It’s time to confess.

In spite of all my journal entries that wax lyrical about the comforting sound of rain on the skylight while I’m safe and dry and drinking my morning coffee…in spite of my walking every morning – even though I am soaked and sodden by the end – all the while maintaining that I feel great from all the moisture…in spite of my gung-ho-suck-em-up- problogations of this is what it’s like to live in a rainforest and so why should I be surprised? Even though it does feel like someone was being a tad mean-spirited to call this endless monsoon area by the rather over-optimistic name of the Sunshine Coast.

In spite of, and because of, all that…I am thinking about the desert and places with palm trees. I’m thinking about heat and blue skies and warmth in my bones and flip-flops. Summer is feeling like a dim and distant dream and is already a very long time ago.

The good news-ish. I’m off to St. Lucia, though it sounds rather hellish, even though it’s also really good. Apparently I’ll be flying or in an airport for most of my adult life, just so I can twirl through St. Lucia for three days and then repeat the performance on the way home.

This could be considered crazy behaviour. Or it could be what travel writers will do in order to experience somewhere new. 

And let’s not forget. It’s still raining. And dark. It’s damned dark every day at a ridiculous time.  Did I mention the rain?