LET­TERS

Whitsunday Times - - YOUR SAY -

Bloody Deb­bie!

BAT­TEN down the hatches, tie down your chooks

Don’t mind all the tourists’ weird looks

Yes here comes a cy­clone it’s just off the coast Gen­er­ally some­what pre­pared, well bet­ter than most Gone will be the geni’s, the torches, the bread

For­get get­ting any milk, gotta keep the beers cold in­stead Get all the im­por­tant things stored away

It will make for great tall tales in the wake of the TC Deb­bie day

Taped up win­dows, the last to be done

Last run into town for bat­ter­ies ..... bug­ger they’ve got none

Move the car­a­van? Or will she be right?

Hope the power stays on, at least for tonight

Keep the kids calm and try to keep your cool

Even as you watch the neigh­bours shed fly into your pool

Marvel at the strength of the clothes­line

Seem­ing to touch its toes The majesty of the great gum tree

Now point­ing hor­i­zon­tally as the wind blows

Peeled off tin wrapped around a ma­jes­tic tree Creak­ing and sway­ing seem­ing to be aimed right at me Wasn't that roof in the right place to­day?

Hang on, not my roof ..... looks like that’s where she will stay The kids ex­claim .... Mum you said it’d only last a cou­ple of hours

Why mum why are we sleep­ing where we are sup­posed to have show­ers?

Why is the dog okay with the cat in this small space? And why are there tears run­ning down your face? When will the wind stop, where is she now, we sit and wait to hear

Telling sto­ries of storms lived through try­ing to help the kids man­age their fear

What the heck was that noise? Is that the tree, the shed, the car?

I can’t see my par­ents bus, I hope they don’t get blown too far

Count the num­ber of times the tree hits the house

Then freak out when all of a sud­den, it’s quiet as a mouse Is that the eye? The kids stare at the win­dow in won­der Then the roar of the jet en­gine starts and the house starts to shud­der

Here she comes, the mon­grel bitch

And the wind, it starts to blow The horses stand their butts to the rain

How they stay there I’ll never know

De­bris fly­ing through the air Tar­get­ing every thing in sight

The small­est of twigs in­jur­ing with­out a care

We all won­der if we will ever be al­right

'All this rain­wa­ter and not a drop to drink'

My wise dad com­ments and we stop and think

All our fresh­wa­ter gone and our mind draws a blank Makes you won­der why we didn’t check the pipe was still there to go into the tank Stripped bare and naked the trees stand tall

Who is this bitch TC Deb­bie af­ter all?

She tried to take the wind out

from un­der our sails

But com­mu­nity strength and pride al­ways pre­vails

She has tested our strength and yes we did fal­ter

But our come­back will be mag­nif­i­cent and that is some­thing she can not al­ter I don’t want to whinge and whine

But I feel blessed I wasn’t blown right past Proser­pine I’m thank­ful to have known, not to stay any­where near Bowen

Air­lie Beach thank­fully not blown too far out of our reach So in the mid­dle I did stay, to

watch this com­mu­nity sol­dier on through an­other day Thank you to all who have helped us re­turn to our feet To show that nasty TC Deb­bie that we can­not be beat I WILL never for­get the mo­ment the power came back on af­ter 12 days fol­low­ing Cy­clone Deb­bie.

I was clean­ing my unit (be­cause at least the run­ning wa­ter had re­turned) and had de­cided to call it a day just af­ter 5pm.

I was about to head down to my boat but hav­ing heard re­ports of fires in homes where power had been re­stored, I de­cided to switch all the power points off.

I had just squeezed my­self un­der the bed to reach the last one, when I looked up to see the ceil­ing fan blades start to move.

“But there’s no breeze,” I thought to my­self.

Then they started to spin faster and I barely dared to hope the power was back.

Let’s just say I have never been so ex­cited to flick a light switch in my life and judg­ing by the cheers I heard from the neigh­bour­ing streets, ev­ery­one around me felt the same.

On be­half of all our read­ers who I know share this sen­ti­ment, I would like to thank the won­der­ful Ergon and En­ergex work­ers, many of whom left their own homes and fam­i­lies to help.

I would also like to pay trib­ute to all the amaz­ing vol­un­teers and other ser­vice or­gan­i­sa­tions and groups who have given so self­lessly to help our Whit­sun­day com­mu­nity get back on its feet.

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