Global Warming Letdown

We who live in Taranaki had such high hopes for global warming.

While Taranaki is a great place to live, what with the mountain and sea and everything, it has always been just a smidge on the chilly side. Not cold enough for puffer pants and not warm enough for jandals as evening wear. 

For generations we have accepted this rather middling state of affairs, and then one day all of a sudden, wham bam like a Batman one two, we had a summer hotter than Jamie Dornan in a light sweat. Everyday the sun shone like a big orange sun thing. We threw ourselves into the sea and the golf ball rolled on and on. Never before seen Orcas frolicked on Fitzroy beach and the deafening din of cicadas was music to our sunburnt ears. 

With a collective regional hurrah we secretly rejoiced in global warming. If this was the future then sign us up. Ok there would plagues of flies and famine throughout the rest of the world which would be a shame, but hey, Taranaki would be basking in sunshine for the first time since God said “I think I’ll create a place where there are no bloody snakes” (he was pretty upset about that whole Eve and the apple debacle). 

Overjoyed with the prospect of a warmer globe, we duly rushed out and bought butt hugging short shorts. We even started telling people in other provinces to move here. We giggled as the Hawkes Bay squabbled about where to build their life saving water filled dam. Yep ‘the Bay’ would see it’s population decimated as they ran from their parched farms and headed west like Steinbeck’s Okies. 

And then it happened. Slowly at first. One day at a time. As 2016’s Christmas approached in the pleasant glow of red and green fairy lights, we slipped into our thongs ready for the first sunny day. It didn’t come, but we didn’t despair. Maybe tomorrow? Nope, tomorrow was wet, any day now. Global warming will bring us sunshine. 

A year later and we are in complete despair. It has rained and rained and rained. People are naming their newborns Noah and cows are up to their armpits in mud – the rivers swollen like a boxer’s eyebrow. We have been pummelled by rain. Bloodied and bruised by the relentless downpours that have driven us inside for endless bouts of pasty faced children trying to kill each other. We have been duped. Global warming promised us so much but we have been tricked. If this is what global warming delivers then we want our money back.

So here we are as depressed as a puppy in a pound. Turns out global warming is actually a bad thing (who knew?), and we get to sleep in waterproof pyjamas. The refugees from the Hawkes Bay have never arrived and the stay-dry nature of internet shopping looks pretty friggin appealing. 

However, because we are a province of optimistic hardy souls we haven’t entirely given up on global warming. We are milking the land as hard as we can, hopeful that any day now that big bright thing in the sky will cast long delicious shadows.

If we are right, the big wet of 2017 will be forgotten like a drunken shag. If we are wrong, then we will have to shoot all the cows and move to the east coast. We will let the land drown in it’s own sorrow. Our fault I know, but the world needed milk and oil so we dutifully did our bit. Our reward was supposed to be warmer weather but it looks like we’ve bitten off more than we can chew. 

Clearly we have no choice but to stop chewing altogether and convert our farms from hay bales to kale bales and ditch the v8 for an electric car and a very long extension chord.

So we wait. Huddled in our houses like churchmice, we peer hopefully through our fogged up windows for signs of succulent sunshine. 

Richard Alexander Bain
Self confessed climate change accepter