Sound of the Rumble

 So there I was standing cold, terrified and cramped in the cold bathroom, with the person responsible for punishing me currently sleeping across the hall where he was sitting in his chair. Not just sleeping, but snoring as well. Snoring loudly. When he snored, my father could create a significant rumble. Now growing up in New Zealand, earthquakes were not uncommon. Let’s face it. We lived on an island, formed magnificently by tectonic plate movement. The irregular vibrations experienced from the pressured plates of the earth, which had collided. Apparently the ‘arrogant’ Australian plate section climbing over the New Zealand, which could be interpreted as, once again New Zealand carrying the future of Australia on its back (hehehe).   And the plate in its constant movement, has ridden up to form the majestic Southern Alps which rises up in the west of the island forming, not just an incredible tourists pictorial pleasure source of scenery and land variations, but, as was more recently and sadly seen in Christchurch, devastating and emotionally unsettling events, which once again the great New Zealand spirit of the people rose strongly to the challenge. 

We grew up somewhat used to the more minor quakes. Small, occasional motion ripples, that would be unexpectedly experienced at odd hours. These minor tremors, sometimes daily, would rattle the milk bottles on the bench (yes we had glass bottles then). today, I doubt you would hear milk cartons or the plastic bottles were an earthquake was to occur). Sometimes the quakes experienced were of the larger type, where floors rumbled as if large trucks were passing the house. Or every now and then a more serious floor and house shaking type would be experienced. We were quite used to them. For the daily irregular minor quakes we were never that bothered. Only for the larger shakes did we head under the table or to the door way and stand and wait for it to pass. Waiting until the shaking ceased and the rumble faded. Then, the excited nervous chatter between the children of the event. That was for the more serious ones. Occasionally we could be woken from sleep by such rumbles as a minor earthquake shook the foundations of our house.

One several occasions I recalled being woken from sleep by a rumble that was more consistent. That seriously shook the house (or appeared to). I would stir and focus on the sound, believing it was another earthquake, but as I woke properly, I realised it was from my fathers room, at the far end of the house away our room, as he snored heavily. Fortunately I had never awoken in panic on hearing this and roused my brothers from sleep to stand in the doorway as a precaution. Right now, as I stood in the bathroom the rumble continued from the lounge. The sound and style of my father’s snoring raising doubts that he was ‘faking it’ to catch me out.

(Continued tomorrow)