As the rain teems down on this iron-clad roof, I think back to rainy school days growing up in the Waikato. We didn't have umbrellas but we had pure-wool pixie hats and goloshes. The hats got saturated and it took us forever to get the goloshes on and off. I wasn't the only one in the family who had a 'hate relationship' with those horrible rubber over-shoes! The good part of the rainy days was that we were allowed to catch the school bus outside our gate. Usually we had to walk up to the corner which was acceptable for us big ones, but at times we would help out the little ones by carrying them on our backs. All was well until we got to school and one family would be absent. They NEVER came to school on rainy days and they were townies. Strange how we never questioned this as we grew up. Why didn't they come? (they did have a truck) and, what did they do when they were all at home all day? I promise you there were plenty of these very wet days!
Marie: And yet another story!
It seems to be a trait of the elderly to tell stories and often repeat the same stories. As our family has a major Reunion in February 2015 I will tell a family story each day and NOT repeat it for 100 days. I will use christian names from our earlier generations as pseudonyms.