Monday 22 December 2008

Why is it so hard to say no? How I wish my parents had taught me some charming yet decisive way of refusing unwanted invitations. Or alternatively taught me to lie convincingly.
Today Son went round for a play date at some friends' (yes, that apostrophe is in the right place as they are twins so it's a plural) house. The Mum asked what I was doing over xmas and whether I would consider joining them for a bit of a get together with some of the other army people, and their kids, and have a few drinks and some party games. I know that Hubby would rather poke needles in his eyes than spend the day with random army people (just because he's spent the last twenty years or so in the army, doesn't mean he automatically wants to spend every waking moment with soldiers), getting drunk and forcing him to play pictionary or charades. But, having stupidly admitted to not having any firm plans until New Year, what could I say? I was on the brink of saying "Ooh yes, that would be lovely" but had a flashing vision of me telling Hubby about it, him saying "Well, I'm not bloody going," and me having to go on my own with all three kids and make up some limp excuse about Hubby having a migrane or somesuch. So I said, "That's very kind of you, but, erm, we usually just spend Christmas Day and Boxing Day and all the rest of the Christmas holidays in fact, just erm, hanging out with the kids and you know, playing with them, but it's really kind of you to ask." 
I mean, puh-lease, how lame is that for an excuse. But what else was I to say? "It's terribly kind of you but my husband would actually rather saw off his tadger with a blunt butter knife than spend time playing the post-it note game with you and yours." I think not.
Can anyone offer better etiquette/lying technniques, as I am just utterly useless.

Sunday 21 December 2008

PMT in BGN

Sorry it's been a bit. It's because I've been spending my evenings in the gym. Well, I went last night. This evening Hubby and I decided that as it's pretty chilly out, and I'm in an atrocious mood, the time would be better spent sitting in bed, drinking a hot toddy and eating chocolate in front of a DVD (thanks to fab friend back in Blighty for timely delivery of Lidl chocolate goodies). 
I cannot begin to tell you what a terrible mood I'm in. 
I have managed not to shout and shriek at the family, but I have been muttering darkly about the cashmere tank top that the housekeeper has shrunk and the lack of decent food the cook has left us for the weekend. Luckily they are not here today, as they would probably both be sacked by now, which I would immediately regret as they are in fact both lovely people who are perfectly competent. I am just a hormonal witch. 
Good job it's not Christmas Eve today, as Santa Claus would take one look and go a bit wide-eyed and silently scurry off somewhere else, which is exactly what Hubby and the kids have been doing most of the day.
Hope I am not so scary tomorrow, and able to suggest:
1. not shrinking woolens, and
2. actually cooking some food
to my hapless staff, without causing mirrors to shatter and milk to turn sour within a three-mile radius.
Incidentally, in Nepal, women are considered 'unclean' during their periods and aren't allowed to touch other people's food, go to the temple, do the gardening, etc., which all seems a bit wierd and out dated; however, considering how I feel today, I think it may be an example of ancient wisdom that we would do well to re-incorporate into our modern society. It would avoid quite a lot of screeching, "Oh for God's sake I'll just do it myself, you moron", or "No, I haven't got PMT, you are just an insensitive fuckwit," etc.  and possibly cut the divorce rate by some not inconsiderable percentage.
Just a thought.

Monday 15 December 2008

my kids are not a pain in the arse, honest

Played lot of black jack at the casino royale night. Drank a lot of daiquiris too. It was okay. I got to wear Aunty Jill's spangly sequined top, at least. It has been dragged around from the UK to Northern Ireland, Germany and now Nepal and I have never yet had the opportunity to wear it. My mum's friend gave it to her to give to me about ten years ago, and I just haven't been able to bring myself to sling it out. When it was first given to me it was way to big, but now fits like a glove - that's ten year and three kids for you: cheerio Size Eight, and welcome, sit down and have a cuppa Size Twelve. Anyway, thank you Aunty Jill for the seventies style sequinned top, which made me feel almost exactly like Pussy Galore (except with a tad more cellulite and incipient 'bingo wings').
Kids seemed to enjoy their sleepover. The lovely mum who had them said they were fine, and it was fine. She said 'fine' just a few too many times, which makes me suspect she's telling porkie pies. (What she actually thought was something more along the lines of 'I have them in my class all blooming week, wiping their snotty noses, whatever possessed me to invite them round for half the weekend as well?'). What I have come to realise, since being a mum, is that mums lie all the time. They always tell the other mums that their children have been fine, behaved well, etc. I know this, because I do it myself. It's like some unspoken pact not ever ever ever to criticise other people's kids. Even if they have been a right pain in the arse.
Of course my kids are never a right pain in the arse. They are practically perfect in every way. As I'm sure you'll agree if you ever have them to stay!

Thursday 11 December 2008

I love a party with a happy atmosphere!

Well, it was every woman for herself in the musical chairs, so I failed miserably there, but managed a good effort in the eat-as-much-chocolate-with-a-knife-and-fork event. 
Tomorrow is Casino Royale night in the mess. On the invitation it confidently stated that a well-known Kathmandu casino would be running the night. Then, yesterday (or possibly the day before), the someone from the mess committee went into Hubby's work to ask if some of the blokes in the workshop could knock up some roulette and black jack tables. I'm not sure if anyone ever bothered to phone the local casino to ask them to come to the mess, but they're not coming. Someone has perhaps learnt that writing something on an invitation doesn't make it come true (perhaps they have also learnt that wishes don't always come true, and that Santa is just someone's fat uncle; sadly even the world's bravest soldiers have to learn these harsh realities at some point). So, as it is, we'll most likely be playing top trumps on a tables cobbled together from bits of old army furniture - less James Bond and more Brooke Bond by the minute. 
Wierdly, Sunil has suddenly gone all keen, and in a strange role reversal actually phoned me up tonight to tell me that he was coming round for a final fitting. He has promised to have the dress and matching bag ready by tomorrow evening. I just don't have the heart to tell  him that I'm not going to wear it. It is a gorgeous full-length evening dress in leaf-green silk. I am not wasting it on a Casino Royale night, with no casino, which is rapidly degenerating into fancy dress (last night I heard of Miss Moneypenny and Blofeld's cat coming along, and there was also some discussion of wigs and gold bikinis). 
Lovely teacher from school has offered to have kids for sleepover, hurrah, but Hubby is officially on duty so will not be drinking, boo. 
If Hubby is sober and there is no entertainment, might have to stash a big bar of chocolate in my handbag and suggest impromptu game of eat-as-much-chocolate-as-you-can-with-a-knife-and-fork to liven things up a bit.
But not musical chairs.
It's nine pm and Hubby has had his hot chocolate and wowed Sunil with his great Nepali (you know, 'in my opinion my wife is a little fat...' blah blah) and is fast asleep already. No doubt dreaming of green baize table tops and the grammatically correct way of saying 'in my opinion my wife is a little drunk, so just humour her with the whole wierd eating-chocolate-with-cutlery-thing' in Nepali.

Wednesday 10 December 2008

I am now swathed in cashmere. Well, nearly. I will be by this time next week, anyway. When I mentioned my trip to the cashmere shop to Hubby, he decided that I should use the 'three criteria' that we have promised to use whenever we make a purchase, ie. 
1. Do I need it?
2. Can I afford it?
3. Can I get it cheaper anywhere else?
It is quite hard to justify a customised copy of a Fenn Wright Mason wrap thingy in cashmere by this method, so I had to resort to emotional blackmail. After all, I said, you have chosen to miss our wedding anniversary by going on a trek with your army mate, so I'm only spending on this what you should have spent on taking me out for dinner. So hurrah, the wrap thing is being woven as I write. Have also bought cute little pink cashmere tank tops for the Twins. They wore them to bed last night, which I'm very happy with as it ups the cost-per-wear total, and I don't feel quite so extravagant dressing my three-year-olds in cashmere.
Yesterday was pretty much a perfect day, actually. I had coffee with a lovely friend, then we went to the cashmere shop, then had a haircut (from someone who trained at Toni & Guy, but only charges a fiver for a cut and blow), then did a bit of writing in a cafe and had lunch (not New Orleans cafe, which I'm boycotting at the moment), then saw marvellous Christmas production at the British School. Couldn't help a bit of a blub when the polar bear cubs came on stage...
So it's back to school to see the play again today, this time with Hubby. I'm planning on getting there half an hour early so we can get a front row seat - the best bit is being waved at. And tonight it will be the fabulous partners' club (two husbands) function in the mess. I checked the seating plan to make sure that the lady who gets my 'secret santa' table present will actually fit into it (the pink pajamas). Have also made sure that she is not sitting on the same table as me, so I don't get so see her face when she opens her present (although I'm sure she will be as thrilled as I would be to get a pair of pink pajamas with a puppy motif from Santa).
After the meal there are party games. I'm quite keen on having a go at the eat-as-much-chocolate-as-you-can-with-a-knife-and-fork-and-gloves-on, but less keen on musical chairs. Apparently it's quite competitive - many of the Brit wives are sensibly wearing trousers for speed and ease of sitting. Must make sure I drink plenty of mulled wine beforehand.

Sunday 7 December 2008

no more eggs hollandaise ever!

Dodgy tummy yet again. Must remember not to have eggs hollandaise at New Orleans cafe ever again. Have been feeling queasy for days and the inevitable (but somewhat belated) bottom explosion came this morning. Sorry, too much information probably.
I did have grand plans to start going to the gym three times a week, but the chef at New Orleans cafe has put paid to that. Still, even though I haven't improved my fitness, I'm quite sure I haven't put on any weight, so you know, silver lining and all that.
I can't honestly think about what else I've done this week or weekend. Although I'm sure it's lots. Book is going dispiritingly slowly. I'm worried that my main characters are all a bit lacklustre, and the plot is shuffling rather than racing, but maybe that's just a reflection on how I've been feeling. I have to say I'm rather annoyed with my heroine, who does seem to be turning into a bit of a victim, which is not good at all. Still, I'm sure I can find some inner cynicism to spice her up  somehow.
This weekend I have done very little except moan, clutch my stomach and look pathetic. Which means Hubby has had to do a lot more of the washing up/childcare stuff than usual. He has done a very good job, but it has used up every scrap of his patience, so he has run off (literally) to the gym to escape domesticity and feel like a man again. So I'll be putting the kids to bed in a minute. Because I'm a bad mother, I have therefore opted for the watch-extra-DVD-and-go-straight-to-bed-without-a-story option.
It's getting colder every day out here, and hurrah for that. I'm off to the cashmere shop tomorrow and not even a dodgy egg hollandaise will stop me.
Exciting week ahead what with school play (I have two polar bear cubs and a narrator to cheer for), wives xmas function and a James Bond night in the mess. Sunil the tailor has promised to have my stuff ready on Tuesday, but even as he spoke, alien tentacles were grasping at his ankles and a shaft of blue light was strobing down from the mother ship. So we'll see...

Tuesday 2 December 2008

not pate for lunch AGAIN!

Sorry I haven't been in touch for a bit. Internet connection has been a bugger. What's been happening here? The 521 lads have gone home (that's 'five-two-one', like Hawaii five-oh, not five hundred and twenty one lads - which might have been pretty exciting - actually there were about ten of them). They have been building a new water treatment works on camp. Thought I might write them a little goodbye poem:

So,
Farewell then,
521 lads.
You built water treatment works
And drank beer
Here.

Yes, well that's enough poetry. They flew out on the Friday morning, and General Dannatt (apologies for spelling, I'm sure that's wrong) flew in around the same time. They might even have passed him at the airport and exchanged a cheery wave. The General, who is higher than God, in army terms (not sure what this would be, perhaps a great theory which unifies our understanding of the universe, personified), came to do some very important things like talk to the prime minister and stuff, but he also got roped into opening the new water treatment works, lucky man. Hubby forced him to drink a glass of the treated water, which he didn't seem to keen on (I don't think his hair has turned green or his tongue dissolved - yet). That was the important bit. For all of us lesser mortals (aka wives), we got to have a cup of tea with Lady Dannatt, who seemed jolly nice. As she was the wife of the great theory that unifies our understanding of the universe personified, I thought there would at least be decent biscuits, maybe with chocolate. But no, it was some boring old cake, with a few raisins scattered through like an afterthought. No wonder she seemed pretty keen to get away (although this might also be because she had twins 1&2 hanging onto her ankles like a pair of grubby leg warmers).
So after that pinnacle of excitement on friday, the weekend was somewhat anti-climatic. No 521 or important generals this week. Just me, and Grumpy Hector, who is making us all nervous with his male version of PMT. I'm not quite sure why having pate for lunch AGAIN and a cup of tea that's TOO BIG, causes so much wrath, but then again, he has to put up with me eating my body weight in chocolate and getting shouty and tearful on a regular basis, so can't complain!

Monday 24 November 2008

In my opinion...

Hubby is now a fluent Nepali speaker. He thinks. Actually the only sentence he can speak with any degree of grammatical accuracy is: "In my opinion, my wife is a little fat". He has said this with irritating frequency today, as it never fails to elicit loud guffaws from the locals (the loudest of all from Meena-the-cook). As I haven't done the introductory Nepali course, I can only respond with: "I like papaya" or "Come at ten o'clock", which doesn't really work as a witty and acid-tongued response. I will have to resort to just making 'Joey Deacon' faces at him over the cornflakes at breakfast time. Because I'm mature like that.

Friday 21 November 2008

Also, I have discovered the secret power base behind expat Kathmandu. There are a group of ladies-who-lunch on a Friday at a nice restaurant in town. Today I just happened to be there with Mum and Twins at the same time. They are all Very Important Wives - wives of ambassadors, commanders, head of UN etc. Will have to bug their table to see if I can discover any exciting gossip about the expat community, as its highly unlikely I will ever be invited along, especially not with tomato-sauce-chops and poo-pants with me (cute from a distance, noisy and smelly close up).  
And talking of the expat bubble: I managed to miss a whole day of civil unrest yesterday, just by being cocooned in lady-of-leisure-land: Mum and I took the kids to the British School (nice private school mainly for DfID and UN kids) and then went on to a hotel for an art class. The class overran, so we decided to have lunch at the hotel, then we popped into the cashmere shop next door to order a jumper, by which time it was time to pick the kids up from school again. On the way home all the shops were shuttered up and the streets were empty of vehicles (which Hubby would describe as a 'combat indicator').  Turns out there had been street protests throughout Kathmandu all day, all the public schools were shut, stones were thrown at cars and the riot police were out in force. All this happened between about nine and two, whilst we were all tucked up safely in private school/plush hotel respectively. 
I love the life I lead, don't get me wrong, but I do worry about turning into some kind of latter-day Marie-Antoinette, just completely divorced from reality ('Will someone please tell the rabble to riot a little more quietly; some of us are trying to finish our portraiture class in time for a salad on the terrace')...

in his dreams

Hubby has made it down from the mountains with Dad. He phoned tonight, sounding very, very drunk - but insisting he had only had two beers - and harangued me for half an hour because he had a dream last night in which I apparently copped off with some welsh channel 4 presenter. Tried to explain that I'm not responsible for his overly paranoid subconscious, but he was having none of it. Whilst he was having that dream, I was asleep  at home fully clad in my my fleece and yoga trousers, because it has come pretty darn chilly this week. Looking like that, I'd be unlikely to cop off with David Blunkett, let alone some dishy TV presenter. Hubby said that in the dream he was absolutely livid because I was looking 'fit as you fancy' as well. So it obviously wasn't me he was dreaming about. Ah well, he will have forgotten all about it in the morning after his wild night on the town with Dad...

Wednesday 19 November 2008

Two drivers, one car

Hubby is wise. He told me that if I didn't phone Bishu Ram (the driver with the imaginary broken leg), then one day he would just turn up and expect his job back. I said I'd phone him. Then I forgot all about it.
This morning I was upstairs putting on some slap (to try to make myself look vaguely human before the school run), when son announced that Vasu (new, nice driver) was here and so was Bishu Ram (lying old driver). So, lipstick in hand, I had to rush downstairs and do a bit of impromptu human resources ie. tell Bishu Ram to stop taking the p*ss and sling his hook. Although I did it with a smile on my face, because I'm nice like that. He still tried to get either his job back or get me to pay for his medical expenses, though, the cheeky Chettri. 
So that was a thrilling start to the day.
A day which consisted of shopping, mainly, but sadly no exciting poo on the potty.
Sunil-the-tailor phoned to say couldn't make it. I could barely understand what he was saying, probably because he was making the call from the mother ship in a distant galaxy far, far away. Hopefully he will find a hole in the space-time continuum and make it here tomorrow evening as he has a silk shirt and two Miss Muffet outfits to complete, alien abduction or not.
The book has taken a back seat since parents arrived. I feel a bit sorry for all the characters, being left in limbo like this: the heroine falling for the wrong man, the right man about to go to war, and the heroine's parents failing to patch up their failed marriage. And the brother is about to get blown up, too. I'm sure they will all be happy when I start writing again as they can get some clarity about their future (apart from the brother, who will be gutted - oops wrong terminology, sorry rather sick but unintentional pun there).
Anyway, must go, three kids to put to bed. Ta ra xxx

Tuesday 18 November 2008

shopping mostly, and an exciting poo

I've given myself an ebay ban, but it's proving almost impossible to keep to. All those things that I'm sure I really, really need, if only I could just have a little peek... but no, I mustn't. It's a waste of time, money and another good reason that I can't remember. Still I'm managing to get some vicarious retail therapy in by having Mum around, which I'll tell you about in a bit.
The only really exciting thing that happened today is that Twin 2 did a poo on the potty. We were all so thrilled that we just had to phone up Hubby and tell him. He is in Pokhara with Dad. They are going on a three-day trek together, for a jolly old bit of father-in-law/son-in-law bonding. Good luck to them both! 
Hubby was muttering darkly on the phone about getting drunk and going to see the dancing dwarfs. Which should be a reet ol' laff, with my seventy-four-year-old father. 
Mum is happy to miss out on dancing dwarfs and scaling peaks. She just wants to shop. I asked her this morning if she wanted to go to a famous temple with great views over the city, but she said she didn't give a stuff and would rather max out on her visa card (I am paraphrasing, of course). 
There haven't been too many tuts or frowns indicating my lax parenting skills either - luckily kids have all had their charming pants on all week. So I'm keeping my fingers crossed that I don't go for the double whammy and fall out with her as well.
So tomorrow we are off into town again, to buy silver necklaces, fleeces and bicycle clips (today we bought fossils, jewelry boxes and pashminas). By the time Mum has finished her xmas shopping, there will be tumbleweed rolling through the streets of Kathmandu, as the shop owners loll on their yachts in the Caribbean.


Friday 14 November 2008

here we go again

So, I have already fallen out with my Dad. It happened with depressing inevitability less than 48 hours into their visit. Now I have a permanent knot in my stomach. I just should not have been drawn into a late night discussion. I should have said no to the hot chocolate and gone straight to bed. And of course I should have kept my opinions to myself. 
Still, they are off to Chitwan today, and as luck would have it the flight has been put forward by a couple of hours, so they leave mid-morning. They haven't got up yet, so I'm writing this, waiting downstairs to apologise (again). Hopefully by the time I've apologised and they've had breakfast it will be time for them to leave...

Monday 10 November 2008

parents - yikes!

Quick one. Have to get one in before somewhat scary parental visit - they arrive tomorrow evening. I have had some emergency reflexology today to calm me down. It will be lovely to see them and I'm sure it will be fine (so long as I remember to breathe deeply, think happy thoughts and not get embroiled in any of Dad's late night 'discussions' - discussion being a euphemism for reactionary ranting).
Kathmandu is getting colder by the day, but luckily I have taken to cashmere layering. I'm pretty excited about it getting really cold in January as it will necessitate another visit to the pashmina shop. I have been shopping for slipper socks and flannelette pajamas on ebay (the latter turned out to be baby pink with patterns of cartoon puppies on, so I think they may possibly end up as a secret santa present at the wives xmas party - but don't tell anyone). Hubby says he needs slippers, so that's his xmas present sorted. He needs a tool kit as well, he says. Whatever happened to the wild and reckless young soldier I married?! Still, if I can get excited about the prospect of a new cashmere tank top, I can't exactly claim to be the wild and reckless young filly I once was (actually I wasn't - I mean, how can anyone who has Dire Straits on their playlist claim to be wild and reckless in the slightest? think I was probably only ever as wild and reckless as a warm cup of cocoa. In fact I remember a drunken discussion in my twenties when we were asking people in the group what kind of food they thought your personality was. I was hoping to be something exotic, lobster thermidor at the least, but the conclusion was that I was an Irish coffee with not enough whiskey and too much cream. Talk about damning with faint praise.).
Went to Remembrance Sunday at the Embassy, with the kids. Everyone remarked on how good they were, but what they didn't realise was that they were getting drip fed Smarties throughout the entire service. It was good to go. I blubbed at the Last Post, of course. The Embassy handily enough has a climbing frame and clubhouse, so it was actually a pretty nice family outing, which seems like a strange thing to say about Poppy Day. There is another one on camp tomorrow (kids will be at school, but I might take Smarties anyway).
Then Parents arrive in the evening. 
I'm expecting to have my re-sitting-maths-A-level-without-revision nervous dream tonight in anticipation...

Wednesday 5 November 2008

ps - I might have amoebic dysentery. Really excited about the prospect as I remember learning about it in 'o' level biology. After the last exploding bottom incident, I had to give a 'hot stool' sample (which basically means it's straight from the lavvie to the lab), which felt pretty dramatic - and I managed to impress our doctor by being able to poo on demand, although it's not difficult when you have diohrea (apologies for spelling). Anyway, the results appeared to show that I have dysentry. The doctor is sceptical though, as I look a bit too healthy, so today I had to do yet another poo in a pot to present to the med centre. I am hoping that it is dysentry, because last time I was abroad for any length of time I was boringly healthy, whilst everyone else seemed to contract typhoid/guardia/malaria. 
Still, I have just bought slipper socks for the whole family so at least we can rule out the whole cold-feet-causing-runny-poo theory posited by our housekeeper.

Wolfmanche!

Hubby is away in the UK. I was tempted to ask Gary-the-dog to take his place on the double bed - Tibetan mastiffs are nice and furry and warm - but had I done so then by now Gary would be ordering rare steak from Meena and I would be sleeping on cold concrete in the guard house. He is not a dog to be trifled with. 
Haven't heard from Hubby at all. He is at a forum on estate management, and could hardly contain his excitement on the prospect of finding out new and innovative ways to fix toilets and paint walls etc. Either the forum is so engrossing that he can't tear himself away to pick up the phone, or so dull that he's fallen into a deep sleep. (Hmm, wonder which?) Or alternatively he's having an affair with someone in the estate management community - an interesting thought as they all seem to be men of a certain age (and weight, and male-pattern baldness), although who knows, there may be some fox in red stilletoes there whose idea of foreplay is a lengthy discussion on the continuing issue of ammonium in water treatment. Good luck to her.
So since he's been gone we've been to church and been to bonfire/halloween night, so had a good old mix of Christian and Pagan to brighten up the weekend. Although I have to say, the Pagan bit was way more fun. Kids got to dress up as skeleton/pumpkin/cat respectively and go into a haunted house to collect ingredients for a magic potion to help banish the werewolf. After collecting lizards' blood, eye of newt, etc. they took their plastic cups to the wicked witch, who stirred them all up and turned the werewolf into a pumpkin. It was brilliant, and so scary that Twin 2 weed herself (actually, I think she would have weed herself anyway - potty training is a very long process...). Son has slept in the Twins' room ever since,  just in case 'Wolfmanche' decides to reappear.
Whilst writing this I'm listening to my playlist on i-tunes. I chose tracks to remember certain points in my life, but hearing it all just reminds me what shocking music taste I have. 'Every rose has its thorn' by Poison, anyone? or 'Romeo and Juliet' by Dire Straits? Oh deary deary me. I truly was a desperately un-cool teenager. Do hope my kids do a better job of it than me (I can't wait to say 'For God's sake, turn it down - that's not music, it's just noise!').




Saturday 1 November 2008

broken leg, my foot!

I should've guessed. Our absent driver, Bishu Ram doesn't have a long pointy nose because he's a Chettri, it's because he is in fact Pinnochio...
At school yesterday one of the other mums caught me on the way back to the car and asked where Bishu Ram was. I answered that he had broken his leg so we had a temporary driver, Vasu. Oh, she replied, but I saw Bishu Ram at the Shangri-La hotel ten days ago, unloading stuff for Emily (whoever Emily is). I asked whether or not he was on crutches or were there any visible signs of a plaster cast and she said no, he was carrying some big boxes. Are you quite sure it was him, I said. Oh yes, she replied, he worked for us for two years until he fell out with my husband when he smashed a headlight: nice guy, smart, but he talks a bit too much - yes I know Bishu Ram very well. She also told me that this Emily woman is moving to Pakistan in a few weeks - which probably explains why Bishu Ram said he'd be out of plaster cast within a month.
What a cheeky bugger! Obviously just after earning a bit of extra cash for a few weeks and so fabricating an injury.
So it looks like Vasu, the temporary driver, has now gone permanent. 
The silver lining in the whole sorry tale is that I've used what I saved by only paying for a driver for two weeks in October to buy some cashmere tank tops. It is getting quite parky in the mornings now!
ps - Father Christmas has been on ebay and miraculously found a white chicken (not real) for a mere two quid. Don't know if ebay will also be able to come up with a solution to global warming and personal tragedy/depression for under a fiver, but he has assured me he will try...

Thursday 30 October 2008

Borderlands and Belsen

Borderlands turned out to be an even bigger adventure than Pokhara. And not necessarily in a good way. 
Our lovely friend who had arranged the trip assured us that the resort was a mere ninety minutes drive from Kathmandu. We left straight after picking up Son from school at two thirty, and arrived at seven in the evening - you do the maths... partly this was down to several landslides on the road, but also down to her telling us a big fat porky pie.
Anyway, we arrived eventually. Borderlands is very loud, with a river crashing through the canyon on one side and a jungle full of noisy cicadas (or something) on the other, which was good, as it meant we could barely hear the kids whingeing that they were hungry (we normally eat around five). We went to bed straight after supper, lulled to sleep by the roar of the river/cicadas (what are cicadas anyway? are they just big grasshoppers?)/Hubby and Twin 2 coughing up quantities of gunk (they both still have pretend TB). 
The next day everyone else at the resort went canyoning/hiking but we opted for the sit-on-the-grass-and-drink-pretend-cups-of-tea-served-by-Barbie option. Hubby got leeched (which he deserved, being the only one who avoided leeches at Kakani the other week) and I periodically exhorted Twin 2 to try to do her wees and poos on the potty, with limited success. Son went on a massive bug hunt, and in fact returned from the trip with a praying mantis, two grasshoppers, a spider, a moth and a caterpillar. All sadly now dead (we have renamed his insect house 'Belsen'). Actually had quite a pleasant time hanging out in the sunshine for a day and a half. 
It wasn't until it was time to go that things took a turn for the worse.
We decided to leave immediately after lunch on the Sunday, so that we'd be back in time for Twin 2's physiotherapy session. We got as far as the top of the track heading out of the resort when the Land Rover suddenly lost power, so Hubby roll-reversed it back to the campsite. It wasn't long before there was a big gang of Nepali chaps trying to help Hubby to start the car. Realising that it could be some time, Twins and I lay down on a rug under a tree for a nap, and Son went of to catch more bugs. 
Some two hours later, the car finally started again, to whoops of joy all round. 
How happy we were as we jolted over landslides and around precipitous hairpin bends (have come to the conclusion that probably all the roads outside the Kathmandu valley are like this).
We had just been remarking smugly how lucky we were to have broken down so close to the resort, and how much harder it would have been if we'd been halfway to Kathmandu, when the car gave up again. 
This time we managed to bump start it, as we were on a hill, so it only needed a bit of a nudge.
I remembered someone saying that bad things always come in threes.
So, I said to Hubby, if we break down, what happens? He had just finished reassuring me that someone would send mechanics out from camp to fix the car/take us home, when there was yet another depressing silence from under the bonnet.
Handily enough we came to a halt in a village, near a shop with a phone.
And it only took a mere seven hours for the mechanics to make it out from Kathmandu.
During which time the entire village turned out to come and point and giggle at the blonde twins, blond brother and slightly harassed-looking parents.
We were a little late to school on Monday morning.
Then Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday the school has had yet another holiday - Teehar (which is the same as Diwali, I think). 
However, this time we decided not to attempt any more holiday trips. We took the car out once, yesterday, to go to the Supermarket to buy crisps and biscuits (can't cope when our cook is on holiday) and that's it. 
Hubby is back in the UK next week, and the car is going into the garage, and I'm going no further than school. In a taxi.

ps - Oh, forgot to tell you about the wishing well. Last place we went there was a wishing well, and all the children got to throw in a coin and make a wish.
Son asked for the environment to be protected and everyone in the world to be happy; Twin 2 said she wanted to be Cinderella; Twin 1 wished for a white chicken.
I hope Father Christmas was listening!

Friday 24 October 2008

coughs, poos and competitive sports, mainly

So today I will mostly be writing about coughs, poos and competitive sports. Sorry it has been so long since I last wrote. This has been in the main down to coughs and poos, but also downright laziness. 
Hubby still has pseudo-TB. Our nice doctor offered him antibiotics, but he declined, deciding to fight off the infection himself. All very brave and macho, but we have to listen to him hawking like old Steptoe all night. Twin 2 also still has cough. Our housekeeper says we should stop letting her drink cold water, and that will cure it (not sure which medical establishment she trained at?). She also says we need to be careful of walking in bare feet on cold floors as that will give us diohrea (sorry, never can spell it). She may have a point, as I have been struck down with the runs yet again, although the doctor seems to think it's more likely to be down to Guardia than chilly marble flooring. 
Anyway, I'm on a diet of bananas and Dioralyte and antibiotics today, in the hope that I can recover enough for our weekend camping trip to Borderlands. All I know about Borderlands is that it's up near the Tibetan border and that we'll be in a tented camp near a river. I think there are exciting things like kayaking and bungee jumping on offer, but I suspect I will spend quite a lot of time pretending to be a baddie (Twin 1 told me this morning that all grown ups are baddies, so I don't have much choice) and being chased by space heroes, or pretending to be interested when someone points out a leaf that looks like an elephant, or something equally fascinating. I'm going to take a book in the vague hope that I might be able to lounge around a bit, but given our recent experience of family holidays, I'm not expecting to actually read more than a couple of sentences before someone needs a wet wipe/nappy change/air ambulance (don't think these exist in Nepal - best not to dwell on possible health and safety issues of camping in a remote spot in a developing country with small children, probably). So long as my bottom stops exploding I'm quite looking forward to it.
Ah yes, competitive sports, that was the other thing...
Took the Twins to a birthday party on Sunday. Hubby and Son stayed at home with (TB and tummy bug respectively) and watched Thunderbirds. It was a glorious day, the party house was on the edge of Kathmandu with a huge rambling garden and views of the mountains. The lawn was scattered with three and four year old girls in floaty dresses, happily running around pretending to be fairies/princesses/space heroes and mums were chatting over glasses of homemade lemonade. Idyllic. 
Then the dad came along to take charge of the party games. He was a nice chap, but for some reason insisted that the games should be: 
a. physically demanding
b. highly competitive   and
c. have only one winner
Now, Twin 1, despite her diminutive stature, is pretty speedy and competant, but even she tired of the relentless haranguing to jump further or run faster. And for Twin 2, as you know, running, jumping and hopping are simply physical impossibilities. I tried to keep a happy face on, whilst inwardly shouting 'What is wrong with pass the parcel and musical bumps, for God's sake?!'. 
Of course the four-year olds nabbed all the prizes and Twins got nothing.
The next party we have at our house we are going to hire an elephant and eat lots of crisps and chocolate. 
And anyone who mentions a relay race will be summarily executed. 


Friday 17 October 2008

TB and chickpeas

Hubby is languishing in bed beside me and it's only about half past eight here. He thinks he has TB - which may be true, given the amount of hawking and gobbing that goes on in the streets here - but he may just have Twin 1's cough, which she infected us all with in Pokhara (except for Son, who has the immune system of a crocodile ie. has evolved out of catching infections). 
Anyway, now the Monsoon is over it's a bit chilly once the sun's gone down in our big old marble edifice, so bed is the best place to be after about seven o'clock. We were in bed at a similar time last night (and not because of any pre-planned rumpy-pumpy, just because we are a bit useless). Already I'm dreading the winter and planning a big trip to the cashmere shop when the next pay cheque comes in.
Our driver has gone and broken his leg. Not sure how. Maybe it was in desperation at the thought of having to come back to work for us after his Deshain break, in the way that - rumour has it - some squaddies do when faced with yet another operational tour (actually in a previous posting the next door neighbour's daughter's boyfriend broke his arm deliberately so he wouldn't have to go away on exercise, and he ended up being sent to military prison. I did wonder whether throwing yourself down some concrete stairs and then spending a couple of months in jail was really worth it for the sake of avoiding spending three weeks away from your girlfriend...is that the price of true love? I believe they are married now, so maybe it is). I'm not entirely sure how he broke it, or even if it is broken or this is just a big ruse as he can't face the return to the school run (not sure I can either, but equally can't face hurling myself off the balcony to avoid it; do you think a small cut on the finger would get me out of early morning duties for a few weeks?) Anyway, he sent a friend along to drive for us whilst he is off with his leg in plaster. The new chap seems very nice, but nevertheless, I had no references or anything, but needs must and all that, so let him drive me and the kids and another family out for the day today. Luckily he turned out to be neither a car thief nor a psychopath.
We went to Boudha, which is a massive Buddhist stupa (big white dome thing) on the other side of town. Aside from Twin 2 deciding to have an imaginary poo in the middle of the street, and Son pretending the prayer wheels were spaceships - oh, and Twin 1 doing a real poo in the middle of the cafe - it all went quite well. 
When we got home (with all our limbs intact and without the car being sold on to be used in a heist), Sunil the tailor turned up with a half-made cocktail dress for me. Turns out he hadn't been abducted by aliens after all - which I assumed could be the only excuse for him suddenly disappearing off the planet since our last meeting when I tasked him with making a couple of dresses for me - he was just on his Deshain break (for four weeks!). He said he probably wouldn't finish the dress until after Teehar - the next lengthy public holiday, due in about ten days time. I think he must be over-charging if he can afford to have so many holidays. Either that or he's using his at-home dressmaking service as a cover for drug delivery and doesn't really give a stuff about my cocktail dresses.  Still, at least he's honest about not really wanting much work at the moment (he declined to make me three skirts), and not claiming injuries in order to avoid contact with the flaky woman with her manic son and evil twin daughters, which I suspect might be the case with Bishu Ram, our 'medically downgraded' driver.
By the time Hubby came home, Son was zoned in on a DVD, Twins were dancing to 'Barbie Girl' and I was looking for thermal pajamas on ebay. We were all so engrossed we had almost forgotten about supper time. Meena had promised to surprise us with something...and the surprise was...chickpeas and potatoes (mmmm, yummy, just the kind of thing the kids love - erm, not). When I commented that the spicy thing with chickpeas was a bit dry, Hubby said, "Yes, but chickpeas are always like that", as if he's an expert on chickpea cuisine. I don't think he's even eaten one before this evening. He's just on a love-in with Meena because she made him some homemade onion soup at lunchtime whilst we were out. And carrot cake. And what do I get? Chickpea and potato surprise...If I wasn't around they would probably have some kind of wierd gastronomic love affair, involving devilled kidneys and fishnet stockings. 
Doesn't bear thinking about.

Saturday 11 October 2008

five go on a big adventure

We have just had our first family holiday. Hubby has now passed out on the sofa and Son & Twins are allowed unlimited DVDs until further notice. I have lost my voice and also have a chapped nose and a nice bout of Himalayan tummy. It is extremely good to be home.
We've just had Deshain here in Nepal, which is kind of the equivalent of Christmas, so everyone has been off visiting relatives and having parties all week. Our housekeeper pretty much ordered us to go on holiday for a week so she could have a bit of time off, so we decided to drive to Pokhara for the week.
Pokhara is the closest you can get to a seaside resort in Nepal. It's next to a lake, at least. Lots of people use it as a base for trekking, but we decided to forgo the dubious pleasure of trekking with three young children, one of whom has cerebral palsy (although I know lots of parents from school who did decide on that option, which I think is very brave) in favour of some low key sight-seeing. 
It's a six-hour drive to Pokhara. I couldn't face six hours of 'But when are we allowed another sweetie?' and 'Mummy my poo is coming right now', so we elected to overnight at the glorious Riverside Springs Resort, which was bigged up in the Lonely Planet. Of course, what I subsequently remembered was that the Lonely Planet guide is written by and for back packers. I can quite understand that if you have spent the last six months in smelly hostels in India, and have dreadlocks and a beard (both sexes) then the Riverside Springs might seem the height of luxury. But actually it's a bit decrepit and damp, and staffed entirely by Dinesh (our hapless ex-driver)'s less intelligent country cousins. Great pool though.
Then it was on to Pokhara, where we'd booked into the hotel that the army people stay in when they are there, so it was very business-y, but had lots of facilities that we anticipated using when the children were asleep. I had visions of us taking it in turn to go the the gym/health farm/pool whilst the kids happily snoozed. In my dreams. By eight o'clock each evening we were so exhausted that the most activity we could muster was eating chocolate in bed whilst watching Indian MTV.
Pokhara is a bit like Weymouth, but with cows in the road. There are lots of cafes, all of which, happily, serve pizza and chips (kids staple diet for the week). We kept bumping into the very nice postie sergeant from camp and his lovely American girlfriend. They kept feigning surprise and delight as we pitched up at their romantic meals, and inviting us to join them. The girlfriend even pronounced the Twins 'really cute', which proves she was pretending.
There are several things to see and do in and around Pokhara, even if you're not trekking. This Deshain, we discovered, there was an additional attraction: the three-year-old white twins. 
By the end of the week, the girls were learning what it's like to be papped, after being chased, filmed and flashed by a variety of Japanese, Nepali and Indian tourists. One Buddhist monk pounced on Twin 2, kissed her, and showered her in sweets. She took it well. She does a better job of the whole celeb white girl thing than her sister, and tends to just stick her hands up in the air, grin, and tell them her name's Cinderella. Twin 1 just looks huffy and makes a run for it. At one point we got accosted by the lake side and were filmed en famille for a full five minutes. There was no escape, other than diving into Lake Fewa and heading for the far shore, and as three of the five were non-swimmers, this wasn't an option, so we just grizzed it out. I was made to put my arm round some random Nepali woman, and her husband kept exhorting me to move closer. I never found out her name. Or anyone else's, for that matter. Still, they have footage of our entire family grimacing and looking uncomfortably English for their home video.
Glad someone has, as we forgot to take our camcorder - not that we would have had the spare hands to use it in any case.
I suppose the high point (low point, really) of the week was the trip to the bat cave, but I'm still too traumatised by it to write about it. Lets just say that going pot-holing with three small children, one of whom has balance and mobility problems, with a twenty-year-old guide, whose confidence outstrips her life experience or understanding of English, down a wet cave, with no safety equipment, wearing flip-flops, in a region with limited medical facilities, is a really really stupid idea... 


Thursday 2 October 2008

bikes, wives and leeches

I'm so sorry. The internet connection stopped working, so I haven't written or emailed or anything for ages (although have saved a small fortune by being temporarily unable to access ebay), so you have missed my getting food poisoning from the Commander's supper party, being attacked by leeches in the hills, Twin 2s toenail falling off, and scandal amongst the wives. So much can happen in a mere ten days! 
However, the strangest thing of all was seeing a man masturbating whilst riding a bicycle. 
I know this seems unfeasible, not to mention unhealthy, but I saw it with my own eyes (and wish I hadn't, in fact). One can only admire the man's balance and dexterity, and total lack of shame.
I saw this on the way to the monthly partner's club coffee morning, to which I almost didn't go (I'm not sure whether it's the bingo or the samosas that make me feel more nervous), but I did as I had promised to meet someone there so we could go for lunch afterwards. Anyway, I'm glad I did as I arrived in time for a bit of drama. The Commander's wife was stood up, telling the seated circle of partners (all wives, with the exception of one nonplussed looking husband) about a 'bad patch' the partners' club has just been through, and exhorting us all just to 'be nice, and be friends' and explaining that the last week had been a bit like a volcanic eruption amongst the club, and now it was time for the lava to cool... this quite lengthy speech ended with her thanking the club's chairperson for all her hard work and attempting to give her a bunch of flowers. Before she could do so, the now ex-chair ran from the room, hastily pursued by the Commander's wife. There was the sound of scuffling outside. The Commander's wife returned a few minutes later, minus the ex-chairperson, and the bunch of flowers was left abandoned on the coffee table. For a minute or so, nobody spoke, but then everyone remembered it was time to do the bingo.
Turns out that there's been a massive old hoo-har with the partners' club over the last ten days about one thing and another (most of which I've been blissfully ignorant of), which has culminated in the resignation of the chairperson. What scandal! I'm really quite glad I refused to be part of the club's committee when I was given the option, as it seems I have saved myself all kinds of tears, bitterness and recrimination etc. Still, it's been the talk of camp all week, apparently (Hubby has no interest in gossip so is a fairly useless source of information).
Now my advice to all those wives involved (should they ever seek it) would be to get out a bit more. Maybe if they did they would happen across (I was going to write 'come across' there, but it seemed a bit inappropriate) the masturbating cyclist. And it would give them all something else to think about.

Monday 22 September 2008

Just fitting in a couple of minutes whilst kids watch 'Hi 5'. Son is still at school but housekeeper's son, Jack (nearly three), is ever present, so always feel like I have triplets for this after-lunch bit of the day. Seems only fair to let him watch DVD with the others though, as his mum is busy doing our ironing. 
What excitement can I tell you about? Well, I've just received some scented ink cartridges (how did I ever survive without ebay?), which will give added impetus to the writing. Incidentally, I wrote the happy ending this morning, so I feel better about making my heroine's life so miserable last week. Now all I have to do is fill in the gaps, which should keep me busy for the next eighteen months! 
I have just been invaded by the triplets, and even though I've threatened to switch off 'Hi 5' if nobody watches it, they won't go away, so I suppose I had better be a good mother and take a bit of notice of the little tykes. 
Cheerio x
Ah, they've just gone back to the telly, hurrah...so, what else? Had a fork supper with the general on Thursday.
Oh no, they're back...
Bye xxx

Wednesday 17 September 2008

Life drawing wasn't. I got there and there were loads of 18-year-olds drawing plaster casts of feet and copying things from art books. I'd brought along one of my drawings, which the art teacher first asked whether I'd copied and then proceeded to criticize. Anyway, they've got exams coming up and then it's the Desain holiday so I will start in about a month or so, and I'm already nervous about it.
Scary lights came on on the Landrover dashboard this morning, and given my experience earlier this year, I asked Bishu Ram to drive to camp immediately to ascertain the problem. Turns out it's not a big deal, and we've ordered a spare part now. So I forwent a whole hour when I could have been sipping latte and writing to hang about in the camp workshop.
The writing is going slowly, but okay: so far this week my heroine has discovered her grandmother's body, gone to her brother's funeral and discovered that her boyfriend has a pregnant wife. She is also about to get caught in a major earthquake, bless her. All this and it's only Wednesday. It's happened because I reached a bit of an impasse, so decided to write all the key scenes this week, which is very exciting. I was crying when I wrote the bit about her brother's funeral (I am a bit hormonal this week, mind you, so this is no guarantee of the quality of writing, merely that I am a bit of a sap).
Hubby is in Pokhara tonight, quite possibly sampling the delights of the dancing dwarfs. Oh, which reminds me...there was a 'bhund' (like a kind of strike/protest) this week in Thamel, which is the touristy part of Kathmandu. All the dancers and bar girls were out in force to show their anger at the new Home ministers decision to make all the bars and clubs shut at 11pm. It's such a country of contradictions. There's this atmosphere of cheery anarchy everywhere, and yet underneath it all, everyone is as militant as 1970s miners. Can you ever imagine strippers and lap dancers going on strike or out on the streets protesting in the UK? And bhunds like this can happen for all manner of strange things. Apparently earlier this year, Nepali businessmen called a bhund just to protest against the amount of bhunds that had been happening.
And another thing. Today was the day we should have blessed the tools. All the local workmen should have done puja (bringing flowers, food, etc.) on their tools. We forgot to bless our car. Maybe that's why the ABS has given up on us, if we'd heaped the bonnet with rice and marigolds we could have saved ourselves a hundred quid plus labour.
Sunil the tailor was supposed to come round tonight. I'm quite glad he didn't. I've been eating for NATO recently and it would have been quite embarrassing to try on the evening dress I've ordered and then have to send it back to be taken out. I must remember not to eat much supper on Friday when he comes back.
Anyway, I'm off to bed now to write the next bit in the book (where she discovers that she's pregnant by her married-with-a-pregnant-wife ex-boyfriend but she's now in love with someone else. Poor girl, I'm really putting her through the ringer).
TTFN xxxx

Sunday 14 September 2008

Well, sadly no gossip from the Embassy disco. I did dance quite a lot in a flingy about 80s way a lot, and this morning, as I had absolutely no hangover, realise sadly that I do actually dance like that when I'm not drunk. Still, managed to get Hubby onto the dance floor. He is generally such a music snob, but he danced to Dancing Queen and the YMCA. I was very proud. It was a bit odd though, because there were lots of DfID worthies and teachers all going mental to 'Relax' by Frankie goes to Hollywood, and somehow that just didn't sit comfortably with me. These are the very same people who teach my kids PHSE. Anyway, even though I really honestly don't have a hangover today, I do feel like total crap, so suspect I may be getting the cold/typhoid thing. I mustn't mention it to Hubby though. He will put down my air of frowning listlessness to just being a peri-menapausal old witch, which is better than being accused of copying his symptoms I suppose. 
Have my first life drawing session out here booked for tomorrow morning. It will be an experience because the art teacher speaks no English (only Nepali and Russian) and is deaf in any case. I took our driver up as a translator when I booked the lessons, but I'm not entirely sure what they discussed, as they chuntered on together for about half an hour until Bishu Ram eventually said 'Okay, so when do you want to start?'. But when I replied Monday, the art teacher didn't seem particularly happy about the prospect. So, we'll see what transpires...

Friday 12 September 2008

I've got a friday night feeling. Twins are off watching cartoons with the housekeeper's son at the moment, but we have all just finished having a very exciting disco. I've made a playlist with all their favourite tunes (remember 'Barbie Girl', 'Tarzan Boy' or 'Nellie the elephant'?), included in which are two songs about jumping (one by Van Halen and one by the Pointer Sisters) both of which had them leaping off the sofas (or in Twin 2s case falling flat on her face - luckily there were cushions on the floor). So I think they are pretty worn out - looking forward to a nice early night. It was also a bit of a disco rehearsal for me, as we've put our names down to go to a 70s, 80s & 90s night at the British Embassy tomorrow, and I'm  ridiculously excited about the prospect of donning my silver stilletoes and giving it large (or even giving it a cheeky medium rare). The MC is DJ Moondance - even the name sends shivers of excitement through me at the anticipation of some Abba or Blondie or even Oasis (what a sad old knacker I am) and I will just about go mental if he plays Nellie the Elephant! Ah, and the other exciting thing is that all the water treatment soldiers will be there on the hunt for posh totty, and lots of single teachers will be there ripe for a bit of rough seduction. So there should be some lush gossip too, can't wait!

Wednesday 10 September 2008

It's about ten thirty and Hubby is downstairs working. So much for the 'this posting will be easier and I will spend much more time with the family' promise. Ah well, gives me time to write this. I have been far too grumpy to write over the last couple of days, but had reflexology yesterday afternoon, which seems to have largely sorted me out. Also an evening spent watching Corrie and eating chocolate cake has helped! Been round to the Twins' teachers house with a few other teachers to get British telly fix. I'm sure they only invite me to get access to BFBS DVDs (the British Forces Broadcasting Service sends out DVDs of selected UK TV programmes every week) via the library on camp, but I don't care because for a couple of brief hours I can almost forget I am an army wife. It is proving slightly problematic though as our new driver, Bishu Ram, goes home at six. I was happy to take a taxi, but Hubby wouldn't hear of it, being worried that a single woman in a taxi at night would open herself up (so to speak) to abduction. Chance would be a fine thing, I thought, that anyone would be interested in a saggy old mum-of-three, still it's sweet of him to be so chivalrous. However, he was in a slightly irate mood, brought on by work stress/screaming kids at the supper table/power failure to our quarter (think this was the last straw as it was his department that should have fixed the electricity stuff) and I did fear for the safety of other road users, so it was a relief to arrive and escape to Weatherfield for a bit.
So, yes, our new driver is called Bishu Ram and despite his diminutive size (he makes Prince look like a professional rugby player and has had to place a big log under his seat so that he can see above the steering wheel) he is a good driver... it's five days in and he's only pranged two motorbikes and one bloke's arm. He is also posh, in Nepali terms, being a Brahmin. Apparently the pointy nose is a giveaway on this point. The other staff seem a bit wary of him, but maybe they are just missing Dinesh. He doesn't seem to have Dinesh's patience, but that might be because he is a pointy nosed Brahmin and expects all the dalits (lower castes) to make way for him. I'm not sure. But he is very nice to us, and it's great to have a driver I can actually talk to, if I want to (have been so grumpy that I haven't wanted to much). The only downside is that he doesn't do evenings and as I'm still a scaredy cat about the whole Nepali driving experience (plus I haven't got my local licence yet), that means its down to Grumpy Hector to ferry me around.
On Monday night we went out to a restaurant called Chez Caroline. I thought this was just a made up name, but whilst we were there one of our party pointed out that Caroline herself was eating in the restaurant that night. I felt as if I was in the presence of a celebrity, and it really heightened the gastronomic pleasure of the salade caroline and chocolate mousse. 
Of course we weren't having a romantic dinner a deux, we were with a big group of army bods who were terribly important (although not actually living deities, as some visitors are), whom Hubby has been showing around this week. They also seemed quite impressed with Caroline's tasty treats - but then I suppose almost anything would be exciting if you had spent the day viewing the hole where a water treatment works will soon be built or some other such thrilling thing. 
Hubby has finally made it upstairs, so will go now xxx

Sunday 7 September 2008

Curry night went very well, I think. Twins were happy: Twin 2 got to twirl around in a very wobbly way in front of about twenty soldiers and explain that she was Cinderella many, many times, and Twin 2 got to sit in a cardboard box and be booted around the floor by her Dad. Son got to watch Tarzan DVDs until bedtime (with no bath) so he was happy, too. Not sure what the poor lads felt about being entertained by a pair of three-year-olds. I was sure they'd have a couple of drinks to be polite and then skedaddle into town, but they were still around at eleven, quaffing beer and having random drunken discussions about whether or  not people keep their accents when they sing. 
Hubby went off early the following morning with a large flask of tea to do a four-by-four rally in the hills with some other army bods. The kids and I just chilled listening to music and eating cake off paper plates and pop in paper cups (well, why pay staff and then have to wash up at the weekend?!  - actually they were left over from the previous night). Then their lovely Twin friends came over with their Mum and whisked us off (well, not exactly 'whisked', drove very slowly in the rain, as only one windscreen wiper was working) to the British Embassy, where you can get nice chips and there is a climbing frame - these things are important, you know.
Hubby's typhoid/cold thing seems to be getting worse. He managed to get up for us to go to a very posh hotel to use their very posh pool and eat very posh pizza, but spent the whole time curled up on a sun lounger. It didn't bother the kids much as they were busy ingratiating themselves with the other three guests. They like to have new victims and explained variously that they were Cinderella/building a bug nature reserve/like pink but not white respectively. The guests were charmed, or at least pretended to be. 
Hubby went to bed as soon as we got home. I would like to say it's 'man flu' but think he might actually have a cold and typhoid and possibly bilharzia, sinusitis and some other things too...

Thursday 4 September 2008

I need to tell you that the bear in Brideshead Revistied is in fact called Aloysius, and the bear's owner is called Sebastian Flyte. So there goes by alternative career as quiz mistress. Anne Robinson's job is safe for another few years (by which time she will have had even more plastic surgery and will look even younger, no doubt). 
So Dinesh has gone, and the new driver didn't turn up so I have been relying on scary small taxis to pick the Twins up from school. Luckily I can now say 'left' and 'right' in Nepali (I can also say, 'I like beef' and 'I don't like papya', but these don't impress a speeding taxi driver halfway round a dog-infested roundabout). The new driver starts in the morning. He is five foot two and weights fifty two kilograms - I know, because it says so on his CV. He has also just got married to an eighteen year old girl who is still in school. It's an arranged marriage (he is twenty seven), but he seems pretty happy with it. I hope he remembers to turn up, otherwise I may have to get behind the wheel myself, which will be a scary option not just for me, but for the pedestrians, dogs and cows of Lalitpur too.
Hubby still has his cold/typhoid thing and I remain remarkably symptom free, so maybe his tactic of secrecy worked.
A big gang of Hubby's old workmates have just arrived here to do a water treatment project. Two of them were lucky enough to meet us in the pool this afternoon. Twin 1 clung to me, telling me to keep her away from the 'horrible men', whilst Twin 2 paddled over and waved her naked Barbie doll in their faces, telling them interesting snippets of information: 'Barbie got wet hair', 'Barbie got no clothes on, no', 'Barbie got long hair like Mummy', 'Me Cinderella' etc. etc. They left shortly afterwards. Lucky for them the Barbie/Twin 2 experience is not yet over, as the whole team has been invited to ours for curry tomorrow (Meena's eyes went very wide at the prospect of supper for twenty, but I have full confidence in her chapatti-making abilities so I think it will be fine). I will make sure that Twin 2 has her entire Barbie collection is on hand to entrance the lads - I'm sure they will be thrilled.

Tuesday 2 September 2008

Hubby is ill. He is being very secretive about it though; he says he won't tell me what's the matter as I will just instantly produce copycat symptoms. He seems to think that whenever he contracts some kind of disease I exhibit some kind of Munchausen-ish desire to follow suit. Think I might have to get the doctor to explain the rudiments of infection to him. Or better still, ask Son, who is six, but understands that if you are in close proximity to someone who is ill, you are quite likely to catch some of their germs. Anyway, I noticed a box of Dequadin on his bedside table earlier, so I think it's just a poxy sore throat, and not typhoid, as I was beginning to suspect (someone else's husband has typhoid at the moment. I thought we were vaccinated against it, but turns out the vaccine is only sixty per cent effective; so going by things purely statistically, at least two of our family could catch it...look forward to that).
It might not be genuine illness, anyway, it might be a curse placed on him by Dinesh, our hapless driver. Or rather our hapless ex-driver, as he is now. He is a lovely man, but ultimately his air of smiling ineptitude pushed Hubby over the edge. Our new driver, Kumar, should start in the morning, although he seems to be uncontactable at the moment, so he may not turn up, and then we'd be driver-less, which,  some might contend, would serve us jolly well right.
I wanted to tell you all about the pack of dogs that has colonised the roundabout near us. Not the nice green bit in the middle of the roundabout, with shrubs and trees, you understand. No, the actual bit of road with a million cars and bikes screeching round. Initially there was just one dog, who used to sleep there occasionally. Evidently his mates cottoned on, and a few days later there were four of them. Then, when we went out on Saturday, there were at least a dozen, and they weren't sleeping, they were having a full-on swingers party (don't think they bothered with the car keys on the coffee table thing). Dogging in its purest form. Perhaps the petrol fumes and odd prang from a passing tuk-tuk heightened the experience. But now they've gone. And I'm a bit sad about it. I quite liked the idea of canines reclaiming the streets. If they joined forces with the cows and the temple monkeys they'd really be onto something, and the roads would be practically impassable.
There were some other things I wanted to tell you about, but I can't remember them now. Will write soon x

Sunday 31 August 2008

Friday was thrilling. Not only was there the class assembly (I noticed they cynical mum behind me had brought her soduku in with her). Son remembered his two sentences, and almost remembered to say them in the right order. We were Proud Parents (didn't cry though). Then, his twin friends came round for the first ever Sleepover. We had egg and chips and running and screaming and trifle and chocolate crispies and more running and screaming until about nine o'clock, by which time they'd all conked out in one room. The Twins were just beside themselves with the excitement of having their big brother and his two friends sleeping on their floor. Hubby very sensibly worked late that night and only got home in time to read them all a story and say goodnight. Odd how the fullness of his in-tray seems to coincide with the number of visitors to our house...

Thursday 28 August 2008

Just a quickie. Have had more than half a pint, so this may be somewhat incoherent. Just got back from my second 'do' of the week - life really is one gay old social merry-go-round in British Gurkhas Nepal. Unfortunately at all these (oddly Groundhog Day-ish as they all revolve around speeches and dahl bhat) events, I just seem to get into an interesting conversation with someone when there is a terribly important announcement/speech/dance/bingo/raffle. At least have managed to have a brief chat with a couple of Gurkha wives now so feel marginally less culturally estranged. Sort of...
Last night we had Teej party for all the wives, where we all got to wear our red saris and bindis, just to prove we were married. I think we are also supposed to wash our husband's feet as well, but i skipped that bit. Also my bindi fell off and my sari kept exposing my bra strap - so I feel I'm not a terribly good wife, in Hindu terms anyway. The highlight of the Teej party was the raffle, which had great prizes like a pair of mugs with Mickey Mouse on them, and a box of Ferraro Rocher. The whole thing was set up like some surreal game show, with lots of whooping and clapping whenever a number was called. Incredibly, I actually won a prize. And, yet more incredible, was that it was a lovely black bead choker, which I think I will wear lots. So thumbs up for Teej - think I will make the effort to go again next year.
Tomorrow Son has his first class assembly, which we are all very excited about. He has been practising his two sentences all week. I am expecting to be very proud, and possibly tearful, at around quarter past two tomorrow afternoon.
Don't think there are any functions scheduled next week, which will be very strange and a bit awkward, because it will mean there's nothing to talk about to the people who you don't have anything to talk about to (does that make sense?). I'm sure someone will invent some special occasion over the weekend, to which we will be obliged to attend. Hubby is starting to tire of them as they are really quite samey, but at the moment I'm quite happy to pop out for a beer and a curry in my high heels every week. Tragic - I'm such a cheap date!

Monday 25 August 2008

The whole class rep thing went ok, in the end - a houseful of small manic people and slightly awkward parents (or maybe that was just me). There was plenty of cake eating, punctuated by the wierd "...and who are you with?" question (the answer seemed to be mostly DfID). I have promised to organise something without children next time, which will be even scarier, as I won't have the excuse of random nappy changing in order to escape. Hubby managed to miss the whole shebang (that doesn't look right - not sure how to spell it) by working late, until all the little darlings had gone home. So Friday ended ok. We had elected not to go to the pirate fancy dress party in the mess, which somehow didn't appeal (probably because we are antisocial killjoys).
Saturday we did nothing at all, except going for a swim on camp and forcing the children to have an afternoon sleep so that we could have one, and so that we could eat out in the evening. Hubby drove (Dinesh's day off) for the first time. He said it was 'fine' - I'm not sure all the random Nepali pedestrians, dogs and bike riders who were forced to fling themselves into the gutter to escape our battered Landrover would agree. Anyway, we made it to the cafe ok. Unfortunately we had the least patient waiter I have ever encountered, who decided that the 'babies' should have mashed potato and that Saheb should have a beer, before our bottoms had barely brushed the seats. Twins decided that as they are now big (three year old) girls, that they were far too old for mashed potato. And I'm happy to say that Hubby declined the beer option in favour of a coke (good news for other road users on the hairy mc scary journey home too - he needs to remember his driving glasses next time; it's not enough not to be inebriated, you have to actually be able to see). Afterwards we listened to some live music outside and looked at the fairy lights, which Son pronounced beautiful. So a pretty good Saturday, really. 
On Sunday, we felt we really had to 'do' something, as Dinesh was in work again (thankfully). So we decided to try Kathmandu Durbar Square, which is where all the old temples and palaces etc, are in the middle of town. It sounded pretty good in the guide book, but what we hadn't realised was that it was not pedestrianised, so we were trying to gaze in awe at the beautiful carvings and architecture, whilst simultaneously whisking three small children out of the way of speeding motorbikes and manic rickshaws. A bit like trying to appreciate Exeter cathedral in the middle of the M25. So not ideal. To escape from the madness, we went back to the Garden of Dreams for lunch. The Garden is this lush, exotic oasis, full of water features and with a great cafe. Son decided to do a bit of exploring before lunch. I'm not entirely sure whether he was being a space hero or an alien attacker, but he ended up at the bottom of an ornamental pond. We all tried very hard not to laugh. Actually, the waiters didn't try too hard - suppose it's not every day that a small blonde boy hurls himself off the marble colonades and into the drink. He took it quite well, really, although there was much muttering about cold knees for the rest of the afternoon.
Anyway, should go, Hubby needs to do something important with this computer and a memory stick. xxx

Friday 22 August 2008

Feeling very glum as I have lost my fountain pen. Also have hideous stomach cramps. Would like to huddle in a pitiful ball but as the pre-school class rep I am hosting a play date for twenty little tykes this afternoon, and their parents - Meena has been baking chocolate chip cookies all week - so I am not allowed to be gloomy or ill. Cannot whip up the enthusiasm for writing the book this morning without my pen, either. I have looked everywhere. Gutted. Well, I'm off to the loo now, and depending how that goes, I'm off to the med centre as well. Just thought I'd share that with you...

Tuesday 19 August 2008

We did make it to the non-monkey temple, which was amazing, and actually far nicer without the glaring and somewhat scary monkeys. Think I might have got ripped off in a tourist shop by paying 900 rupees for skirts for Twins and myself and Hubby and I had a little spat in the car regarding my useless haggling skills. Until we realised that we were arguing about whether I paid seven pounds or eight pounds for the skirts, which isn't much, either way. On the way back we went to pick up a leather skirt I've just had made, which is lush and all the kids fell asleep in the car, missing an interesting sight of lots of Lady Boys in fancy dress - or maybe that's how they usually dress - in rickshaws. Dinesh told us that the procession was because it was 'Cow Day' or something, but his (limited) English and our (even more limited) Nepali didn't lead to any further explanation. I can only begin to wonder why men wearing make up and high heels swanning about in bicycle-powered vehicles has anything to do with the deification of cows...
In the evening one of Hubby's colleagues came over with ice cream (hurrah) and regaled us with tales from her extraordinarily tangled love life. She also told me that there's a wives' trip to Calcutta (Kolkata?) planned for November, which got me all excited, until I realised that the sole purpose of the trip is to go to Marks and bloody Spencer  to get Christmas stuff. Pul-ease! Surely there must be better reasons for flying to Calcutta than visiting Marks & Spencer?
Last night I got invited round to someone's house to watch three-month old episodes of Coronation Street (on video) - which is not quite as tragic as flying to India to get English gravy and stuffing, but is still a bit mad. Still, the company was lovely and so was the wine and chocolate, so I may be tempted to become a Corrie fan, just while we're in Nepal, you understand.
Went out today with Sanu, our housekeeper, to buy a sari for Teej. I'm chuffed because the trip took half an hour and my sari is about half the price of anyone else's. Very efficient. And I'm sure nobody will know that the beading on mine was done by machine and not by hand. 
Oops Snow White has finished, time to do bed time...

Saturday 16 August 2008

Sounds like we're living in a waterfall; monsoon rains barrelling it down. Hope weather is better in Blighty for friend's wedding, which I'm pretty sad to be missing. 
Saturdays out here are like Sundays in the UK. The big shops are open, but it's nominally a day of rest. Our great plan was to go to the Patan museum this morning, as we can walk there from our house (Dinesh doesn't work on a Saturday) - not for the history lessons and artefacts, you understand, but because it has a great cafe and clean toilets. But it started to rain, which actually was a good thing as kids are so exhausted after their very exciting first week at school, and furthermore Hubby is grumpy because they woke us up at five thirty this morning and he still has a cricked neck,  that it would probably have turned into a bit of a nightmare. Right now, sixty per cent of the family are asleep (Hubby and twins), Son is watching DVD so the monsoon is a good thing, for preventing us from thinking that we have to go out and do something, and allowing us all to droog about instead. Have plans to go and see another temple tomorrow, a bit like the monkey temple, but without the monkeys. Kids seemed a bit underwhelmed at the prospect of a temple without monkeys, but we'll give it a go. 
Hubby has just rearranged the living room (which made Son cry because in the process he destroyed a special secret hiding place between the coffee table and the sofa - think when I've finished bringing up kids I should work for the UN because there was almost as much diplomacy involved in sorting that debacle out as there was earlier on when Twin 1 destroyed Son's special secret mountain of cushions), which handily enough has left a great expanse of floor space, just begging for a nice big Tibetan rug. I also need to go and buy a red sari for Teej; I'm not entirely sure what Teej is, but I do know that I have to have a red sari for it, and everyone else has already bought theirs. I'm hoping that it will involve some booze and tasty Nepali snacks. Must go, there is a bottom that needs wiping (not mine)...

Wednesday 13 August 2008

We are currently car-less. Dinesh, our driver, waited until after our trip down the muddy hairpin bends in the pouring rain on Sunday to tell us that the brakes are shot. And there's a leak in the fuel tank. And the oil tank too. So I had to pick the girls up from school by taxi (no seat belts, natch; luckily, thanks to cows, dogs and lack of pavements, the traffic is pretty slow and congested so I think they would survive a prang). 
Whilst the girls were at school this morning I went on a little organised trip round our local hospitals, just to see where we'd go if something happened. They actually weren't nearly as scary as I'd thought - not much more dilapidated than your average NHS hospital can be. And I saw people actually cleaning the floor with what certainly smelled like disinfectant. Apparently, in terms of the clinical side, they are pretty good, it's just the other stuff which can be lacking, such as screens for privacy etc. Still, I'm keeping my fingers crossed that the twins (who both seem blissfully unaware of their physical limitations and attempt stupidly ambitious physical feats at the drop of a hat) manage to stay out of hospital for the next two years. Son is thankfully somewhat more cautious, although I can imagine him thinking about something very interesting (the other day at breakfast he asked, "Mummy, what happened before the Big Bang", for example) and walking out in front of a big truck/rickshaw/cow.
The one worrying thing was at the hospital closest to us we were shown the 'disaster point', where we should muster post-earthquake, which got me thinking about the whole horrendous natural disaster thing all over again. I spoke to the doctor about it all, whose son is in the Twins' pre-school class, and she was distinctly un-reassuring, saying that after having seen photos of the recent chinese earthquake she thinks we're basically done for. Good oh!

Tuesday 12 August 2008

Son said his first day at school was 'fantastic' and twins are in love with Miss Susan, so nobody is missing the summer holidays at all - least of all me; I spent a lovely morning in a cafe planning a novel (although because I've got lots of time, the plot is rapidly becoming more tangled and dense than Gary-the-dog's fur), and after lunch I went out for a spot of reflexology. I'm shattered now! 

Sunday 10 August 2008

Two pink fairy bags and one blue Scooby Doo bag are ready to go in the hallway. Yes it's the end of the summer hols for us (they run from end of June here), and kids are going to school in the morning. Have mixed feelings about it, as we have had a pretty good time (although spent far too much money in cafes buying fizzy pop and chips), and despite the odd lurgy - finally succumbed to Kathmandu tummy last week and am fast approaching a size 10 again, hurrah - I have been an alright mum, way less shouty than in the UK. Still, I have plenty of ideas for what to do with my three hours spare time every morning, and they don't involve either shopping or going to coffee mornings, much to Hubby's relief. I did, however, make it to one coffee morning on Friday as it was one to welcome newcomers, which was nice, if a bit too formal for me (I'm not big on standing up in the middle of a circle of around thirty women and having my photo taken). The kids came too, and were little angels, far too busy eating the free cake and crisps on offer to bother even getting out of their seats or showing any interest in my inaugauration (not sure how to spell that one?) into the 'partners' club'. Managed to cut loose before the bingo started, using the kids getting bored as a pretext (although I think they would happily have sat there scoffing carbs for another hour or so). Friday was one big social whirl actually, with the welcome coffee morning and then a do in the mess in the evening. I have never been to an evening quite like this one before (although from what I'm told, I certainly will again - probably every month): the night kicked off with bingo (again! seems a bit of an obsession...), followed by some pretty tasty curry, although I made a bit of a cultural faux pas by joining the mens' queue for the food, when I should have eaten first with the ladies - although Hubby and I were too busy asking the Chief of Staff about being a buddhist (never really got an answer about how someone who believes so strongly in the sanctity of all life that he won't even squash a mosquito can happily spend his career as a colonel in the British army. A pretty big big contradiction, huh?) so I missed the call for the ladies' scoff. Afterwards there were some speeches where there was an inverse relationship between interesting content and length of monologue. And then, there was some really quite exciting Nepali dancing, where the dancers lip synched to some tinkly changly (yes i made that word up but if you'd heard it you'd know what i mean) folk tunes. The gist of the dancing seemed to suggest luscious young girls trying not to fall in love with grinning young lads. It was an interesting cultural experience for me, at least for the first half hour, but then I started to think that maybe if you've heard one tinkly changly tune with a gorgeous snake-hipped Nepali mouthing the words, then perhaps you'd heard them all. So Hubby and I did a tactical withdrawal. By this stage Hubby had quaffed a full three pints (fifty per cent more than on a usual night out!) and embarked on a long discourse with my Health Visitor, who also happened to be there, during which he remarked on our sex life at least five times. I will not be able to look her in the eye next time I pop in to discuss the children's vaccinations.
On Saturday he had a hangover, although he claimed to be grumpy merely because he had a cricked neck from sleeping oddly...
Today we escaped Kathmandu and drove up to a viewpoint resort in the hills. It was a beautiful view, but a really scary old precipitous Landrover drive to get there. I got attacked by a leech (and I had an attack of truly girly squeamishness whilst I poked it off with a stick and Dinesh gallantly trod on it) when we arrived, and there was some blood, so it had already started its lunch, the bugger. The view was a bit cloudy, but Hubby checked his super-dooper watch, which is also a barometer (and has several other very important functions, which I forget), and confidently predicted sunshine as the pressure was apparently going up. Shortly after this it started to rain in earnest, so we had lunch indoors with a great view of grey wetness. Oh, and my flip flops broke ( I only had them made a couple of weeks ago, so that was pretty pants), so I gingerly tip toed back to the Landrover afterwards in mortal fear of another leech attack. And then we had the journey back down the perilously slippy mountainside in the rain. 
But apart from that it was a pretty good day out - would do it again...maybe. Actually maybe not.

Wednesday 6 August 2008

I know, it's been a while...power cuts are partly to blame (even though we have lap top and our own generator, the internet gets cut off at the same time) also Hubby seems to have been hogging the computer a bit. But anyway, here I am, fresh from surfing ebay for silver watches - I am hoping to get a cheap one that I can take to a jeweller here and get customised. I have really got sucked into the whole shopping thing, although luckily as kids still on holiday, there are limits to how much I can do. However, I did manage to order a leather skirt today and get some fabulous green satin for making a new evening dress, despite three-way handbrake. As a thank you to the kids for traipsing across town to the leather shop with me (the traffic was so bad that even our fab new car game 'pink umbrella'* got a bit boring) I decided to take them all out for cake and pop at a lush place called Barbarmahal (who I always thought was a cartoon elephant from a kids book, but it turns out is a tourist trap in Kathmandu) Revisited (I'm not sure why it's called Barbarmahal Revisited... revisiting what? Like Brideshead Revisited? never read it, but I do know it has a teddy called Sebastian Flyte in it - my facility for hoovering up trivia is pretty good - think if we ever settle anywhere I should organise pub quizzes in my local, with lots of questions on eighties indie bands and toys from literature). Anyway, it's a lush place with shops and cafes built in the courtyards of an old palace, with some yummy cakes on the menu of one particular place, which I was sure the children would love. So I forked out what in Nepali terms is probably the equivalent of about one weeks wages on a snack for my well-fed and overprivileged offspring, who pushed it round their plates and asked to go home. It was hard not to get irritated (and in fact I did), when there are people here who are genuinely hungry, and the food we eat is wildly extravagant in comparison to the usual local dish of dahl and rice. Next time kids can just have a banana in the car and be grateful!

Oh yes, one of the reasons I haven't written for so long is that we spent one evening preparing our 'go bags' in case there is an earthquake. We now have two rucksacks, which we keep in the hallway at home or they come out in the car with us, just in case. Apparently Nepal has not had a major eathquake since 1934, and as they usually come round every sixty years or so, we are way overdue. So, if we're out on yet another shopping trip  - not to Barbarmahal as I'm not going there again with kids - and the worst happens (massive earthquake, roads and Bagmati Bridge destroyed), we can at least camp in the Landrover until help arrives. Dinesh, our driver, thinks it's hilarious that I insist the bags are in the car whenever we go out, but we'll be the ones laughing (actually, we probably won't, we'll by crying hysterically along with the rest of the citizens of kathmandu) if it actually happens. We have a torch and spare clothes and shoes and a sleeping bag. We have enough food for around two days. It's only baked beans and boiled sweets, but kids will probably love it, beanz and sweetz and no cleaning teeth, hurrah. I'm trying not to think about the whole major earthquake thing too much because it is a big scary old thing, which frankly scares the beejesus out of me. 

* pink umbrella game is: five points for spotting a dog, ten for a cow, fifteen for a goat, twenty for a monkey and five for a pink umbrella. On a trip to a temple last weekend, we split into two teams, and the girls and boys teams both scored one hundred and fifteen points by the time we arrived. Which gives a fairly accurate idea of what the streets in kathmandu are like.   

Thursday 31 July 2008

Pool on camp still closed, so yet another sunny day, and yet another million pounds spent going to hotel pool (the wholemeal ladies had gone, and the pool attendant was back). Son tried very hard to swim, but didn't quite manage it, despite me rather rashly promising an aquarium in his bedroom if he did. Twin 2 wobbled about courting head injuries and giving me a cardiac as usual. 
Later, after lunch and two DVDs, I decided it was time I put the effort into being a good mum and turned the telly off, promising a game of hide-and-seek. I hid, they sought. I took my book with me (The Crow Road by Iain Banks; it's v.good so far) and managed to get through around seventy pages over the course of the afternoon - I'm not that good at hiding (I spent most of the time either behind the sofa or in my own bed), but they are truly pants at seeking. Son eventually gave up and went off to play frisbee over the fence with the kids next door. 

Meena the cook is slightly less lugubrious today, as I have promised her a bread-maker. She even made a joke about me getting fat on her choc chip cookies, which made Hubby laugh rather too heartily for my liking (also this comment is a bit rich coming from her, as she is pretty much a cottage loaf with Tibetan colouring - not sure how she puts any weight on, as she seems to be permanently on a religious fast, which I don't think is a particularly good sign, having a cook who doesn't actually eat). However, she did roll her eyes when I asked her to make us a cup of tea after supper, but reluctantly agreed to do it because it was what 'Saheb' (aka Hubby) wanted. She's taken a shine to 'Saheb' as he's constantly telling her how lovely her cooking is and how rubbish mine is, and laughing at her oh-so-amusing quips about the size of my thighs. The traitor. Nothing is too much trouble for Saheb, but if Memsaheb (me*) wants a cup of tea, or her cook to make bread it's all suddenly a little bit difficult. Anyway, I've just ordered a massive amount of bread-mix, and someone is lending me their bread-maker (ironically it's the family Meena's husband cooks for - he refuses to use a bread maker as he prides himself in making his own bread, pasta, and choux pastry. Oh yes. Shame he can't give his wife a few cooking tips...), so hopefully there'll be a bit less of the eye-rolling pathos soon.

*Yes, I am a memsaheb. Yes it is a colonial hangover. No, I don't feel especially guilty about it, but not sure whether I should?

Wednesday 30 July 2008

found my mojo!

Found my mojo! There it was, in a reflexology and shiatsu place next to a trendy Japanese cafe. I also found a jolly nice green and blue glass necklace thingy in the shop above the cafe. So gin and brownies no longer required. 
The pool has been closed for the last three days, which means the weather has been fabulous. The pool opens again tomorrow, so I am confidently expecting a good old monsoon downpour all day. 
We've had to drive to a nearby hotel for the last three days and pay pots of cash to swim there. It's the same hotel where I had the grumpy beauty treatments the other week, so I've been half-expecting the toad woman to be lurking poolside, but luckily haven't caught sight of her so far. 
They had an organic food fair next to the pool today, so the place was surrounded by wholemeal looking women munching earnestly on gritty buns. And it was the lifeguard's day off. I mentioned to the receptionist that I was going to the pool with three non-swimmers, but nobody seemed too concerned. I suppose if we got into trouble someone could just toss in an organic muffin for us to use an improvised buoyancy aid. Or alternatively the toad woman could whip out of the beauty parlour and flick out her fly-catching tongue to rescue my drowning offspring. Luckily we were all ok, so neither cake nor tongue had to be employed on this occasion.
Went into camp this afternoon so kids could be suitably impressed when Hubby showed them the concrete pour on part of 'his' new water treatment works. They managed to look interested for at least thirty seconds, and then we all went to the canteen to get crisps and pop and then went to watch the some other soldiers playing basketball (the latter was entirely their idea and had nothing whatsoever to do with me wanting to brighten up my day by watching fit men in shorts).

Monday 28 July 2008

I am better now, although seem to have temporarily mislaid my mojo...perhaps I left it in the ladies at Kilroy's restaurant on Friday night. There was a plaque in the loo dedicating the toilet to a Mrs Susan McGraw. It was very much like the plaques you see on wooden benches at sights of scenic interest, you know, "For Grandad, who so liked to sit here on summer evenings," etc. Except that it was in a toilet in Kathmandu. The sign didn't elaborate much, it just said it was for Susan. Personally, I would have liked a bit more detail, eg "For Susan, who used to come here to escape tedious chit chat of her husband's boring work mates", or maybe "For Susan, who so suffered from irritable bowel syndrome" or perhaps "For dear Susan, who enjoyed our curries a little too much.". Did she donate money so that the restaurant could provide customers with a proper sit-down lavvie, rather than the local squat down ones? Bless her heart if she did. But could it be that it is really more of a memorial, and that she passed away whilst passing wind. I hope not. It's a big mystery. As much of a mystery as my missing mojo. I have just looked for it in a chocolate brownie (which was a bit soggy and undercooked, but I don't have the heart to mention it to Meena, as my demands of homemade bread are apparently playing havoc with her arthritis, and I don't want to tip her over the edge) but it wasn't there, so I think I may try looking at the bottom of a glass of gin and tonic. Will let you know if I have any luck xxx

Tuesday 22 July 2008

Have got the lurgy. Luckily not the same one as the girls. Hubby thought I was being a wimp yesterday when I elected not to go to circuits (have done no exercise for more than two months now and given Meena a recipe for chocolate brownies, so whole thing is beginning to take its toll on my considerably-more-than-ample thighs) as I was feeling a bit dizzy. But today I have been utterly spaced out and useless, well, more so than usual. Even hoovering up four chocolate brownies hasn't made me feel much better. Hope this doesn't last as it is seriously interfering with shopping/swimming/finding nice cafes etc. Have to go and lie down now as room is swimming (and not though gin consumption)...

Monday 21 July 2008

The weather is always great on a Monday. Because the pool is closed for cleaning. I guarantee it will piddle it down tomorrow when the pool is open again. Still, we managed to fill the day with a very exciting trip to the British Embassy in the morning (they have a climbing frame and swings, woo hoo!) and the girls managed to prevent monsoon lassitude from settling in by both getting runny tummies (I can't spell diohrea) this afternoon. Also escaped for a shopping trip this afternoon, sans kids, to a big department store on the other side of town called Babatinis. It's chock-full of all the things that we were told you couldn't get in Nepal. Like shoes in my size or Strepsils or, well, pretty much anything really. I was under the impression that we'd be roughing it out here, but I think whoever advised us clearly hadn't made it across town to Babatinis. 
The only thing I can't seem to find is swim nappies. Which I think I might need with some urgency, or the pool will have to be closed for cleaning on an even more regular basis!

Sunday 20 July 2008

Couldn't pass up the chance for a bit of pampering last Thursday, when I was invited to go to the Summit Hotel with a couple of other wives for some beauty treatments. Hurrah, I thought, as I parked the kids in front of Lady and the Tramp with our lovely and long-suffering housekeeper/childminder (they call them 'diddy' out here, which sort of means aunty, although I have to say that Sanu is a darn sight more helpful and patient than any aunty I know of) and zoomed - well, chugged at least - off in the Landrover. 
In just a few short (and bumpy) minutes we were at the hotel - white, tree-fringed and pretty sumptuous looking. I waved a cheery goodbye to our driver, Dinesh, telling him not to come back for two hours (two whole child-free hours of delicious pampering; the anticipation was scrumptious...).
So, to say the whole thing was anticlimatic is somewhat of an understatement.
We arrived at the 'salon', a small cave-like room squished into the back of the hotel like an afterthought, to be greeted (and I use this term loosely) by a toad of a woman, who looked simultaneously bored and impatient with us. I later realised that these were her only two expressions, so by using them both on us upon our arrival, she was actually putting a bit of effort in. Her scared-looking minions cowered in the murky interior. 
I had booked in for an Indian head massage, manicure and blow dry. The other two wives had manicures, pedicures and facials booked. Toad woman dispatched her staff and they scuttled around doing beauty treatments in the fasted, least relaxed way I have ever experienced. The expression on Toad woman's face almost made you want to apologise for taking up so much of her valuable amphibian time. Time that presumably she thought would be better spent squatting under a nice muddy rock or something. Anyway, the head massage itself was ok, and the manicure passable, but the blow dry is quite possibly the worst I have ever had. A blind six-year old could do a better job. I was told afterwards that this was because I had the misfortune of having Toady herself do the blow dry, rather than one of her underlings, and she is notoriously rubbish (despite owning the place) at all things beauty or hair related. Half way though the blow dry she took a phone call and left someone else holding the dryer over one patch of hair for about ten minutes or so. It got so hot that I was worried I would spontaneously combust. Finally she got off the phone and in a hurried and disinterested way, finished off. 
Do you remember that cartoon from the 1970s called 'the hair bear bunch'? Well, that's what I looked like. Either that or the progeny of medusa and captain caveman.
I said, no, this is too frizzy, it won't do.
She half-heartedly slapped a bit of serum on and brushed it through.
No, said, it's all frizzy, look.
So she shoved a load of curlers in and lumped me in the corner under the dryer for half an hour.
Not once was offered a drink, a magazine - or even a smile.
Ooh, said the other wives as we left, all that for less than a tenner, it's definitely worth coming back, and tipped Toady handsomely (she'll be dining well on flies for the next few weeks with the amount they slipped into her slimy palms).
No, no, I thought, being bored, uncomfortable and made to feel utterly unwelcome is so not worth a tenner, and certainly not worth two hours of my life.
Wish I had stayed in and watched a DVD with the kids instead.