Expect the best (and the worst) from the weatherAugust 11, 2016
During the cool month of August, there's a 40% chance of rainfall in Sydney. I'm baffled about it, but Mum would tell me to expect the best (and the worst) from the weather.
My sister was excited about "My Fair Lady" at the Opera House. Julie Andrews would helm it, but I had little interest in it. She thought there was something wrong about me, as the production would mark its 60th anniversary. Perhaps she was right. (I passed up Vivid Sydney.) For some reasons, I became a homebody lately. Mum was rather surprised it, but I would suspect the coursework. After what have been an unpredictable first year, I was yearning for a routine during my second year (at the university). Not that I couldn't handle procrastination, but I would miss sleep on many occasions. And no one would want to get drenched (from the rainfall).
Max, Lucas, and Henry were betting on their favourite sport at the Olympics. And I suppressed my laughter after the final opening round match was done. It turned out that the Olympic spirit could make an exciting tennis tournament. There won't be any pressure from sponsors (to tell top players to reach the second week of a Grand Slam tournament). It was about playing for your country, which seemed to be the last thing that a professional athlete would do. Novak Djokovic was a victim of the (bad) luck of the draw, but fans may not witness another player winning all four major trophies. On the other hand, Juan Martin del Potro was stuck in an elevator for 40 minutes. There was a power failure, which happened at the wrong time. It might be an omen, though.
Djokovic must wait for four more years, but it will be held in Tokyo. I could see Nick Kyrgios ready to add the Olympic gold medal in his resume. My housemates weren't appreciative of his second singles titles in Atlanta. He had to start winning somewhere. Moreover, John McEnroe would give the Canberran ace a public scolding whenever he lost in the big events. The seven-time Grand Slam winner won't do the same thing to Bernard Tomic.
Mum knew I was staying up late, but I couldn't help it. I was a member of the swimming club, and I was delighted about Mack winning the finals of the 400-meter freestyle race. And Australia's gold-medal win in the women's 400-meter freestyle relay was expected. (The Campbell sisters came from another planet.) We were excited about the finals of the women's 100-meter breaststroke, though. There won't be any local bet in the finals, but it would be a Cold War. Lilly King and Yuliya Yefimova were the fastest swimmers in the preliminaries. And the American didn't hide her displeasure from seeing the Russian competing in Rio. Don't tell us that we were leading uneventful lives.
Lucas became anxious about the weather. He made us recalled the wild weather last June, where rainfall records were broken across the metropolis. The weather forecast would be 10% of precipitation, but the wind could be another thing.
I have a deadline to beat, and it had something to do with Charles Dickens. Dad was familiar with his works, so I didn't hesitate to ask him a number of questions. Not that I haven't read any of his books, but I hardly remembered the details. My attention shifted to sport many years ago.
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