Screen saviour

Screen technology has a place.  I don’t agree with parents allowing children to suck on the electronic screen nipple simply because it keeps kids occupied and quiet.  However texting is one example of convenient screen technology use.  In the days leading up to our departure Pam and I were in regular texting contact.

     Pam:  I’m bringing the crafts.

     Me:  Have a CASA approved paper plane book.

     Pam:  Can you bring a volley ball?

     I am not a sportsperson.  I first had to think, What is a volley ball?  Then, Where would I buy one? In the time I was thinking, Pam solved the problem.  My phone beeped, the screen flashed.

     Pam:  Forget that.  Found one.

     Me:  Have Scrabble and sketching stuff so will do art lessons. 

     Pam:  Bringing Articulate.

     Me:  Have ukuleles.  What else can I bring?  Need wet weather activities in case rain.

     Pam:  There won’t be rain.

     
I flagged my concerns to Alf who hired us the camper trailer.

     ‘Where’re you heading?’

     ‘Couple of hundred kms wets of Rocky.’

     ‘You’ll be right.  It won’t rain out there.’

     I asked a man at the Nogoa Caravan Park.

     ‘Where ya going?’

     ‘Couple of hundred kms west of Rocky.’

     ‘Won’t rain out there.’

     My memories of Hinemoa were dust and grass and a hundred shades of beige.  We were heading to the dry country and the desolate landscape we covered after leaving Charters Towers convinced me we were in for a hot, dry vacation.  I had no concerns about keeping the kids entertained with wholesome educational and physical activities.  And I wouldn’t have to deal with a sodden camper trailer.

     Even when news of Cyclone Ita reached us via email, I wasn’t worried about rain reaching Hinemoa.  After all, there had been unseasonal rain a fortnight earlier so we were high and dry. 

     Ashlea was house sitting for us and with help from our wonderful neighbours, Chris and Sarah, she moved the big pot plants and other heavy stuff inside. In the days before the cyclone, we sweltered in the midday heat and waited for news from Ash about the cyclone. I giggled at the photos Ash sent of the ducks frolicking in the pond that was our backyard.  We oohed and aahed at the images of the water creeping up the bricks towards the back door, satisfied the sand bags Ash sourced would save the day.

     We were having a ball.  The kids rode Womby the pony or the four-wheeler, some went hunting. At midnight Sutchy shot a rabbit with his bow, hacked off a leg, cooked it on the fire and ate (some of) it.  There were swims in Perch Creek or rather, pools of water remaining from the recent rainfall.

     Seffy and Joey taught themselves the ukeleles.  Bruce took one, two or all of the kids in the ute when he went to routinely check the pumps, but always with Arthur.  There was a lot of card playing.  Archie knocked up some deadly paper planes.  Seffy and Joey made a cake. Daisy iced those Gail pulled from the freezer. 

     And many more hours were spent playing cards and even more sitting around yarning.     

     In the wee hours of Sunday morning, when I was groggy with sleep and snug under Gail’s feather doona, a novel sound enveloped the camper trailer.  It reminded me of falling snow.  But I was too sleepy to make the connection.  

     When I woke at six to prepare for our early start to horse riding at Myella, a home-stay with a pool an hour away, I stepped through the canvas door into a puddle.

     Oh, shit. 

     The rain wasn't heavy, but constant.  Horse riding at Myella was cancelled.  Riding Womby and the four-wheeler was out.  Hunting and swimming was off the menu.  
     'There's nothing to do,' said Kibby.
     'Why can't we go horseriding?' said Joey.
     The kids needed to be occupied and suddenly my principles about meaningful screen-free activities seemed meaningless.  

     Screen technology has a place.  There was an iPad claimed by Seffy and Joey, Gail’s computer for Daisy, my computer for Kibby and the TV for Archie and then they’d all swap.  Sutchy and Ruby were off somewhere.  I needed peace.  When a child started whingeing about being bored I told them to find a spare screen or share one.

     ‘Surely you can play Minecraft on my computer,’ I said, ‘or watch iView or something.  Go.’
     And when Gail and I needed to check the RACQ for road condition reports for our impending departure given the post-Ita flooding, we simply ousted a child from one of the computers.  And made sure they were back on ASAP. 
 There was peace and quiet.    

     Then we’d go back to putting another load of wet clothes and towels in the washing machine or another load of washing in the dryer.  Twelve people make for a lot of dirty clothes. Then trouble struck.  At dusk, Tony discovered the canvas of the camper trailer was leaking in several places and the mattress and doona were wet.       There was no screen to save us.