Typhoon Hagupit

I take back what I wrote about clouds. I spoke too soon. I now know that there are the sort of clouds that indicate a typhoon is cooking up a storm.

This morning, with no obvious change in the weather since yesterday, excepting the clouds which were admittedly pretty unusual, the Education and Manpower Bureau closed all nurseries and pre-schools. We knew nothing of it until the school bus failed to show so I rang the school and learnt from a recorded message that typhoon level 1 was hoisted and this could quickly become typhoon level 3 which could equally quickly turn into typhoon level 8. Goodness me, to think I had sent my children out into weather which might change. I must pay more attention to those clouds in future.

It is hard to get excited about a typhoon when the wind is still relatively light. With a pleasant breeze in the air the temperature was bearable for the first time in months. I thought it would be nice to open the windows. The neighbours’ maid was busy tying the garden furniture to the railings so I went out and fetched in the various flip-flops that were lying around in an attempt to show willing. I wondered briefly if, like the Education and Manpower Bureau, the maid knew something I didn’t so I checked the Hong Kong Observatory website.

This is what you are advised to do in the event of a tropical cyclone:

1. Complete all precautions in your home. Lock all windows and doors, fit bars into position and insert reinforced shutters and gates if they are available. Adhesive tape fixed to large window-panes in exposed positions will reduce damage by broken glass. Storm water drains should be cleared of leaves and rubbish.

2. Park your car where it is least likely to be damaged.

3. Do not stand near windows on the exposed side of your home. Move all furniture and valuables away from these areas. Make sure you have a safe place to shelter, should windows be broken.

Perhaps I wouldn’t open the windows after all.

We were out of milk and bread for the children’s supper so I nipped up to our local shop only to discover that everybody else had had the same idea. I returned with a full trolley of stuff we didn’t need but siege mentality had hit Shouson Hill and struggles for the last carton of milk were in danger of breaking out in the aisles of 'Parknshop'.

Malcolm phoned at 5.45pm saying he’d been queuing for a taxi for the last 20 minutes and nothing was moving. “I’ll come and get you Darling!” I warbled and grabbed my keys. At 6pm sitting in solid traffic before the entrance to the Aberdeen Tunnel, the Flying Sofa buffeted from side to side and the windscreen wipers going full pelt, the HK Observatory hoisted level 8 and I wondered if offering to collect Malcolm had been such a good idea. It took me an hour to reach him and the woman in the queue ahead of him was still waiting for her taxi as we drove off. When we got home, Malcolm surreptitiously stacked the garden chairs and tucked them into a corner.

Hagupit bore down upon Hong Kong like some furious giant late that evening. Fortunately, because our windows held firm and our garden furniture did not take the opportunity to fly away, we got a good night’s sleep. The next day, although the worst was over, there was a lot of rain and again no school for any of the children. Malcolm called from the taxi on the way to work (no day off for him) to say, “It’s carnage out here!”

Bands of blue-overalled workers armed with chainsaws were busy clearing the thickest branches and tree trunks from the roads while others in pointed straw hats swept the leaves and debris into piles along the gutters. Later in the day we noticed that our neighbours’ tree had fallen over. What a shame they hadn’t thought to tie that down as well.