It's an ill storm...

At our Word Play group we were recently given the writing prompt: ‘a time when the weather really affected an occasion’ – I recalled this event.

Our pommy friends the Budds were dotty about going to Doyles when they visited us in Sydney. They always included a meal at the beachfront seafood restaurant in their plans when they stayed with us. They faced no protests. Watson’s Bay is one of Sydney’s most picturesque spots and overseas visitors are blithely unaware of the nearby Gap and its grim associations.  Doyle’s faux newspaper menus (a nod to more affordable fish and chip meals) are iconic and its food fantastic. It was a balmy summer evening when six of us gathered at a table overlooking calm harbour waters. Me, my husband Bob, mother Brenda and sister Belinda, our English guests, the elfin Tricia and her partner Chris, somewhat lobster hued from his sun exposure the previous day.

A shamelessly manipulated and anachronistic image of Chris Budd (sorry)

As the sun set the Harbour Bridge was silhouetted against tangerine and violet striated skies. We walked on the sands and dipped our toes in the water waiting for our meals to arrive. White wine was consumed, chatter and jokes were shared. The evening promised to be another memorable one.

Sunset with Harbour Bridge (searched 'royalty free' but forgot to note source - tch, tch)

Sydney is known for its sudden wild winds, ‘southerly busters’, which arrive dramatically as respite from long humid summer days. However this day had been warm and mild. We were unprepared when a gust caught the edges of one of the large umbrellas covering the tables. Within seconds the umbrellas were rolling and tossing and threatening to become airborne. The now dark skies were rent with lightning and thunder growled drowning conversation. Rain fell in swirling torrents. We and our table contents were drenched. Diners scattered jostling one another as they sought shelter. Chaos reigned. We weren’t distressed but laughed at our predicament as we huddled soaked through under an awning surveying the devastation.

Then, just as suddenly as it began, the rain subsided and the wind dropped. Most patrons had settled their bills during the disruption and headed out the door. We hadn’t asked for our check yet so lingered soggily. Chris and Bob helped the staff re-erect the umbrellas and straighten the tables and chairs.

Welcome Douglas!

Something on the shining courtyard floor beneath one of the tables caught my eye.  A glistening grey rectangle imprinted with the balaclava-clad image of an Australian more used to severe weather than us, Douglas Mawson. When the heavens opened they had soaked us but had also brought a gift. This was the 1980s and a one hundred dollar note made a significant contribution to the cost of our meal.