I had known all night as I lay in bed listening to the bucketing rain that I’d better dress in dark clothes again today because of the mud. After a decade of drought, the rains have come. Last year we had about average rainfall (which is 550mm) and so far this year we’ve had about half the average with our ‘rainy’ months of winter yet to come.
At our place, this has meant mud. 32mm last night is definitely enough to turn our rock hard driveway into a sinking slippery mass of clay. We’ve lived here for 20 years so I should be used to it but the irony is that our half built carport stands waiting for its concrete but the truck can’t come because of the sinking slippery mass of mud. So a thought occurred to me: there would be people out there, especially city dwellers, who may have to worry about rain but never about the mud. They leave their houses, step onto footpaths or driveways, hop into cars or trains or trams, step out and into their office buildings. No problems with dirty shoes or trouser cuffs. No need, perhaps, to wear dark clothes to hide the mud splashes. How strange would that be…
Nevermind. I was reading about Kim Miller today. In an interview about his book They told me I had to write this he said he completed the first draft in five days of frantic and inspired writing. To me, that means he had 5 free days somewhere in order to do this. I’m reminded of Glenda Millard telling me how she wrote 10,000 words of a novel while she was on a short holiday once. And of Sara Douglass (who used to live in our town) saying that she wrote 10,000 words a day! Great chunks of writing if you have the time.
I have time-envy again. It’s never going to go away. A bit like the mud.