One of our favourite weekend excursions is to walk across the Sydney Harbour Bridge, and take the ferry home. It’s been a while, so we did it again today, even though rain was threatening.
So picture us – three adults, with three small boys. They’d been cooped up a bit in the last few days, so they alternated between racing each other and pretending to be statues hiding in plain sight all the way across the harbour bridge. Just as we got to our favourite cafe in the Rocks, it started pouring with rain. We managed to get to a small break in the rain to get to the ferry, but by the time we got there, the heavens had opened. So up the hill we had three small boys, who had just figured out how much fun puddlestomping is, investigating each blocked drain, using spare branches as umbrellas, and just generally having a wonderful time.
Sydney summer rain is a wonderful feeling, if you can let yourself experience it. It’s never cold, and it rains so hard that umbrellas and raincoats are generally futile, so if you let yourself get soaked and enjoy it, you can have a marvellous time.
Some of my treasured memories come from being caught in Sydney rainstorms, and surrendering myself to the soaking I was getting. I hope that Chatterboy and Hungry Boy, and their friend Scooter Boy, will remember this one.
We have had nonstop rain here for four days. The puddles are monumental — one on my block stretches all the way across the road. My son stomped all the way through it so that he was thoroughly soaked. It looked like so much fun I thought I might try it too — but, you know, it’s winter here. Not quite 40 degrees. Yikes!