curious)
I was proud of weather girl. She had come a long way. I could now watch her while we both breathed and without the Eisteddfod flashbacks.
Also, it became a habit of mine telling the serious weather – watching husband how many tablets I think she’s had. ( “Two!” on a good night and “she’s only taken a half!” on a wobbly night. Yes, I know. It’s sad the things that amuse us when we’re bored out of our minds. )
He doesn’t appreciate my diagnostic abilities. He is concentrating after all. “Two! “, “1 and a half! ” and “no, girl, you shoulda taken more! ” doesn’t go down all that well.
Which makes it all even funnier to me.
Sad. I know.