spooky palooki, it's Halloweeeeeen

Hello, thought I'd better get a quick one in tonight, as I haven't blogged much in October. It has been a busy old weekend here in Kathmandu. Well, busy for a small group of expats with children under the age of ten, anyway. Why? It's only spooky old Halloweeeeeeen, that's why. And what's more, there are lots of Americans and Canadians who are mad for it. I have just got back from my fourth spooky event in the space of forty-eight hours. It would have been five, but for the functions clash on Saturday night (just had to drop that one in as it makes me sound popular - I'm not, actually, but I think my children might be, so I'll just bask in their popularity a bit). So, Friday night was a Halloween birthday party, for Twins' friend, then Saturday afternoon was Halloween at the Gurkha camp, then Saturday evening was Halloween at the American club, then tonight was trick or treating for a select group of children around Patan. It was, however, a strangely Kathmandu-expat style trick or treat, whereby the children were ferried around to a handful of houses in Landrovers. Effectively I did various versions of the school run for two hours, whilst four small girls stuffed themselves with sweets on the back seat. Still, they seemed to enjoy it. They enjoyed it a lot more than Hubby enjoyed the Oktoberfest function in the mess on Friday, anyway. Can't think why he wasn't keen in dressing up in fake lederhosen and drinking fake German lager whilst talking to the same people he works with all week? I had one large bottle of beer on an empty stomach, and it didn't bother me at all...

Yikes it's ten to ten and I still haven't sorted out the lunch boxes. TTFN x

back to school

I've stopped being in a bad mood. This is a good thing. However, I'm still not going back to scary Bollywood classes, and you can't make me. I have largely left the whole PE-phobia thing behind me these days, mainly by avoiding all team sports. Someone asked me to join in the BGN swimming competition, and also some volleyball match, the other day. I think I must look sporty somehow, possibly because people see me in my gym kit in the mornings - but spending half an hour on the rowing machine after I drop the kids off at the school bus does not magically give me co-ordination, competitiveness or something else beginning with 'c' that I can't think of right now. Next time people are casting about for an extra team member I'll tell them to call the Bollywood teacher, who is clearly a task-orientated and competitive person, and what's more, enjoys a bit of shouting.

Started writing novel again today. Actually I spent most of the morning re-reading what I'd written before the hols, to remind myself of what the book is about. However, I did manage to do a couple of scenes, dialogue only. Interesting - Aunty Shirley and Kathleen definitely have some sort of secret that they are hiding from Zoe. Unfortunately they are also hiding it from me. I haven't decided whether to turn them into the kind of women who'd hire contract killers for errant husbands or not. They will probably decide for themselves by the time I get to that point in the book.

Kids are back at school now, but only for a week-and-a-half, and then they get a long weekend for Tihar (otherwise known as Diwali), and then it's only about a month until the xmas hols, the little blighters.

I'm hoping that over the Tihar weekend we can get away to Pauline's Guest House. I've just emailed Pauline, so waiting to hear. It's a little tiny place just outside Kathmandu, and the woman who runs it is the sister of the cheese-and-sausage man (he's French, and pretty tasty, by Kathmandu standards - although I have only met him once, but he was good-looking enough to make me spend a small fortune on fromage and charcuterie - or do I mean saucisse? hmm, probably) so there's lots of tasty food on offer. Not a huge amount for the kids to do, but I suspect they will just roll around playing 'Dr Who' or 'Star Wars' wherever they are (Dr Who is preferred option because there are better female characters. I know Star Wars has Princess Lea, and Padme, but who wants to be Padme? She's about the most tedious fictitious character ever created).

I was going to tell you some wierd camp gossip (gossip from the army camp, not gossip involving Larry Grayson - is that how you spell his surname?), but I'm not sure if I should. Probably not. It's not a good thing, but when you hear something downright odd, it's a bit hard to keep it to yourself. For example, if you were leaving somewhere, and somebody was organising a leaving lunch for you, and they happened to put a picture of a sad-looking dog on the poster advertising the lunch, would you think:

a) the person organising the lunch has a kind heart and a soft spot for animals; or

b) the person organising the lunch has questionable taste and no graphic design skills; or

c) the person organising the lunch is implying that I'm a dog and I therefore shall not go to my own leaving lunch.

If it were me, I guess I'd think 'a' and secretly a bit of 'b' too. However, there are some - who shall of course remain nameless - who would think 'c' and therefore boycott their own leaving do. Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't 'c' just a teensy weensy bit paranoid?

Blimey, it's five minutes to bedtime already, and I will be awake at six, whether I like it or not, so I'm off now.

Toodle pip x

fat, shouty and welsh

Still in bad mood, largely because Bollywood teacher got grumpy with the class tonight for not learning the moves quickly enough, and I felt like I was back in a PE class at school. I shall not be going back to Bollywood, because I do not wish to start having flashbacks about fat shouty welsh PE teachers and muddy hockey pitches in the rain, thanks very much. I will start ranting if I carry on, so I'm off to bed. But I will write properly tomorrow (hopefully I shall be in a better mood then and see the funny side, rather than the fat shouty welsh side, of Bollywood).

Hi, I'm in a bad mood, so this will be a short post. Anyway, I'll cheer up when we're up at lovely Kakani this weekend, and seeing the lovely mountains (hopefully all the leeches have gone, but it did rain the other night so we might be unlucky. Have to go and find very important Hello Kitty socks now....

misery

Quite a strange bed time. We had just heard that the grandparents' dog died a few days ago, so all the kids were a bit upset. I decided to read them all a bedtime story, a happy one, to cheer everyone up, and let the Twins have a sleepover in Son's room. There was a book of stories in Son's room, and one of them was called 'The Happy Prince'. You would have thought that would be a happy story, wouldn't you? But no, you'd be wrong. 'The Happy Prince' would be better named 'The dead swallow who should have flown off to Egypt with his mates when he had the chance'. I'm sorry, but tweeting about in Heaven at the end, doesn't make for a happy ending, not when the poor old dead bird was lying on a rubbish heap in the middle of winter in some unspecified northern european town. So everyone went to sleep almost as gloomy as before, and I have vowed never to read another kids' story with 'happy' in the title.

Talking of gloom, I can hear wailing and shouting coming from the compound. Quite glad Hubby isn't here, as he always gets upset at the sound of other people's domestic issues, and wanders around muttering darkly about how he'd like to sack the lot of them. Luckily I usually persuade him not to, by reminding him that if Sanu and Meena get the sack, we will have to do our own washing up. And ironing. And washing. And hoovering. And cooking. And blooming everything.

The dogs have all started to howl as well, as if in sympathy for Sanu's misery.

Anyway, at least sandwiched in between the dead dog, dead bird and domestic's domestic, I have had a pretty productive evening. I've pitched another idea to the Sunday Times (they'll probably say no, but what the hey), talked to the army press office about getting clearance for researching my new novel (they are sending me a form to fill in), got the okay from Nottingham Uni to apply for creative writing MA and eaten several tasty chocolate biscuits.

Oh no, Sanu is still crying, loudly. And her husband seems to be talking very reasonably. It's definitely not domestic abuse (in which case I'd have to do something).

Ok, it turns out that her husband has been unfaithful, and she's drunk and angry with him. I intervened in the end. I feel desperately sorry for her, but I'm not going to have drunken shouting in my back yard at ten thirty at night. Her husband has gone. I'll offer her the day off tomorrow.

off radar

Sorry I have been off radar. It's because we've been on our hols in Dubai (woo hoo). Dubai is the strangest place I have ever been (with the possible exception of a certain toilet in Pokhara). It's like something out of Star Wars - all glass and steel skyscrapers and blinding sunlight. I half expected the taxis to take off and whizz us through the air to our destination. Everything there is new, and works, and there's no rubbish and no street dogs and, apparently, no crime (according to our taxi driver this is because anyone who does anything remotely bad gets kicked out of the country - and they can do this because it's a kingdom where about eighty five per cent of the population are expatriates, so baddies just get sent home. A bit like Botany Bay in reverse?) Anyway, if you fancy going somewhere that's magnificently soulless, and you don't care about anything being traditional, historic, or even local, then Dubai is the place for you. Great for kids, who in my experience would rather go to a water park than a museum any day.

I have to go and get bedtime-strict with the kids now, so I'll write more later...

fantastic friday

I have had a right old expat wife day today, and I just want to record it for future reference because I know that one day, in the not too distant future, this lovely life will be taken away from me, and I'll be back in the land of cold rain, washing up and, well, just having to do everything myself.

So, today I dropped the kids off on the school bus and then went for a nice swim in the solar-heated outdoor pool on camp. I was the only person in the swimming pool and I swam fifty lengths (not as impressive as it sounds because the pool is quite short, and I swim pretty slowly). Then my friend texted me to say she'd managed to book me in with her for a Japanese massage, so I said a brief good morning to the housekeeper and trotted off to the massage place. Two diminutive-but-surprisingly-strong Japanese chaps walked up and down me (I was wearing pajamas) for an hour and a half, and then my friend and I went for a drink at a nearby cafe-cum-bookshop. By this time it was almost midday, and we had to rush to school to pick up our children, because it's now the Deshain holidays, and they always break up early on the last day of term. We have six children between us, my friend and I, so the state of deep relaxation induced by the massage was undone slightly by walking back to her house along the pot-holed roads with all the horrible beeping cars and speeding bikes (pavements are a rarity out here), and lunch with all six was a bit of a bun fight (literally). However, then they all went off and played really nicely with Lego and dressing up clothes etc. and my nice friend shared her last six squares of ever-so-precious Green&Black's chocolate with me, bless her (you can't really buy decent chocolate in Nepal) and we had long chat, interspersed only occasionally by Twin 2 wanting to do Cinderella/Snow White/Katy Perry shows or needing her bottom wiped. By half past four we decided to quit whilst we were ahead, and for me to take my kids home before they all stopped playing nicely, so my family wandered off to find a taxi. What a coincidence that our taxi hunting trip took us right past the pashmina shop, which happened to have a pashmina in the exact shade I fancied for this winter (it's called 'pigeon'). Well, hey, I needed the change for the taxi ride home anyhow. And I have almost sold my thing to the Sunday Times. And...well, I'm just a bit of a sucker for cashmere, actually.

By the time we got home, the house was clean, the washing was all ironed and put away, and Meena had prepared some of her super-tasty meatballs for supper.

Hubby came home in a bad mood because I'd forgotten to tell him that the car needed fuel, so I had to apologise a lot, but other than that - pretty good day, hey?

How will I cope when this life is snatched from me and I'm thrust back into the clutches of recessional UK?

Doesn't bear thinking about! xxx

partners' club, woo hoo!

Life is just one big thrill after another...this morning I went to the partners' club meeting (two months running now - a personal record). It wasn't that I especially wanted to go (generally speaking I would rather stick pins in my eyes), but I had promised the nice Brazilian lady who lives down the road that she could come in and sell her necklaces, and I had to host her.

It was the usual exciting stuff. The thing is, I know that there's some major bit of gossip going on, and although I try not to get involved in all the internal politics of camp and the partners' club, I would secretly like to know. I guess I'll find out six months after everyone else, as usual. I was trying to look at people's body language to find out who has fallen out with whom, but I'm a bit thick at that sort of thing. Has the Gurkha Major's wife fallen out with the Chief-of-staff's wife? Does the RSM's wife have an issue with the community nurse's husband? Have I comitted some heinous faux pas myself, and is everybody upset with me? I will probably never know...Hubby will say that this is a good thing, and that we shouldn't concern ourselves with petty rivalry and bitchiness. He may be right, but I do wish I had a reliable source to tell me what's really going on!

At the meeting we had a briefing from the ASU people.( I don't actually know what ASU stands for, but army types do love their acronyms - assorted stripey underpants perhaps?) Anyhow, the ASU are the people in charge of army furniture, etc. There was almost a riot when one wife put up her hand and asked when her dishwasher could be plumbed in. Dishwasher? Since when did the army start issuing dishwashers? None of the rest of us have dishwashers! And was it just because she was the OC's wife and got preferential treatment?! The rumblings were reaching volcanic proportions when it transpired that it was in fact her own dishwasher that she had had shipped over from the UK. Moreover, the ASU were refusing to plumb it in because dishwashers consume far too much water, and as there's a perennial water shortage here it's just not allowed. Phew! Everyone seemed happy at last (apart from the poor woman who's brought her dishwasher thousands of miles only to be told she can't use it and will have to use the kitchen sink like everyone else).

The topic then moved on to gas pressure in cookers, and whether we should be replacing all the light bulbs with energy efficient ones or waiting until the old non-efficient ones burn out. It all got a bit heated (unlike the cookers, apparently).

I'm still pretty happy with the marble-floored mansion in which we live, and I don't really care too much about ovens and dishwashers as we have a cook. Oh well, sometimes people like nothing better than a cup of coffee and a good old moan, I suppose.

At least my nice Brazilian neighbour was happy because she sold lots of necklaces (I bought one myself in fact - anything to detract from the kerfuffle about dishwashers, light bulbs and cookers).

I may not attend the next meeting. However, I've heard that the silversmith might have a stall, so I could be persuaded...

xxx

fraud

Just had scary message from bank's fraud section. They have blocked my visa card, and I haven't been able to buy the next series of Entourage from Amazon, boo. What I was really worried about was that someone might have drained our account and we wouldn't be able to go on holiday to Dubai (we really need to go now - Hubby is starting to look and sound like an over-filled pressure cooker, so we have to leave the country before he explodes)...however, it turns out that when I bought Son's 'Dr Who's Journal of impossible things' on Paypal and added and extra £1 donation to the Pakistan flood appeal, the £1 Paypal payent triggered off investigation by the bank's fraud office. It's great that they're vigilant, but blocking my visa card for the sake of one quid seems a tad over zealous. However, good to know that they're on the ball, and we can still go on our hols.

Really really tired today as Twin 1 (now much better, thanks) was in my room at about 4.30 this morning complaining about what was clearly a Dr Who-inspired nightmare. I think I might have to instigate a Disney Princesses only viewing schedule for the next few days, to ensure I get a full night's sleep (which I really need, after my Bollywood class). Think I might go and rest my eyes a bit before the school pickup xx

Next Great Novel postponed

NGN is on pause yet again. This week it's Twin 1's turn to be ill on a Monday. Diarhoea and fever (I'm sure that is how you spell diarrhoea? maybe not! Always a problem, and I resort to saying 'tummy bug' which just sounds wussy, don't you think?).

Not only have I not done any writing today, I also had a slightly depressing email from a friend-of-a-friend who was going to give me details of what it's like to be a woman bomb disposal officer. But guess what? She can't talk to me until she's cleared it with the MoD. Even though I'm writing fiction that in all probability will never get published. Anyway, I'm just too despondent to phone the MoD man tonight, so I decided to write to you instead.

Since I last wrote we've had an exciting Deshain function at Hubby's work. The best bit about it was that I didn't have to dance this year, and I got to wear my nice new dress and pretend to be someone who has a town house in Islington and a country house in Cornwall, and maybe is a successful novelist (which is what the dress makes me feel I should be, instead of which I'm wiping bottoms in Kathmandu and not writing anything at all).

Well, at least tomorrow I've got my Bollywood class to look forward to!

Take care xxx

Friday and time for some wine

Hello chaps, sorry it's been a while. This has been because I bought series 5 of Entourage, which Hubby particularly likes. So between Dr Who/Disney Princess after school and Entourage after kids' bedtime, the laptop has been in use. Oh, I know I could do something during the day when kids are at school, but I'm trying to be disciplined and spend that time writing the next great novel (or tending to ill children, or picking up my new dress, or going to book club - or this morning, selling cakes at the Big Brew cake stall, which I couldn't get out of because it was All For A Good Cause).

The Next Great Novel, or NGN as I shall now refer to it, is moving along quite slowly. At least our heroine is finally onto plot point one, and on the plane to Nepal. However, there are a few scenes missing in her first Act - about twenty pages of them - so I'll have to go back and fill the holes later. Interestingly, it turns out she has an evil godmother (I didn't plan her, she just popped up), quite the reverse of the Cinderella version, whose job seems to be to try to scupper everything for our heroine. She's in her seventies (the evil godmother, not the heroine), and she smokes cocktail cigarettes and wears too much lipstick. Worryingly, she's sort-of how I see myself at that age, like an elderly alter ego.

Anyway, today I have been far too busy to write anything because, as I mentioned, it was Big Brew (raising money for forces charity) day on the British Camp, and in addition, just to ramp up the adrenaline levels, International Day at the British School. Ooh, I thought the kids would explode with the excitement of it all. They got to wear Union Jack clothes to school, run about buying food from International food stalls after school, and then go to camp and run about some more buying hideous cuddly toys and demanding fizzy pop. And to top it off, I couldn't drive home on the normal way, as there are suddenly huge holes in the road (nothing as helpful as a road sign warning of this, though, just a sudden crater, marked with a spindly branch stuck in the hole - because a few leaves really is equivalent in safety terms to cones, fluorescent tape and a several men-at-work signs, wouldn't you say?).

Quite tired after a day of charity and cultural awareness - might even have a glass of wine in a bit...Hubby is already in bed. He went to bed at the same time as Son (before 8pm). This is because he stayed up very late last night playing geekily with his new mind-mapping software on his mobile phone (did you know, you can print it out - how exciting is that?), and then the neighbourhood dogs apparently barked all night. I say apparently, because I didn't hear them. I was asleep, having happy dreams.

My great excitement this week was having a jersey dress made up locally (sorry, yes I am that superficial - I may read Nobel Peace Prizewinner's autobiographies, but nothing really matches the thrill of a nice new outfit). It wasn't massively cheap, but it looks like its just popped off the pages of a Boden catalogue, and at less than half the price, hurrah. I shall wear it to Hubby's work's Deshain function tomorrow. Thank the Lord they haven't asked me to dance again this year, so I won't end up dressed like Danny-La-Rue-goes-to-the-Himalayas. I shall instead probably look like someone called Charlotte from Islington, or Poppy from Truro or something (I won't look like me, because as my NGN has shown, the real me is a mix of Cruela deVil and hmmm, shall we say, Anthea Turner).

Right, I'm off to find that bottle of wine now xxx