We live close enough to the sea to grizzle about jet-skis. On a hot afternoon with the back door open to let in the breeze, the dominant noise in the neighbourhood was those dirt-bikes of the sea. While annoyed, I had time for a moment of snobbish pride that I lived in a neighbourhood with such a classy plague.
Monday was the first day of reasonably big surf and high tide since we've been here. As the homeward bus came around the corner from Beach Rd into the Esplanade, the passengers all said "ooo-aaaaah" in unison, at the sight of big breakers thumping. Someone said "My God - look at the pontoon". The little pontoon was leaping about fit to brain any surfer that got close, and quite a few were. The person who said "look at the pontoon" went on to say "They reckon its going to be 39° on January 22nd!" This was on January 8th.
"How the hell do they know that already?" said her mate.
"It was on the blah blah".
"Yes, but how do they know it ALREADY
"Well blah blah... [inaudible].." and we were at my stop. So I don't know how they know that already.
That night when I got up at about 3am, there was a roaring noise coming in through the toilet window, from the backyard direction. In a woolly 3am way I thought "bloody council truck road work bull dozer angle grinder chainsaws!" and I was back in bed and three-quarters asleep before it occurred to me that it was the sea.