We have closed the windows on the north side of the house, as the gusts of wind are quite strong and are blowing the water in through the windows. The goldfish are in peril of floating out of the pond due to the deluge of rain which is much-needed and arriving all in a rush.
Reports in the paper are that the beaches are taking a pounding from the sea, unusual for a place which hardly ever experiences waves above 10 cm. Our banana trees are waving frantically in the wind and our chickens have retreated to their roosts, out of the direct rain in their chicken coop.
We had news this morning that my Dad’s youngest brother died in England during the early evening of Saturday 26th January. He had been in hospital a couple of months ago and went home to recuperate, but his condition worsenend. Fortunately for me, I saw him in England in 2010 when I was allowed to visit the family on my way back from Sweden. At the time, he seemed well and did not mention any major health conditions apart from those that often occur at his time of life.
Last night I was thinking of sitting at Aunty Olive’s kitchen table talking to my Uncle just like it was yesterday. I feel so grateful that I was able to catch up with him a few times while I was there, and just chat about ordinary things. His Uncle Alf, my Great-Uncle, is ninety-one and only recently stopped driving his car. My Uncle was the youngest of ten children, including my father.
Yet, the family will gather round and we are all keeping in touch to celebrate his life and think kindly of him. Dad remembers how he looked just when he was born in a tiny house where ten children were born and raised. I remember how he looks just like a younger version of my Dad, except with curlier hair.