Drone versus drought dilemma
by PAT SHEIL
NSW is still under Level 2 water restrictions, but due to current dam levels surging in the recent rains, Sydney Water and the NSW Govt will ease the restrictions back to Level 1 from March 1.
One Sydney resident recalls a post-Xmas dilemma he faced concerning water wastage during the drought..
One Sunday December 29, 2019, I found myself in an impossible, but very 21st century, legal conundrum.
I was under robotic aerial attack. And yet my only form of defense had been deemed illegal by the government of NSW only two weeks earlier.
OK, to the specifics. I live in a 12th floor apartment in Sydneys inner west. I was enjoying sitting on my balcony, listening to New Zealand opener Tom Blundells heroic attempt to smash an unlikely century and force the Second Test into a fifth day.
(He made the first target, but mercifully fell before the caterers at the MCG had to decide whether to order 500 pies and 1,000 beers for the tiny crowd that would watch 27 minutes of cricket the next morning, before the Kiwis inevitably imploded.)
But just as Blundell was waiting, on 99, for the loose ball that would seal his place at the top of New Zealands batting order for many seasons to come, there was a flash of black carbon composite and a whirling of propellers catching my eye, and the buzzing one might expect from a mosquito on amphetamines.
Drone intrusion
A drone was hovering, five meters or so way, just beyond the dying lemon tree on the corner of my balcony.
What looked like a camera lens was pointing at me. The evil robot moved up. It moved down. But in essence, it stayed right where it was.
Checking me out.
I was furious. This was the second time this had happened to me since a neighbor had been given a drone for Christmas 2018, when my partner and I (rather scantily clad, shall we say), were enjoying a second glass of champagne early on New Years Eve, discreet and invisible, or so we thought.
That drone came to within two metres of us, and stared for a lingering moment or three before flying off into the middle distance.
I reported it to the police, and to their credit, they found out where it had come from, and made the problem go away with stern warnings, etc etc.
So, it seemed that our privacy was again intact, until that last Sunday afternoon of 2019, by which time yet another Christmas clown in the building had found himself in possession of one of these impertinent contraptions.
I was, to put it in polite terms, pissed off beyond measure to have this to me happen again, especially when a Test batsman is on 99 and I and am on the edge of my seat. Test cricket is important to me. Pure, intense drama.
A mobile phone ringing during Hamlets soliloquy at the STC is nothing compared to what this machine was doing to my day.
So, I fought back.
Hose solution
I grabbed my garden hose, set the adjustable spray setting to the needle-like jet, and shot at the intruder point blank.
But alas, he was just out of range. Whoever was operating this Boxing Day Sale Harvey Norman Messerschmitt fighter aircraft was ready for battle, Ill give him that.
He backed off, and moved in again. I turned the tap to full blast, lined him up, and winged the bastard.
He/it banked, turned, and fled out of sight behind the building, dripping regret and losing altitude.
I felt the thrill of victory, and to top it off, actually got to hear Blundell get his ton.
And then my partner came home. As I regaled her with my triumphant tale of anti-aircraft firepower supremacy, she observed, to my horror
He could have video of you using a hose during level Two Water Restrictions, you know. He could report you.
Well, let him bloody try, I say! This was not an air raid that was ever going to be thwarted by a bucket or a watering can.
It needed high pressure, pin-point accuracy, and a dead eye.
And anyway, my hose had a trigger. No water was wasted.
And believe you me, pulling that trigger felt bloody marvelous.
Ill defend my water use, just as I defended my privacy, all the way to the High Court if need be.
And once again, I will win.
