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Thursday, January 30, 2014

Apparently there IS a CYCLONE coming after all.

Cyclone Dylan

I was in a spot of bother the other day on Twitter when I announced to my followers (some awesome people, some unidentified bots and numerous cats and dogs) that a cyclone was ominously hurtling towards us. 

A physics professor from the local university chipped me (and rightly so) about sending out alarming and non-factual information… so I deleted the tweet immediately.

Now, it seems that there IS a cyclone heading towards us and it is predicted to make landfall about 100 kms south of our city early tomorrow morning. As I gaze out the window it does appear to be a bit windy outside and spitting lightly, but nothing to write home about yet. 


That’s the trouble with cyclones. They’re quite unpredictable. They can spin around, head back to sea and come back with a vengeance. Or they can change track, build in intensity and cause massive tide surges and devastating floods.

The big question however is… will school be cancelled tomorrow?

“You must be hoping so, Pinky!” I hear you jeering.

The truth is, no, I don’t want school to be cancelled.

The announcement won’t be broadcast until 6:00 am tomorrow morning and if I have to haul my menopausal body out of bed at that ungodly hour (after feverishly waking every hour bathed in sweat, on the hour, every hour) to check the Internet for notifications, I may as well get up, have a shower and go to bloody work.

That’s the only reason I dislike work at all in the first place. 

Getting out of bed in the morning.

It’s only three days into the school year but I can already tell I have a delightful class this year. One of my little nine year old students walked past me in the playground yesterday and lisped, “I love you Mrs. Poinker!” How could anyone resist that superstar adulation?

My class is a captive audience for me to practise my jokes on, expound my deep knowledge on various frivolous subjects to and entertain with my side-splitting anecdotes with added clowning tricks. They’re an adoring crowd… as opposed to my own kids who ceased listening to their asinine mother many years ago.

So… despite the rampant media sensationalism (by reporters who always seem to congregate in Cairns for some reason), I’m fairly certain and dearly hope Cyclone Dylan will prove to be another dud and we’ll all wake up unscathed and secure in our beds tomorrow morning. 

Stay safe everyone!