So, the usual Internet problems here. We’ve just switched to a provider who promised super fast broadband, but it’s pants. Hubby says it’s typical, rubbish service because ‘the whole country is falling apart’, which sounds overly cynical, but is in fact true. There was even a leader in the Economist about it last week. Apparently the country is on the brink of yet-another (or rather, the same old) crisis. The choice seems to be between coaxing the (pro Chinese, natch) Maoists back into the peace process or letting the (pro Indian) army hold sway – although as I’m not a Nepali, this isn’t a choice for me, of course. The Maoists are getting increasingly restive – there were three days of bandhs before Christmas, but we missed it all as we were sunning ourselves on the beach in Thailand. Quite nice to escape political unrest and freezing cold marble floors for a few days (and this time Twin 2 managed not to vomit on the plane, so that was good). We were home in time for Christmas, and thankfully Father Christmas was not in the least confused by our lack of chimney (probably rather grateful to just have an open door and a set of stairs to contend with). He didn’t bring absolutely everything the kids wanted, unfortunately. In fact Hubby told me that Twin 1 was in tears at 5am Christmas day, because her stocking presents were rubbish. But I put this down more to being woken up at 4.45 Christmas day by her brother and sister. Blimey, I’d be in tears if I was woken up at 4.45 am and forced to wear Disney Princess lip gloss and eat chocolate coins.
We opened the rest of the presents much later in the day, and there were no tears, although I did have a minor anxiety attack when I opened my one from Hubby. It’s a new mobile phone. But you can also use it as an MP3 player, cam corder, GPS, and camera. I think if you press the right button it will also massage your feet and pour a large G&T. Which is fab, really it is. But it does entail me actually reading and digesting the instruction manual, and I am Mrs Luddite, so it’s all, well, just a little bit scary. Poor Hubby is trying to resist the urge to wrest it from me and take it away for some geeky tinkering. You know how they say that the best presents are the ones you want to keep yourselves? This Christmas present is certainly an example of just that. However, I’m not letting him have it because I have just trained it to recognise my handwriting, and I’m not going back to using horrible pokey text messaging ever again. No siree, Bob.
Anyway, it’s all over now. I polished off the last of the chicken and Hubby had the remains of the xmas pud for supper tonight (the kids had cheese and biscuits in front of the Lion King: there are now biscuit crumbs all over the floor where they were roaring in sympathy with whatever was going on, on screen, and bits of half-eaten cracker fell out of their mouths - delightful).
So, we’ve had a beach holiday, and the thrills of Christmas Day, and now there’s only a mere three weeks to go until the children go back to school (I curse the British School and its generous holiday entitlement: why can’t they just get a poxy two weeks, like all the kids in the UK? I mean it is supposed to be a British School, so should that Britishness not also extend to meagre holidays? It should, surely?)
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