Crazy girl getaway to wanton West Mids

It's been ages again, hasn't it? Soz. So what thrilling things have been happening?

On Monday Hubby went on the raz with Anna Kournikova (see previous).

On Tuesday I went to a meeting of a new creative writing group (lots of scary high-powered people there, like barristers, political journalists, documentary makers, etc. However, I was the only one who had nearly finished writing a book, oh, and the only one with twins, too. So I managed not to feel too overwhelmed).

On Wednesday I went out for a meal in Thamel with a group of wives (there was a moment of drama on the way home when our taxi got a flat tyre in the middle of old Kathmandu and we were stranded in the deserted streets with only a rat, a beggar and a pack of stray dogs for company - oddly, I didn't feel worried in the slightest, not sure why).

On Thursday I didn't go out because it was Hubby's last night and he was packing.

Yes, I'm a single parent yet again. Woo Hoo, it's almost like the good old days on Chetwynd Barracks at the moment. (This weekend I also rather rashly agreed to have a friend's two children for the whole weekend as she was going to a wedding in Pokhara, making me effectively a single parent of five for forty eight hours. Luckily they are extremely lovely children and not at all brattish, so it was fine, although I am heartily sick of washing up now and we have totally run out of food.)

On Friday I felt a bit pants because Hubby got up at sparrow's fart to catch his flight and also was awake half the night with leg cramps (him, not me). Thought he might have DVT, or the early stages of gout or something hideous, but he assured me he was quite well enough to make it to his extremely important meeting/forum/symposium/conference thingy in Birmingham (perhaps he is taking Anna Kournikova with him?

Her: (stoking his thigh) Oh, Darlink, take me avay from thees 'orrible place!

Him: Well, I'm off to Sutton Coldfield on Friday to meet lots of other men just like me to talk about work, if you're interested.

Her: (stroking his chest) Oh, darlink, zat would be sooo romantic!

Him: And Enrico won't mind?

Her: (breathily into his ear) Enrico is nuzzink to me since I met you, you darlink leetle man! Him: Good-oh. And my early onset gout and male pattern baldness doesn't bother you?

Her: (letting her hair fall in a golden cascade over his face) I sink you are the sexiest man in ze whole of the small region of Patan known as Man Bhawan.

Him: (brushing her hair off him in an irritated way) Oh, okay, then. And what do you think about water treatment?

Her: (pouting)Vat?

Him: Water treatment, you know, finding sources of potable water and subjecting aforementioned to a variety of chemical and technical processes until they fit in with WHO standards for human consumption, notwithstanding the inevitable issues of crypto-spiridium, ammonia, oh, and ammonium for that matter, and the optimum size of borehole required to access an aquifer?

Her: (eyes closed) zzzzzzzzz).

Hmm, not really right to imagine my husband getting intimate with Anna 'crazy girl' Kournikova, is it? Even if he does talk about water treatment until she nods off in boredom...

Ooh, ooh, I've just remembered, it's Anna Kournikova. Yes, I am trivia Queen! Good to know that the book of general knowledge crosswords I have just ordered from Amazon won't be a complete waste of money. I'm sure there will be a question about Anna Kournikova in there somewhere.

crazy girls

Well, I was going to either spend some time editing the book tonight or snuggling up with Hubby on the sofa to watch a DVD and I have ended up doing neither, so decided to write to you instead.

Hubby is out at the Red Rooster. He said that he was going for a quick one after work and would be home in time for the kids' bedtime. No, I didn't believe him either. The Red Rooster is a small bar off a side street, right next to the 'Crazy Girls' dance bar. And guess what, the picture on the sign outside the Crazy Girls bar shows the face of that Russian bird who used to play tennis before shacking up with Enrico Iglesias (apologies for poor spelling). Oh, you know the one I mean. I can't remember her name but she has long blonde hair and what my mother would describe as 'come hither' eyes. Anyway, it seems she is now working just down the road from the Gurkha camp in Kathmandu. Who would have thought? Wonder if Nepal is going to become a repositary for ex-sporting totty? Perhaps we'll see Sharon Davies serving dahl at the Summit Hotel, or Fatima Whitbread driving the school bus. Who knows?

Yes, so anyway, that's where Hubby is, consorting with clapped-out tennis totty and a half empty glass of whisky, no doubt. Which means the cuddling and DVD is on hold.

And the book? Well, I have spent a frustratingly long time trying to create Christmas cards via an online photo thingy, but the internet connection is just pants tonight, so the whole project was doomed to frustration and eventual failure. So, if you don't get a Christmas card from me then soz. Oh, and incidentally, if you do want a Christmas card from me, then you will probably need to let me know your address. My address book is shockingly out of date (as is my hairstyle and taste in underwear - but I digress).

The reason I didn't get any book editing done this morning is that I had to go on a school trip with the Twins. I hadn't actually volunteered for it, but had let the class teacher know that I could be available if she was desperate. She was, unfortunately (apparently one of the teaching assistants was at a funeral and the other one couldn't go because she had her period and was therefore 'unclean' and not allowed to go to temple - yeah, right, love, we have all used that one to get out of PE; I think she just knew what was in store and got her mum to write a note).

We took them all to a temple in Patan. I had both the Twins in my group, and two other little girls. Their class teacher gave us an activity sheet and told us to get on with it. Have you ever tried getting disinterested four-year-olds to count how many different types of butter lamps they can see? Or to let the scary-looking smelly old man put tikka on their foreheads? Sadly I think my group were distinctly underwhelmed by the whole cultural/religious thing, and just complained about feeling hungry.

Maybe I'm just not cut out to be a teacher, as I did notice another mum's group high-fiving and being congratulated on being 'great temple detectives!'

I was just relieved when it was all over. If I get asked to go next week I might have to get out of it somehow, I don't know, maybe by chucking myself under a Tata truck or getting swine flu. Both of which would be preferable options to another morning on a foundation class trip.

ps. What was that tennis player's name? Ivana? It will bug me all night now...

Sorry, it's been a while. Must be the wild excitement of having Hubby back home that has distracted me. Yes, he did finally make it back, but with not one single eensy weensy present in his big, fat sailing bag. So I don't feel even remotely guilty about the three mornings at the spa or the cashmere, especially not as he let slip that he gets paid more when he's sailing as it counts as a duty. Indeed.

What else? Doctor told me today that she has managed to get hold of a swine flu vaccine for Twin 2, but not for anyone else. So, come the lethal pandemic, she'll be fine, it'll just be the rest of us writhing around near death. You would think that it would be a good thing to have at least one member of the family vaccinated, to look after the others. Sadly, Twin 2's ideas of nursing are lacking, to say the least (Twin 1 however is getting a doctor's kit from father christmas, so she and her plastic stethoscope might be of some use).

I'm going out tonight, to a gig. Yes, how rock chick is that? Actually, not very. It's some of the Dads from school who have formed a mid-life-crisis band and are doing a fundraiser for Help for Heroes. Still, I am wearing ripped jeans (I had to lie on the bed and hold my breath to get the zip done up on them this morning) and will shortly be popping upstairs for black eyeliner and large earrings. Do you think my leopard effect jacket would be de trop?

Hubby is coming too, along with most of the expat community, including, I think, both the commander and the ambassador. Hubby is bringing his boss, who's out from the UK, and his entourage.

Should be a laff, I reackon, although Son is already trying to make me feel guilty by muttering darkly about how I don't have to go out. He says, Mummy it's not like it's your job to go to a party. He will not make me feel bad about it though, as his social life is way busier than mine, and anyway, it's for a good cause, right?

Thursday

Blooming internet is off yet again, but I’ll write this anyway and post it when I can get back online, as all kids are busy watching Star Wars and I am feeling too viral to do anything more productive (although I do have a productive cough, if that counts for anything?).

Just had Tihar holiday (long weekend). Handily enough, the swimming pool was closed, so we went to the zoo instead (zoos in developing countries – always a treat). Actually, the tigers have quite a nice enclosure, but the poor hippos barely have space to yawn. It’s all a bit sad, and, well, tedious really, but the kids seem to love it. I managed to keep them away from the truly hazardous playground, but we couldn’t pass by the gift shop without buying some absolutely essential plastic crowns and bubble mixture.

The following day we went on a picnic on the valley rim with a group of mainly missionaries. In fact I think kids and I were the only heathens. We didn’t have to say grace before the picnic or anything, and it was pretty relaxed, although some people freaked out when the driver came back from doing his puja (getting a blessing and a tikka at the temple) with a few bottles of fizzy pop. Not sure if this was a Christian thing, or just a middle-class parent thing. Honestly, you would have thought I’d produced cocaine, not coca cola (maybe there’s something about not getting into heaven if you have tooth decay?). Still, they got over it and we all had a jolly pleasant time.

I have been happily thinking that the Tihar break was the last weekend without Hubby, as I was sure he told me that his sailing trip finishes on Friday. It does. But it turns out he doesn’t make it back to Kathmandu until Sunday evening. He has to fly from Portugal to the UK and then there’s the whole time difference thing as well. Bummer! He is here for a week, and then back to the UK for a terribly important conference thing the following week, so it looks like I’ve got to be a single parent a bit longer. In response to this news, I have planned another morning at the spa and a new pashmina, as essential stress reduction strategies.

I suppose I should really go now and do something useful… or maybe I will just take a brufen and make some hot lemon and honey and let the kids watch Star Wars until bedtime…

Ps. I am just writing up my last scene (I did the ‘trapped under rubble’ one at the weekend, so it’s just the ‘big row’ one to finish off). Very exciting. I’ll do this scene tomorrow morning (I have to do it on Thursday, because on Friday I have essential single parent stress reduction morning of massage and cashmere shopping followed by lunch at nice hotel), and then all I will have to do is edit it (which will realistically take until Christmas, but I’m on schedule for my end of year deadline). Hurrah!

I decided last night that if it does ever make it to publication (slim chance, but fingers crossed), then I’m going to give a portion of my royalties to Help for Heroes, so remind me of that when I’m a famous author, because obviously there will be the temptation to blow the lot on liposuction and botox!

Tihar-tastic

This weekend is Tihar (like Diwali). In fact today is Dog Tihar (the day the dogs receive blessings). This morning Gary appeared with a garland of marigolds round his neck and a red tikka on his forehead. He looked so fetching that I just had to give him a Dog Tihar present of a bowl of chicken noodle soup with some chicken liver pate in it. I think he felt suitably blessed. There are some other Tihar days coming up: Cow Tihar and Crow Tihar (although not sure how they catch the crows to put marigolds and tikkas on them) and a few others.

This evening is a bit like a cross between bonfire night and new years eve: there are butter lamps, tea-lights and fairy lights everywhere, and mandalas outside houses and shops (to welcome in Lakshmi, the goddess of wealth), and fire crackers going off. I took the kids into town for pizza and by the time we'd finished it was dark - gets dark around six at the moment - so we crossed the road into the Garden of Dreams, which is a beautiful oasis of a garden, which was festooned with butter lamps, tea lights and mandalas. It was gorgeous, but the kids were full of pizza and coke and it was pretty much bedtime, so they were all a bit manic, and ran around pretending to be escaping royalty or something (I'm not sure, I know that I was supposed to be the grandmother and that I was supposed to run, hide and then gather food...). I felt a little sorry for the other people in the Garden of Dreams, many of whom it seemed had come to have a little romantic interlude near the water feature or chill out after sampling a bit of Himalayan herb. I don't think they had rampaging kids on a sugar rush in mind as ideal companions.

We bumped into some of the kids' little school friends, which would have been great in daylight hours, but I couldn't really relax and chat to the parents when Twin 2 kept wobbling about over stone steps covered in candles, and with kids waving sparklers around. Bless her. Her balance is not to be trusted at the best of times, but after dark in a park full of steps and flames, it just wasn't worth the risk of letting go of her hand and heading off for a swift G&T. I suppose if she had wobbled into a ring of butter lamps and become a human inferno, I could have just tossed her in one of the many fish ponds or water features, but it didn't seem a good idea at the time.

I'm a bit worried that the parents now think I'm rude because I didn't chat very much. I will have to apolgise for being so distracted the next time I see them. Anyway, I do think I need to work on my manners because I just got a message from facebook about where I rank among my friends and apparently I score pretty poorly for 'niceness' or being 'well mannered'. Although wierdly, I top the list for 'athletic', which anyone who did PE with me at school will know is just a load of old cobblers as I am possibly the least athletic person around. Which just shows what a heap of rubbish those ranking things are, I suppose.

The kids are on holiday again (for Tihar) and the swimming pool on camp is closed, again. I was so annoyed this morning when we schlepped all the way in, only to see a note on the door saying that the pool would open again on Tuesday. I know that Tihar is an important festival etc. but the pool closes at the end of October anyway, and the Lifeguard will then get four months leave until the pool opens again in March. Does he really need to take this weekend off? Does he?

Oooh, I was hopping mad.

I have to stop getting angry though, because I'm getting angry-old-woman lines on my face (mouth like a cat's bum from being pursed in a crosspatch way), and I certainly can't afford Botox or fillers to sort them out, not unless I kick the ebay and cashmere habit, anyway.

Right, should probably go. Kids were up at five thirty this morning, so I shouldn't risk a late night.

Might just fit in a swift G&T before I head up, though...

Nightie night x

hmmm...

Think of all the money we have saved by not employing a driver for the last month or two (especially as we have handily avoided the whole Deshain 13th month bonus thing)? Would it be wrong to divert those funds into a gorgeous cashmere long cardigan-jacket thing in a beautiful blue-green? Especially with the exchange rate so favourable right now...