Last night the rain started in the wee small hours. I was reading and Jim was trying to make friends with a tree frog that had inadvertently got himself stuck to our bedroom floor.
A spider was busy spinning its web in the bathroom, an assortment of flying green crickets kept plopping on my head.
I turned the fan on, an old fashioned three armed jobby that hangs from the ceiling like a Graham Greene novel. Stieg Larssons scenarios meant that I had a recurring doubt that at any moment the fan would whirr itself out of the roof and land up on our heads. So I got up and turned it off.
Jim slept through my see-sawing in and out of the bed. Into the bathroom to check the spiders progress, back under the beige macrami throw, off with the fan, under the throw, on with the fan, under the throw, into the bathroom, under the throw, off with the fan, back to bed, by midnight you would have thought I was exhausted.
By 3.00 am the rain started. There’s a rhythmic guttering just outside our bedroom, a kind of salsa beat us set up as the rain starts.
When the rain begun it sounded like the applause Bruce Forsyth might get on ‘Strictly Come Dancing’, as the raindrops got heavier and faster it sounded like the crowd from ‘Last Night of The Proms.’ By the time the heavens opened it sounded like Robbie Williams at Knebworth. I have never heard rain like it. I mused about the BBC sound effects department. How would they make the noise of rain? Back in the day it would have been a crisp packet or a box of sand, I guess it’s all done with computers now.
Well whatever way a sound engineer would choose they would have to be pretty inventive to capture the noise that came out of the skies last night.
Yep, that’s why its called the RAIN FOREST.
I got up at 6.00 and prepared food in case we were rained in. Soaked red beans, white rice, green lentils. Made up a salad of green beans, garlic and onions, then made myself a smoothie of half a ridged cucumber, some celery leaves, a delicious avocado, one crisp, red apple and a bunch of their spinach, which is unlike ours, thick stemmed and woody. Finding fresh food is difficult. The supermarket has a freezer cabinet at the back of the shop with bags of old, old, old veg. Its no wonder they live on beans and rice. I’ve stocked up on tins of coconut milk to vary the flavour of stuff.
I’m not really following the news in the UK but I did read about Rooney’s new contract, and the banks giving out massive bonuses. Being in a country like CR where there are new, gated condos serviced by very poor people, where the kids walk to school at 7.00 in the morning and the men and women have a real divide. Being in a country that is dictated to by its weather, where there isn’t very much of anything accept sun, sand, sea and rain, well it puts a kind of perspective on good old England. We are a cold bunch, arn’t we? I am the luckiest woman in the world having friends who can loan us their house. There isn’t a hope in hell of being able to afford the kind of luxury we are living in.
Back in Britain I am aware that it’s only the rich that can afford any kind of independence, the rest of us wage slaves take it on the chin. WHY? At what stage will we say we have had enough? This three weeks is about a re-evaluation for me. What is important and how do I achieve my objectives. Sometimes I think its easier being in a job that is crippling than having to really look at what you want to do in life.
As I write 5 year old Naomi, the most delicious looking little girl, Freddies daughter, is singing. She’s Costa Rican brown skinned, tiny, pretty, and has the voice of the innocent, she is singing her version of ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.’
Doesn’t matter where you are, to quote Mr.Wilde;
‘We are all of us in the gutter but some of us are looking at the stars.’
If the chuffin’ rain desists tonight I may just have a chance of glimpsing Theta Persei, or not…..