When I heard about cyclone Larry headed for the Queensland coast, my first thought was that it was a pretty wimpish name for a cyclone. It just didn’t seem to pack any punch. Now, if it had been called David or Thomas, I would have been prepared for a storm of great magnitude and power.

My sister Susan lives in Innisfail, which right at this moment is in the eye of the beast. I had an email from Susan early this morning, while her mad Australian husband Joe was busy boarding up windows, and doing strange storm related things to livestock. I’m not sure what you do to cows when a big wind is coming your way, but whatever it was he was out there doing it, and you have to admire that. According to Susan:

The plan is to camp in the wardrobe with a mattress to protect us…We have a food and water supply so time will tell now. I won’t be working for a few days as we will be flooded in. Joe’s sister has been evacuated from her home as she lives close to the beach.

They must build those wardrobes sturdy in Australia, but she seems upbeat about it all. The indomitable spirit of the Irish maybe - standing tall in the face of famine, adversity, and Englishmen.

My brother Colin lives a couple of hours north of Innisfail, where the phone lines still work. Normally a call from Colin means he’s had three drinks too many, but he sounded strangely sober this evening - drunk on adrenaline and the prospect of a violent end maybe. Things are chaotic out there and the full force of the storm has yet to hit. Innisfail is cut off - the phones are all out, and no one knows the state of affairs, not to mention the state of the livestock.

Only time will tell now, and fingers crossed that the wardrobe lives up to its early promise. With 180 mph winds, that’s a whole lot of promise.