The Pilbara Time Warp

Like in Thailand, it is often hard to notice the passing of time here - even remembering what month you’re in is sometimes a struggle (and no, that has nothing to do with growing older or a penchant for G&Ts). The seasons in Thailand were ‘hot and humid’, ‘hot and slightly less humid’, and ‘hot, humid and wet’. Here in the Pilbara they are ‘hot’ and ‘so hot you feel like you’re walking into a sauna when you step outside’. In England, the year is marked by its seasons. You get the cold, wet, gloomy first months of the year as winter properly kicks in, followed by slightly warmer days, the trees bursting to life with blossom and new leaves as spring arrives. Summer brings sunny days (well, at least for a week or two) and beautiful gardens full of roses, lavender and honeysuckle, before autumn heralds the necessity for a jumper and coat again and the leaves on the trees become a riot of sunsets and flames. In the last dying months of the year, the weather turns cold and frosty and starts to feel very festive as Christmas approaches. By mid-November, I have normally started the countdown to Christmas, one that starts on November 5th, Guy Fawkes Night.


November 5th is when I officially allow myself to wear a woolly hat and gloves. Often I feel cold enough to don the woollies in October but I know that to do so too early would mean a very, very cold winter for me. Also, English people think you’re weird if you walk around dressed for a holiday on the ski slopes when summer has only just ended. So, I stuff my hands in my pockets to keep warm until Guy Fawkes Night, upon which I pile on jumpers, a big coat, scarf, hat and gloves to stand in the freezing cold and watch the fireworks. Then of course I get uncomfortably hot when surrounded by hundreds of people and standing right by a huge bonfire. But I’m getting off-subject now. The point I was trying to make was that unless I actually think about it, I have no idea what time of year we’re in. Guy Fawkes this year was 42°C. It doesn’t feel like Christmas is fast approaching at all. There are none of my usual markers – piling more clothes on when I go out, turning up the heating, the smell of wood smoke drifting from chimneys, dark days and nights, the first time you can see your breath in the air.

There’s now only two weeks until the start of December, when I will undoubtedly go into festive overdrive - decorating the house to within an inch of its life, blasting Christmas music 24/7, making mince pies, sipping mulled wine (with the air-con jacked up to ensure that I don’t collapse from heat exhaustion), writing cards and wrapping presents. My big fear is that if I don’t make it blatantly obvious that we are in the festive season, I might forget about it all together. I actually had a nightmare recently that I did just that and I woke with palpitations and a cold sweat, terror coursing through my veins. Whatever it takes, I am determined to make December as festive as possible, despite the raging temperatures outside.