Alfred is so vain

He probably thinks this post is about him. He'd be right.

If he were a person you would say "Alfred, eff off" and even your mother would have to agree that Alfred deserves such language.

22-2 was the beginning of his time as a cyclone. The other reason that that date is stuck in my mind is that exactly one third of that day was spent in a local establishment akin to a freezer.

Early Alfred shook himself up to huffability, but every day they predicted something different he would test his developing skills and do the opposite.

"Stay a 5 for 24 hours and disappear beyond the horizon"  the boffins said. 

Frankly, Alfred was not the loudest concern in the room here, as we have had an avalanche of appointments and tests - the upshot of which has actually been mostly positive answers, just a winding path getting there. A bit like Alfred.

That has combined with an explosion of fresh requirements at work, part of which was a result of annoying Alfred making more rumble.

He did not do what he was told and had not gone away a week ago - when the winds blew stronger and waves arose - and so the boffins said "Alfred's coming in but he's only a little one, he'll sneak on through and you'll hardly notice him, hope he'll bring the farmers rain."

Well, he's not the sort of scallywag that gets told to do something mature. Something helpful. Something quiet and unnoticeable.

"Eff that" he thought, as he started kicking cans and wandered away further South.

The boffins said "very rarely do they spin back this way once they do that, but if that happens it will be the first time in fifty years. How special. But he's not going to" said the boffins.

On Monday I realised that i was due to have my annual check at HB.

After the unblogged palaver of last year, an organised former version of me had sorted accommodation, booked the cattery and even told my family they were to come with me and we were going to have a holiday in HB and enjoy ourselves, dang it!

That version of me didn't have an Alfred, did she?

On Tuesday the deposit left my bank.

Now, before I go on, let me reiterate that I am not saying that I am some deity that has some secret superpower that I can control natural disasters - but I think that Alfred may have heard this as a taunt and turned around to hear who had thrown this gauntlet. 

Was it Brisbane, egged on by the Broncos and Lions wavering on season opening spectaculars? Or perhaps the Sunny Coast with Surf club meets, or the Goldie just being fabulous? Was it the sight of poor Lismore trying to cower down away from Alfred's gaze? 

Perhaps it a combination of all of the above and the disaffected dithering of an adolescent cyclone, dancing and darting and promising Thursday landings.

 "He'll be gone by tomorrow" the boffins said, "but it's a cyclone, you never can tell."

Wednesday.

Dear Jeanie, we regret to inform you that your amazing specialist (who holds clinics at weekends as she covers a whole heap of communities along the east coast of Queensland) cannot attend your appointment this weekend at HB as she is going up against Alfred first hand this weekend

And I thought "watch out Alfred."

But the money was out of the bank and we were going to have a holiday in HB and enjoy ourselves, dang it!

The Dr will block him.

However the accommodation office closed at 6 and I wouldn't be able to travel down to HB in less than an hour so I messaged the property. No answer. 

I emailed the property. No answer.

Thursday, I rang the property.

When I told the gentleman of my issue, he asked what property as he had several. When I told him, he said "well, you won't be staying there as there is currently no bathroom and no kitchen." and told me his tale of a labyrinth of agencies and platforms and that I was the sixth he had had to give this spiel to and this is their number.

Well,I thought, 6 people have rung this number and nothing has changed. I didn't ring that number. I rang the platform that I had made the booking through. "English speakers" it promised.

Ex-cru-ci-ating hold music was my penance for the perseverance required to get to the English-speaking human. I told him my tale. He needed clarification and asked if they could try to find me an alternative.

"No." I said. "The holiday is ruined already. This is just the last straw. I want a refund." I said. 

I must admit, there was a tiny part of me doing a jig at the prospect of not packing bags, packing the car, logistics of school, work, cattery, travel, expense not to mention the have a holiday and enjoy ourselves concept - but I wasn't going to tell him that. And also, there was an Alfred.

Twelve more minutes of hold and I was free. I shall expect to see my refund in 7-12 days.

Hooray, I thought.

Alfred didn't land Thursday, he just mesmerised the audience with idly contemplating the pretty pictures he was making in memes.

Friday Alfred had stopped thinking and was just zoning out to some sort of wavelength of his own, being a real teenage boy and not doing what he was told.

Pushed out to the Saturday and still he seemed unable to either commit or follow instructions.

It's not that bad, we told ourselves. Bit of wind. Poor northern NSW have copped it yet again, but those poor beggars can't win a trick. We're good. Pity about the grocery situation. Still, it's better to be over prepared. Ready for next time.

We later found Alfred hunkered down near Bribie and we all wondered - what there was to do there for that long, especially with the bowlsie shut?

But who cares, he's an ex-TC.

Now, for those who haven't played here for long, the above was sarcasm. 

Because my history has very  much had some shaping from such beasts as ex-TCs

Alfred did indeed hear someone whisper "either $#!+ or get off the can" because he most certainly did get off the can and moon the spectators.

That was yesterday.

Today, Brisbane is flooded and houses are wrecked.

Parts of the Gold Coast are flooded. Parts of the Sunshine Coast are wrecked.

Northern NSW is flooding. Poor beggars.

This morning, Alfred reached around and smacked HB on the outside ears. Out of the blue, at 3am the heavens opened and delivered a deluge of the equivalent of a foot of water and tree-snapping winds.

To the North of us also there have been storms. To the West - rain.

A heatwave, hot winds whirling, 80% humidity and a skitchy cat here tonight.

My Mum used to have a plaque in the office that said "tact is the art of telling someone to go to hell in such a manner that they anticipate the trip."

Someone needs to apply a little tact and convince Alfred that it's his own idea to just eff off.

My second cousin once removed wouldn't mind seeing you when you are ready to do what you are told, Alfred.

In the meantime. - -