23.5.13 - A black night - the umbrella says it all

We spotted this parasol when the Adcocks were here. It caused great hilarity, and makes me chuckle every time I look at it...however, as you can see, it was inappropriately sunny when this photo was taken.

So I decided to wait until we got our first serious rain storm to use it. I tempted fate.

Hong Kong has official classifications for very heavy rain falls. Old hands, who told tales of the worst sky-dumps with relish, tell me that this system was one of several measures enacted in the 80s to try to react better to storms, in the wake of some landslips, drownings and road pile-ups. Amber rain is heavier than anything I’ve seen in the UK; red soaks you to the skin in seconds; and black is indescribably heavy. Businesses and public transport shut up shop, and everyone buckles down to ride it out.

Our first bout of black rain ripped into HK around 4am, battering us into consciousness. Thunder so loud you could feel it rumbling in the walls or resonating in your chest. Blinding, constant lightning flashes - somewhere over 7000 lightning strikes in 3 hours. And rain so heavy that, on the flat roof of our spare bedroom, it made a noise somewhere between a stadium-sized crowd cheering and TV static running through heavy-duty amps.

We lay in awe and awake in the dark, unable to sleep, not knowing disaster was looming.

I got up around 6am to go to the loo. On peeking through our curtains, I was horrified to see that our 1000sq foot terrace, which is around 15cm below the level of our front room, was full to the brim like an enormous paddling pool. And filling fast.

Cue frantic action. We had no sandbags – even though the flat was known, we heard later, to flood in black rains – and no time to try to stem the tide. We had about 90 seconds to scoop up our new curtains, stack all wooden furniture onto the sofa and unplug the electrics.

And then there was nothing more to do than stand helplessly back and watch as water oozed under the patio doors and snaked across the flat.

Below is me moments later assessing the situation outside. I would love to say I donned this T-shirt in a triumphal moment of British sang froid, but I’m afraid I just snatched it out of the nearest drawer…