WHAT DO YOU DO on a wet weekend? We have had so few of them in the last year or so that it did indeed present a problem. In the end we took the boring, well-trodden route of taking in a movie.
Mistake No 1: I let my husband choose the movie. Indiana Jones.
Mistake No 2: We chose the first session of the day - 10.00am on a Saturday, which left time to do the supermarket shopping later in the day. We had forgotten that our local Mega Movie House now allocates the seats - no more wandering in and doing a random. We trundled upstairs after purchasing our tickets and were about 10th in the line waiting to enter our individual theatres. The only problem was that at 5 to 10 there was no member of staff in sight to tear our tickets and order us to enjoy the movie. The woman in front of us nervously wondered out loud if they would start the session without us. Of course they would. At 3 minutes past 10 an unhurried young man sauntered up to the pedestal at the head of the queue. At last some action. Wrong. He stood looking down at some paperwork (good heavens, man, all you had to do was tear the tickets!) and took out his you-beaut two-way walkie-talkie. He was soon joined by a teenage girl and they both studied the paperwork. Then suddenly they looked up and without a word of apology, allowed us to enter the inner sanctum. Of course, the theatre was plunged into darkness, with commercial movies playing to an empty house. We all stumbled along in the pitch black and somehow found our allotted rows. However, the seat numbers, located by feel, were not to be read by the human eye. Tony whipped out his mobile phone (naughtily, he had not turned it off yet) and by the light of the screen, he was able to become an honorary usher and showed many poor lost souls to their seats. His name will be put up in the New Year Honours List.
All this to see an ageing Indy puff his way through a very poor story line. Harrison - what were you thinking of?
Today was the sort of day to stay at home and catch up on some sewing (me) and reading (Hisself). At last the rains are falling in the dams as well as on Brisbane, so the threatened further water restrictions (drink your own spittle) may be held off for a few weeks.
I know our poor neglected garden appreciated the drenching.