Minor Catastrophes

The weather report yesterday said there had been minor flash flooding in parts of Sydney. Minor flash flooding? That sounds like catching a little bit of plague. Flash floods bring to mind images of huge sheets of water pouring over the landscape with the obligatory flooded cars and occasional cow standing on a hilltop. In fact I'll bet if flash floods hit the centre of Sydney the news media would still find a cow standing on a hilltop to film.

So what is a minor flash flood? I think it could best be described as a flood which pours through the house of the neighbour you dislike but nowhere else. You can sit snug in your own home and watch with that combination of excitement and glee that comes from being very close to a disaster but not being affected by it. Make yourself a cup of coffee as that guy who always plays his stereo at three in the morning watches his home float down the road. Keep an eye on the tv journalists in case they try to smuggle a cow onto the scene.

Fortunately none of my neighbours homes have been washed away in the recent downpour. I say fortunately because I live in a flat and my neighbours actually inhabit the same building as me. Nevertheless I can't help feeling a little smugness at the generally watertight nature of my little home despite the fact that I have the windows open thus admitting a gentle spray into each room. I find good airflow is more important than one hundred percent dryness.

A hideous gouge in my bedroom ceiling stops me from being too thrilled at the misfortune of others. My flat is indeed waterproof but that gouge which actually reveals some of the iron reinforcement shows that this was not always the case. The building I live in is solid in an unimaginative sort of way but a little skimping was done on the eaves causing serious water damage to the top floor flats (like mine) before it was repaired. The bedroom ceiling carries the scars of a soggier time.

Meanwhile out in the countryside we have the amusing situation of a drought stricken landscape under a sheet of water. I've often wondered how we ever managed to farm anything in this country when our agricultural community seems to go from needing drought relief to flood relief without any time in between to actually do agriculture. In fairness a number of farmers have been on the news recently saying how delighted they are with the rain despite being up to their neck in it while actually being interviewed. Naturally on small hillocks around their properties cows stand eyeing each other in some embarrassment and wondering if its too late to turn carnivore.

In the Blue Mountains a landslide blocked the railway tracks and derailed a train although not seriously; another minor catastrophe. Trains were, of course, interrupted with a better excuse than is normally provided but City Rail promises to have services running late and out of timetable order as soon as possible. My parents live in the Blue Mountains and apparently the rain caused their house to move. It moves in dry weather too. I feel a little nervous about the scar on my bedroom ceiling, meanwhile my parents house is doing the twist. Fortunately its made out of wood. If it had been made out of brick it might be doing the crumble by now.

Minor catastrophes are great because they allow people to step up and help their fellow person safe in the knowledge that they will make a real difference. Major catastrophes don't allow that. Take the relief effort in Haiti as an example. If everything goes well and all the efforts of the aid and relief people are crowned with success, the population are still going to be wretchedly poor and living in filth without any hope of a better life unless they can float across to America on an inner tube. That's the good option; if the relief efforts fail things will be worse, somehow.