Pub Power

It's 5pm-ish and I am lying in bed, watching it rain. Rain? It's a serious downpour. And every now and then, it looks like someone is tipping a whole bucket out of the sky. Great entertainment.

"The power is out", announces my husband as he comes inside. "Oh", I mull the thought over in my head. Not surprising really. Whenever forces of nature get serious, it's pretty much guaranteed that the power will go out. "The whole region is out", comes an update from Pete. "Where's the number for the Toolshed? If they've got power, let's go out for dinner." "Oh", I ponder the idea of dinner at the Toolshed.

A few minutes later I manage to call the Toolshed - their power has just come back on, and yes they are cooking dinners. We're in the car and on our way. Doesn't matter that our power has just come back on as well. The pull of sitting at their rough cut tables, drinking beer from a jug, and devouring a mixed grill while rubbing shoulders with local men with big beards is far too strong.

While we're there, we even manage to fire up the juke box, and Sabina and I do some boot scooting ballet on the unpolished wooden floor.