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

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

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...

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!

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

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...

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.

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