survival skills

fear not, last week's earthquake wasn't even enough to make me spill my wine.
it did, however, have "lampshades swinging up to 6 inches" (who has time to measure these things?), so they say. i've no idea, most of our lights are recessed.

but the earthquake people say (the ones who measure them, not make them) it was the second biggest recorded earthquake here; although in a district with an average population of 1 person and 1 sheep (and several million sandflies) per square kilometre it wasn't nearly as devastating as it might have been. they say (the earthquake crew) there are over 17000 earthquakes registered every year in these shaky isles; this is only the second one i've felt since we returned.

it was, however, the first for pascal.

where he's from the land has well and truely settled, it is as old as history remembers. nothing changes except the seasons. there are very large mountains as reminders that it wasn't always thus, but now, it's settled into its somewhat sedentry retirement village.

so, understandably, he erred on the side of 'drama queen' when the earth started her gentle gyrations. it wasn't one of those shocking, violent 'quakes you see in films, more of a seavessel upanddown motion that made me wonder if there was something wrong with me. i heard a strange noise, and saw things moving that shouldn't be- i assumed it was a ghost. until p announced "i'm moving!" at which point i could dispense with theatrics and diagnose an earthquake and get over it. p, drilled in 'earthquake preparedness', instructed us to assemble under a doorway.
and before you could say, oh i wonder where i left my glass of wine, it had finished. as gently as it had begun. but not without leaving subtle traces of doubt.

the remainder of the evening was spent discussing our Earthquake Plan. we asked- how prepared are we? we pondered -could we survive?

the answers were of course and not terribly. but not in that order (the conversation was fuelled by the remainder of the nonspiltwine)
we live by the sea, we have fishing rods, and even though it's winter and our garden seems bare we know how to find wild foods- seaweed, normal 'weeds' and how to prepare them. we have a forest at the end of our street (it's kinda more like a forestette) where we could collect pinecones for fuel because, apparently, burning driftwood releases dioxins into the atmosphere and isn't advised (unless of course you've just left a shipwreck). we know how to collect, clean and store water, we know how to make a solar still, a solar oven, a solar shower...

we made a list of things we'd need to add to our 'list of things': candles, matches, batteries & radio, UHT milk, boiled bottled water (the earthquake folk suggest 3l/person/day)

but heck, how much chocolate do you pack?
if you're planning for a disaster do you include wine?
or coffee?
cos we are talking essentials.
some cheese, a little olive oil, saltpepper. a good book.
and how do i know what i'll want to wear?

these things weren't registered alongside the series of aftershocks that rocked the little mountains in the deep south. the earth, apparently, will continue to reverberate for some time.

[sigh]

mother nature likes to keep us on our toes, eh?

xx
mama b
(mostly prepared)