SURVIVING KATRINA

Yesterday morning I looked out from our 17th story condo and watched as the normally turquoise sea turned an ugly shade of grey and then disappeared under a lowering sky. Katrina was on her way, and having flirted with the coastline and confused all the pundits, she finally set her sights on Aventura and came barrelling in directly at us. For the last two years, we have been like deep fielders, watching as Charlie, Frances, Ivan and Jeanne came within reach and messed with our weather, but this time, the ball had been bowled straight at us and it was time to do that Floridian thing known as "hunkering down". In order to hunker correctly, the first course of action is a trip to the gas station to ensure that the petrol tank is full. Quite where anyone plans to go is dubious as we are an eight hour drive from anything remotely approaching rising ground, and if you flee to the West coast of Florida, you can bet your bottom dollar that the hurricane will seek you out and send you fleeing back to the East coast. The next item on the list is a trip to Publix Supermarket, that Aladins Cave of daily supplies. Thanks to our camping trips, we are normally stocked with tinned goods, batteries and suchlike, but I am always intruiged to see those shoppers who feel that they cannot possibly face the wrath of Mother Nature without at least four cases of coke cans, enough Krispy Creme donuts to re-sink the Titanic and sufficient bread products to feed the orphans of Africa for a week. Cash tills ring with glee as everyone goes into mild panic mode while outside, the sun is still shining and the palm fronds wave gently in the breeze. However, word has been given by the High Priests of Hurricanes, the reporters of Channel 10 news, and the Governor of the State, George Bush's brother Jeb, has also given us a few comforting words. Sadly he has had regular practice in making this speech over the past two years, so much so that he is forever linked in many people's minds as "The Hurricane Governor". It then remains to return home with the supplies, bring down the storm shutters and settle in front of the TV to see how the expected onslaught is progressing. You are now ready to Hunker, and in fact you are in Hunker mode which requires the consumption of such wicked items as chocolate, donuts, endless cups of coffee and a comforting bowl of ice cream. None of these things would normally pass our lips during bright sunny weather, and definitely come under the heading of Hunker food. At least this year we didn't feel the urge to bring out the dominoes and play endless games while the storm shutters clattered and the wind screamed about the building. This time, Jean plugged in his computer and worked all day and I wrote a couple more chapters of the new novel. We are obviously becoming old hands at the Hunkering! Of course for many folks, the power goes out and this means the air conditioning stops. To be penned up in a hot house with fractious children or scared family members while facing rising water, flying debris and possible house collapse is a very different thing than sitting in the comfort and safety of our apartment, and our thoughts go out to those poor souls who have days of mopping up and possibly months of reconstruction ahead. I drove Jean to the office this morning and it was like driving through the film set of some Hollywood disaster movie. The streets that were largely ungoverned by traffic signals, were littered with trees, branches, palm fronds and general mess, but the Floridians were out and about, some wading knee deep, some frolicking waist deep, many shovelling, mopping and digging, but within a week or so, it will all be back to normal, or as normal as Miami ever is. And just think folks - we are only halfway through the season!