March 17. Day 76. The wash up

 A phone call at 6am can only mean one of two things. 1. Something bad has happened or 2. My former neighbour Margaret wants to tell me something and has held off until a decent hour. Today was option 2. We live in this country of drought and flooding rain and in the past 48 hours we have moved from the former to the latter. From her window on the second floor Margaret is well positioned to bear witness to the impact the rain has on Kedron Brook. This morning she was so impressed by the brook which had broken its banks and covered the bridge and the path that she needed to tell someone. She also needed a witness. I was the chosen one. The thing is for 20 odd years of my life I lived in a house overlooking that same brook just down stream. I know exactly how it looks. But I went and check it out anyway (well about four hours later. I don't tend to visit anyone at 6am on a Sunday). By then the tide had turned and while the water was rushing the flooding had largely subsided. What was left was a trail of debris. It was pretty unflattering. But I took photos and returned to Margaret's room with evidence of exactly what could be seen down below. She was impressed. Job done.