Originally published by The Clifton Courier, January 22, 2020

Every household should have a rain gauge.

Now, I know this sounds commanding and almost dictatorial of me, but I don’t intend to enforce my views beyond a bit casual rain gauge advocacy. I mean this in a suggestive, light-hearted way, in the same way you might say that everyone should watch Cougar Town or serve leftover lamb shank dregs on a bed of chicken nuggets (something I can highly recommend).

Growing up, our household always had a rain gauge. At the moment, it’s hooked up to a gum tree that was knocked around by storms so much that it’s been cut down to a gum stump.

We didn’t need a rain gauge. We were not economically invested in how much moisture was in the ground. We didn’t have to think about whether the contour banks (yep, I had to Google what they’re actually called, because “them long dirt mounds that run along paddocks that, like, stop the soil from running off when it rains” didn’t really flow with the paragraph) would hold after a heavy shower. And aside from that one time a pumpkin patch spontaneously popped up thanks to a fortuitous combination of house manure and uneaten kitchen scraps, the spare paddock that makes up most of the Maguire station hasn’t really been utilised for agricultural purposes.

But it’s still nice to have an idea about how much rain fell out our way.

Because there are few things that will break an uncomfortable silence and bring two people together better than the question “so how much did you get out your way?”. It’s one of those questions you can ask anyone, but you’re actually interested in the answer. Like, you may ask “how ya goin’?” to be polite and might not give two hoots about the answer, but you’ll always pay attention to how many mils were in their gauge.

Weather, of course, is the great unifier in that we’re all affected by it. But the amount of rain people received out their way is somehow more potent than general weather chat. It’s non-divisive and inquisitive but is very hard to steer into inappropriate, uncomfortable territory. It taps into the sticky beak inside of all us and creates pleasant, good-natured conversation. It leads to discussions about how patchy rain can be, how different the rainfall was from last year and whether you think there’s more on the way. From here, the conversation can go just about anywhere.

I mean, I’m no dating expert but I reckon breaking out a “so how much rain did you get out your way?” might just be the perfect way to strike up a conversation with a potential love interest.

The only problem is that people in The Big Smoke don’t tend to have rain gauges. Of course, I’m generalising here, but I don’t know many people in the city with gauges. I understand not everyone has a backyard in which to stick a rain gauge and they might not be able to fix one to their apartment walls, so you can’t really blame them. But the lack of a water measuring devices in this part of the world is profound. It’s something me and a few of my Clifton-raised, Brisbane-dwelling counterparts lamented the other day, after we got 12mm out our way.

I know this because we have a rain gauge on our back fence.

I’m currently living with two friends from my uni days, one is from Out Near Pittsworth and the other, her fiancé, is from Up North Somewhere. He asked her parents for a rain gauge for Christmas and it truly has been a gift that keeps on giving. He has a group chat with my friend’s father and her younger sister’s partner, with the conversation thread being a chain of rain-related banter. As such, our household is well-informed on the rainfall Out Near Pittsworth, adding a deeper richness to the rain-related conversations we’re part of.

It’s these conversations the gauge-less city slickers are missing out on, which is quite sad. Because, without a gauge, they’re effectively shut out of quality chats. They won’t have the information to be able to hit back with something along the lines of “yeah, it made a bit of noise but didn’t do much for us” to return the serve of a rain gauge pickup line at the bar.

But while the fact that not many city dwellers have rain gauges might appear to be a flaw in my pickup line theory, it’s important to point out that this strategy is not just a conversation starter, but also a screening method to make sure you don’t end up with a dud. Because, let’s be honest, do you really want to be with someone who doesn’t care about how much rain you got out your way?