hot tubs and a mongolian princess

Internet is on again. Can hardly believe it. Am going to type really quickly to try to get this post in. Ooh, now the pressure's on to think of something to write. 

Spent most of this morning writing torrid love scenes, which got me to thinking that Hubby looks like Ethan Hawke, and almost made us miss Twins' class assembly after lunch (the theme was 'the very hungry caterpillar' and they were plum 1 and strawberry 4, respectively, to whoops and thunderous applause from the audience). Anyway, made me realise I should never attempt a Mills & Boon book, as the lengthy lunch hours would cause havoc on Hubby's work...

Tomorrow the Twins are going to a birthday party, and the party girls parents are apparently a mongolian princess and a belgian count, respectively. Should be interesting. I knew the dad had to be something. He wears knee britches and shoes with big silver buckles on, a bit like a picture of a puritan from a Ladybird history book. So I was fairly sure he wasn't with the army or DfID, like all the other parents. I had no idea he was a count, though, until after school today. So that should be interesting. I'm just excited to see what the party food will be - probably not sausages on  sticks, maybe lobster or caviar?  

Whilst we are at the royal party, Son is taking Hubby to the zoo to see the vultures. He likes vultures. 

And then in the evening I have been invited on a girls'  night with the missionary ladies to the Japanese baths, which should also be an experience. We will all be without our pirate costumes, but perhaps there will be some opportunity for talking in a deep Devonian accent whilst eating sushi in the hot tub. I guess it depends how much saki we drink.

Anyway, will quickly get this on before internet disappears again. 

Take care x

Once in a blue moon

I've been getting blog withdrawal. The blooming internet never seems to be on any more, and even when it is, it's so slow that you can't actually do anything. I think it's something to do with the phenomenal amount of power cuts we're having at the moment. I have been trying to write for ages. Anyway, here I am again.

Hello.

Right. So, haven't seen any tigers this week. I have lost a whole pound of xmas chocolate flab, though,  through lots of very boring treadmill time in the gym. 

Good job too: I went to a shop to get some jeans copied the other day and took a pair of old and much-loved jeans that are now a tad too small and ripped on the knees. I had the following conversation with the attractive young nepali chap behind the desk:

me (holding up old jeans): I'd like to have these copied please, but they are a bit small.

him (frankly looking at the jeans and then sizing up my arse): a bit small?

So I told him with a cheery smile that I'd be back in again in a few weeks to make a smaller pair once I'd spent a bit of time in the gym. He looked unconvinced.

I'm committed though. After all, come April the pool will be open again, which is a scarily short amount of time to get back into bikini shape. Or any kind of shape, really. I have already tasked Sunil-the-tailor with making me three linen dresses, in the knowledge that any task takes him about a season to complete (we are still waiting for a pair of trousers for Hubby that were ordered in November), so fingers crossed he'll come good by late Spring - if he has not been abducted to Betelgeuse yet again - and my summer wardrobe will be sorted, if not my summer physique.

I keep thinking of more stuff to tell you about but I'm worried the internet connection will pack up again and I won't be able to post this, so I'll just say one more quick thing.

We had our Burns night thing last week. I left early and sort-of sober (as sober as you can be after five whiskys). Hubby stayed later, and has only the vaguest recollections of being spanked with a pair of red stilettoes in the middle of the gay gordon, and mooning the deputy chief-of-staff (a very nice woman who talks a bit like the Queen).

He has now vowed to give up whisky (at least until next Burns night)...

we saw a tiger!

It was Ethan Hawke, but only for long enough for me to cancel my evening plans, after which Ethan quickly morphed into Mainwaring, glowering impatiently from behind the computer, which he has hogged pretty much ever since. Which is partly my reason for not being in touch earlier, but also the internet connection has been truly appalling and we've been away on an elephant safari too. Anyway, kids are back at school now, Hubby is in Pokhara (I don't think he's with the dancing dwarfs, as I think they are on strike at the moment, along with the bar dancers, but he is with his work colleague, who I think is shorter, and given Hubby's own - erm - I don't want to say diminutive - but there you go I just have - stature means that if they could both be persuaded to do a bit of a jig, there would at least be a couple of  'dancing dwarfs' in pokhara tonight. Sorry chaps, if you're reading this, only kidding - you are small and mighty, like marmite or dettol or something perhaps a bit more flattering that I can't actually think of right now), and the internet is on, so I'm back online again, hurrah.

Anyway, I have to tell you that I saw a tiger on my elephant safari, which apparently never happens, as people keep telling me. Well I did. And Hubby's Best Mate has a small blurred brown blob in a photograph to prove it. And Twin 2, who was also on the elephant with myself and Best Mate, says its true, and she never lies (except when you ask her if she's done a poo in her pants, or eaten all the chocolates out of her brother's advent calendar).

However, as it was only me, Best Mate and the reliable-eyewitness that is Twin 2, who actually saw the tiger (and actually there could be some confusion over the size of the cat: it could have been a big one, a long way away, or quite possibly a small one very close - hard to tell from the top of an elephant - maybe there was a local nearby clinking a teaspoon on a saucer and calling, come on Tibbles, time for your Kit-e-Kat), we all had to go to the zoo on Sunday to get a proper look at one. Hubby spent a very long time taking photos, which he has promised to cunningly insert into our camcorder footage of the safari to make it look as if we all saw a really big, gleaming tiger, when in fact we mostly saw leaves and occasionally the elephant in front doing a poo - which when you're a three-year-old girl or a six-year-old boy is a pretty thrilling spectacle, you know, and not to be sniffed at (no, really, not to be sniffed at).

Sorry, enough of the crap jokes (oops, did it again). Time to go.

Ethan Hawke or Basil Fawlty?

Well, I have resorted to cooking brandy and Nytol, since you ask. Anyway, Hubby is back with his mate tomorrow, so I won't need to self-medicate in order to fall asleep, hopefully. 

Actually I have been invited on a girls night out, and I'm having a bit of a dilemma about it. Hubby has been away for a week now, and in situations like this I always get all soppy and remember how much I love him (especially last night when I watched 'Before Sunset' again - Ethan Hawke always reminds me of him. Yes, I know it's probably only me who sees that. Also Kevin Bacon, but I haven's seen a film with him in for years. Mind you I haven't actually seen a movie for years. I suppose he has done something since Apollo 13, but it would be news to me). Anyway, I'm blathering on here. The point is, it should be a good night out, but I have missed my husband. However, when he gets home, he will probably only get grumpy about Twin 2 doing a poo in her pants or the lack of water/diesel/toilet roll in the house, and I'll just want to escape anyway... so I've told them to keep me pencilled in, until I see who turns up at the house: if it's Kevin Bacon or Ethan Hawke then I'm staying put, but if it's Captain Mainwaring or Basil Fawlty, then I'll be in my leather skirt and heels before you can say 'G&T please'.

We have run out of Amarula. Not that I particularly like Amarula, but it was the only decent booze left in the house. Tomorrow I shall have a dilemma over cooking brandy or Pimms (without lemonade). If only I hadn't given away that half bottle of coffee liqueur to the missionaries at the pirate party on New year's Eve...

Would it be shabby to ask for it back? 

How gaily I handed it over, saying, no, no, just keep it, we never drink at home. 

Which was a lie: Hubby never drinks at home (unless one of his scarce mates is around), but I blooming well do. Especially when he is away. It's been the only thing to look forward to these last few days, a big tot of Amarula and an episode of 'Still Game' (if you have never watched this scottish sitcom, then you really should). 

Incidentally, the pirate party was another one of those ones that I agreed to and Hubby said he wasn't going to bloody go to that. I got quite into it - growing up in Devon and working in local pubs gives you a headstart so far as pirate accents are concerned, as they all sound like forty-a-day-smokers-from-Moretonhampstead or thereabouts. The only thing was, it was thrown by a group of missionaries. They are lovely. Really nice people. But not big drinkers. Or big on double entendre type jokes (of which there were many opportunities for in the pirate murder mystery script we were following). Also, we all had young children, so by ten o'clock, everyone was flagging a bit. Still, I did have a nice time, and miraculously no hangover whatsoever - which was a good thing. 

And New Year's Eve at a missionaries' pirate party certainly scores higher than Christmas Day with the Dutch mushroom farmers' heavy metal pool party, which was how I spent 25th December back in Cape Town in 1994 - Hubby managed to miss that one, too.

Happy New Year!

Sorry, sorry, sorry. Xmas hols and all that. We have all had colds, Hubby has also had a tummy bug thingy, and we've had water shortage, and Twin 2 is taking a depressingly long time to grasp the concept of poo-ing in a potty. So it has been a difficult Christmas, in some respects.

For example, on the morning of Christmas Eve, I was woken up at around six in the morning by Son telling me that Twin 2 had a poo in her pajamas, Twin 1 was on the toilet and needing her bottom wiped and that his first tooth had fallen out and he couldn't find it (it was eventually found on the bathroom floor, and after being soaked in Dettol for a bit, I'm sure the Tooth Fairy was none the wiser about its eventful journey from mouth to pillow). That incident kind of set the tone for the rest of the week really. It's not that it was a horrible Christmas, just a bit smelly. Especially with the water shortage (we get our water delivered and there was a problem at the delivery place, which meant we had no water delivered for a week, during which time we were eking out the water we had in the tank, which meant no baths for the kids and no hairwash for me. It felt like we were squatters in our own house, somehow.)

Anyway, the water is back, now. And Hubby has gone off on a trek with his mate, leaving me with the kids to entertain for a whole week. I know I should be doing lots of crafts and baking homemade muffins and so forth, but at the moment they are all parked in front of a Barbie DVD and I'm not feeling the slightest bit guilty. Furthermore, when Hubby and Best Mate get back from their trek, I'm going to book myself a half-day spa package. And I might even fit in another little trip to the cashmere shop, too.

Happy New Year!