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