THE GREAT DRIZZLE OF 2023

As I listened to the trembling voices of L.A. weather forecasters, consumed with trepidation and terror over the alliterative power of Hurricane Hilary, I couldn’t help but wonder when my parents would call. After all, if there is a wildfire or mass shooting 1000 miles away from my location, my parents telephone to make sure I did not get caught up in the maelstrom of cataclysmic events. Yet, during the entire day on Sunday, while the historic storm tempted us with its agonizingly slow progression… no call.

As what would be considered a lovely day out in Britain continued unabated, I poured myself a Fosters lager (it was either that or Typhoon tea) and watched replays of the Lionesses World Cup final. They left nothing on the field… wait, that’s not right… they poured out their hearts onto the pitch. That’s better. I immediately bought tickets for a US women’s football match. Replays over, I turned over to Shaun of the Dead, the perfect Sunday movie and in keeping with the apocalypse gently tapping at my window. Mercifully, Hilary did not pack the punch that was initially predicted. Suddenly, the screen shook, the walls shook, my lager rippled, as a 5.1 earthquake challenged the hurricane for my attention. Twenty seconds later, I looked to my phone and stroked it in anticipation. Surely, the call would come NOW.

Nothing.

Outside, the scenes in Sherman Oaks were like nothing I’ve witnessed since… well, the uncharacteristic and seemingly unending spitting rain that doused SoCal from November 2022 to May 2023, prompting great speculation as to whether this wet weather had become the new normal in the land of eternal sunshine. I refer to those months as The Great Drizzle of 2023. That grey period will now be all-but-forgotten, thanks to Hilary.

Then it hit me. When I read on social media of a woman in Ecuador who was pronounced dead, only to wake and knock on the inside of her coffin at her own funeral, I immediately texted my expat father to ask if he shares the same doctor with this unfortunate woman.

There you have it. The torch has been passed. The child is destined to become the worrier.