As summer kicks in, I’m loading up on ice blocks again. I certainly don’t want a repeat of 2017…
I didn’t used to be a fan of cold weather, but my first summer in Toogoolawah converted me. I was expecting that I could tough it out. After all, Queenslanders are used to the heat. I had a fan and a freezer full of ice-blocks. That’s got me through a lot of Brisbane summers, and it appeared – by its conspicuous absence – that air-conditioning hadn’t been considered a necessity by any former residents of the house. My little cottage had endured more than seventy summers without the benefit of air-con.
Those days are gone though. Now, there is air-con. So what changed my mind?
Well…
In mid-January, just before the hot weather really punched in, daytime temps were around 28°C. Not disgusting, but not the most pleasant for working in the garden. I have virtually every weed known and, being country weeds, they’re tough. No poncy little weeding fork for these things. I battled them with a mattock, and only because I was too cheap to hire a bobcat.
I was sensible about it though, I thought. I only worked in the mornings and drank plenty of water and electrolyte drinks. Afternoons were filled with leisurely pursuits. For a week, this was the routine and I was making a serious impact on my weed infestation. And I was keen to have the yard looking respectable because I was expecting a visit from dear country friend of mine.
So, on the day she was due to arrive, I only spent a couple of hours hacking at the weeds before calling ‘time’ and heading inside for a shower. And everything was fine, until my friend arrived. When I heard her car pull up, I leapt off the sofa. That was a mistake. My brain spun around inside my skull like some hideous theme park ride. I just stood up too fast, I told myself.
But after inviting my friend inside after her six-hour car ride, I started vomiting. And then I found myself lying on the floor in the loungeroom. I don’t recall ever having felt so dizzy and disoriented. There was no chance I could crawl out to the car, and the thought of sitting in the doctor’s waiting room just about made me pass out.
‘Can you call an ambulance for me?’ I say.
‘For real?’ my friend replies.
I’m not one to make 000 calls lightly and I’ve never been in an ambulance before, but I knew I needed medical attention and a car ride was out of the question. So, ambulance it was. Two lovely paramedics arrived, asked lots of questions and then loaded me into the ambulance for the fifteen minute ride to the local hospital.
When we reached the hospital, the paramedic who’d been driving the ambulance says to me, ‘You’re a teacher, aren’t you?’
‘Mmm,’ I reply, now attempting to answer questions without opening my mouth, because every time I talk I want to throw up.
‘Thought so,’ she says triumphantly. ‘I remember you. In 2014, I did my final prac in the room next door to you.’
Even in my weakened state, I marvel at the injustice of my predicament. Having moved to the area only recently, I don’t know anyone around town yet. This is the first opportunity I’ve had to make someone’s acquaintance and I’m giving monosyllabic answers, can’t walk unassisted and smell like vomit. She probably thinks I’m a drug addict now.
Anyway, after I spend five hours on a saline drip, the doctor is prepared to release me into the wild again – with a stern warning to rest, keep cool and stay hydrated.
I climb into my friend’s car and she says, ‘It’s always exciting to be around you, Fisher … what do you do for an encore?’
Seriously?
‘No encore,’ I say. ‘I have to rest. Doctor’s orders.’
‘And stay cool and hydrated,’ she adds. ‘You going to get air-con now?’
And the air-con is great. Handy in winter too. According to the local mechanic, the water has been known to freeze in the pipes here in winter. Bring it on!