13 FEET of rain a year.

Forgive agent L inc’s lack of posts, lately. We have managed to wash our smart phone in the Permanent Press Cycle, on Hot/Cold mode, and are therefore unable to post photos and photos rather than words are going to be our mainstay, we have discovered. Our days here are largely monotonous, if full and rewarding and tiring and the best AND worst of times. We ride in a catamaran 100 miles every day, informing, feeding, occasionally exhorting and cajoling, praising, pampering, and often telling reprehensible jokes to the 100-odd people who are our responsibility, life and limb, every day. We also sometimes see whales breach and bears lumbering across impossibly remote cirques and mountaintops. 

The weather here is dreadful. 

I am not coping well. 

We currently have our own personal waterfall in the backyard and my room is so chilly and my thin ghost-of-a-fleece blanket is so inadequate that even mummified in four layers of clothes, (and yes, Agent L has finally succumbed and for the first time in her life owns sweatpants) that I have woken up on more than one occasion sleep-crawling my way under the mattress pad. 

And my first real big girl apartment was an unheated attic with minimal insulation, so that should tell you something about how the damp and chill just crawl into your bones here and make themselves comfy. 

I am reminded of when I lived, briefly, in Panama with a certain Irishman who wasn’t coping well with the heat at all. I know heat: don’t move much. Don’t go in and out of air conditioned environments. Embrace the slick of salt and sweat on your skin and give in to the doziness, to the eccentric thoughts that come when you’ve nothing to do but stare at the ceiling fan going round. 

I need a cold and damp equivalent of me in Panama to guide me through this endless rain, through mornings where I think piteously to myself that I have always been cold and will always be cold. 

I am freaking cold. 

All the time. 

And it’s a damp cold such as I have never known. 

In a week or so I’ll have a new phone, and new photographs of truly beautiful things. 

Bear with me until then, and if you have any warming ideas, let me have them. I’ve already embraced sweatpants and given up on the idea that I’ll ever wear this cute madras mini I brought with me for nights on the town. The sandal wedges were likewise ill advised. More blankets are clearly in order. Any other suggestions? Joy- you live in Poland: surely you know something? 

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3 Responses to 13 FEET of rain a year.

  1. Alan says:

    . . winge, winge, winge! Be a man and lie back and think of Baltimore . . . Hmmmm! On second thoughts perhaps Capt Titus Oates’ memorable last words will help . . ‘I’m going outside – I may be some time.’

  2. Jackie says:

    You need wool. A wool blanket will keep you warm even if it rains directly over your bed. Wool socks would be great too, and a boiled wool jacket.

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