Meant to say, good news that Nepal has evaded anarchy by a whisker. The deadline for agreeing the constitution was midnight on friday; apparently at 11.45 they agreed to extending the deadline by a year, so long as the PM (Mr Nepal) resigned, which he did. There's been the odd roadside bomb since, but luckily no large-scale uprising, which is good, no?

catholic night in

This evening I'm having a taste of what it's like to be a good catholic...I have six kids asleep upstairs, between the ages of four and eight. It's gone 9pm now, and it's nice and quiet, so I think it's safe to pour my second G&T and maybe raid the chocolate coated strawberries and put on a DVD that Hubby wouldn't want to watch (last night I watched Coco before Chanel, which should have been good, and it was, but the really dreadful subtitles were off-putting, to say the least. Hey, I gave up French after O'levels, but even I could work out that what was being said on screen was not what was appearing in the text, eg. 'It say monkey but I not want', and so forth. But what can you expect from a pirate copy that cost less than 40p?). I have a DVD I haven't watched yet where Colin Firth plays a gay man, but he was gay in Mama Mia too, and I don't like it. He might be getting on a bit, but so am I, and I much prefer my male totty to be heterosexual. Ooh, I have just found an English one called Fish Tank. Looks a bit gritty (there are hoodies and high rise flats on the cover), but at least I can be fairly certain that nobody will be moved to remark 'It say monkey but I not want' at any point.

Well, gin and chocolate call. TTFN x

...because, late in the afternoon (about the time when you could knock off early from work but still get home in time for supper), it's always full of middle-aged nepali men, looking shifty and handing over wads of cash. Moreover, Hubby's friend R (Nepali) says that the area around the British School is apparently notorious for prostitution - although Nepalis are far more discreet than us westerners, so there's no hanging about on corners in mini skirts, or cars with steamed-up windows gently rocking (listen, I know what it's like to live in a red light district - where do you think the cheapest student rental houses were at uni?).

So, anyway, I'm deeply suspicious. And the poor old masseurs all look worn out these days, which adds fuel to the flames of my suspicions. You're not telling me they're that exhausted from the odd facial or pedicure.

So, apart from that bit of goss, anything else?

Hubby has just gone sailing.

Twin 2 has got into the habit of giving me really long hard kisses and telling me that I'm Prince Charming, which is a bit odd, but is probably just because I'm the only person who doesn't run away from her kisses.

Twin 1 hasn't felt the need to bite anyone again recently, so that's good.

erm...

that's it.

I have reason to believe that the spa I go to doubles up as a knocking shop...I will tell you all about it in a minute, but right now I have to say goodnight to a mermaid and a pirate...

Gary is barking, Son is reading Asterix, Twins are playing mermaids in the bath and all is well with the world (unless you are Sarah Fergusson, or you live in Afghanistan or...yes, come to think of it, that was a ridiculous comment to make. Things aren't even all well here, really. The constitution is supposed to have been written by Friday, but it won't be, so the Maoists may well kick off again. School has decided to turn Friday into the start of half-term, so the kids will be off anyway. And it's Buddha's birthday on Thursday - or another day if you live in India, I think he's like the Queen and has more than one - wonder what he would make of it all? And thinking of Buddhism, and reincarnation, what do you think Sarah Fergusson will be reincarnated as?).

The only teeny tiny fly in my ointment at the moment is that we have just finished the Mad Men box set, so now we will have to go back to watching scary Dexter instead. This probably a good thing as Hubby and I were slowly morphing into Don and Betty (although I drew the line at cupcake-making and chain-smoking, and Hubby wasn't entirely convinced he was ready for a steamy affair with one of the kid's teachers).

Have to go now as laptop needed for important screening of Cinderella 2!

sorry I haven't been in touch for ages - power lead for laptop got blown up in thunderstorm last week!

luddite

Just tried to add a hit counter, but instead I seem to have added an advert for serviced apartments in Sydney...not quite sure how that happened?

A career in IT doesn't beckon, at all, in fact, I think it shoos me away with a big frown on its sensible-career face.

Sorry about that (unless you are interested in a serviced apartment in Sydney, in which case, you're welcome!).

the M25's half-witted twin

Hello. It's me! Hubby is at work, work, work and kids are at school, school, school, and I should be writing, writing, writing, but I'm not.

I have put this week aside for research, which means I've just finished reading a book about adoption, I'm just about to read a book about bomb disposal, I'm going to order a DVD on the troubles in N Ireland in a minute and tonight I am going to watch 'the hurt locker' (probably - although I might be tempted by the next episode of Mad Men instead). So I am sitting around reading and watching DVDs a lot, which does seem a bit, well, lazy. Still, I am kidding myself that my subconscious is working, even when I'm lounging around doing not very much (although I did go out and do the meat shop this morning, so I have not been utterly unproductive. The meat shop is one of my least favourite chores because it involves going round the ring road - which is like the M25's half-witted twin - to the shop, which is down a steep, narrow track. It's a good idea to buy meat there, as it's the only meat shop in town with a generator, hence the only place where your frozen mince is actually kept frozen. Shopping for meat is not only really boring, it's also a pain in the bum because afterwards you have to reverse back up the steep and twisty track, as there's no room for the Landrover to turn around. And not only is this annoying, there are always some random underemployed locals staring open-mouthed at the shocking sight of a bideshi woman driving her own car, and, shock, using her wing mirrors as well). The problem at the moment is that my subconscious is working, and from the wellspring come thoughts such as 'you can't write this book, it will be too difficult for you and anyway the idea isn't nearly strong enough, you noodle'.

Anyway, I have to go now because I need to take the hoover off to be fixed (meat shopping and hoover repairs, what a treat this day is turning out to be!) x

market testing

How about this one?
When a grieving solider discovers a forgotten photograph, it sends her on a journey that will change her life forever?
Any better than the last one?

she's a biter

So, the other day I heard a right hullaballoo coming from the downstairs bathroom. I rushed in to find Twin 2 in tears and Twin 1 skulking nearby. Twin 2 told me that Twin 1 had just bitten her on the hand, and she showed me the bite marks. Twin 1 huffily defended herself by saying that Twin 1 was wasting water, because she had left the tap running. I didn't really know how to respond to such a dedicated level of commitment to environmental concerns on Twin 1's part. I think I muttered "oh-well-at-least-you-didn't-draw-blood-don't-forget-to-say-sorry" or something equally useless.

They never tell you how to deal with things like that in parenting manuals, do they?

However, I think perhaps Twin 1 might be onto something. Hubby's department and BGN have been trying desperately to make us conserve water. They have installed water meters, leafletted us with conservation tips, and given us all big buckets so we can use our grey water for flushing. But perhaps if anyone leaves a tap running in BGN then we should just send Twin 1 round to bite them on the hand, that'll teach all the over zealous flushers a lesson.

I'm forty, and I'm cracking open the gin, thanks.

work?

I am working today. Yes, it's been a while!

I'm off to do an interview with a Nepali girl who was trafficked into India to work in a circus, and later rescued by a local charity (Ester Benjamins Trust) for the Nepali Times.

Hubby thinks this is a good thing because if I get back into freelancing then I might actually be able to provide some income when we move back to the UK (he thinks it might be more lucrative than waiting for me to outsell Joanna Trollope with my amazing new novel, and he is probably right!).

logline

I'm trying to think of one-line to sum up the book (which of course I haven't written but I'm hoping will be easier to write once I have a clear idea of the story).

How about this?

She's the perfect soldier - but does she have the courage to confront her past?

Or something.

What d'you think?

kiera knightly's relationship with meat pies

Hello. Guess what? The bandh is over, hurrah. Apparently BGN was on the brink of flying us (dependents) home as we were running out of water, but now it's all over. Kids are back at school (kind of miss them, especially as it means I have no reason not to start work on next book - although today I did of course have to go out and buy a brand new notebook and three different shades of post-it notes, and I had to source a pinboard because my new how-to book suggests it, and by the time I'd done all that it was nearly time to pick up the kids. This proves that my procrastination skills are top-drawer, even if my plotting skills are bottom-of-the-wardrobe).

Hubby is asleep already. He decided to go for a run at 5.30 this morning, to try to avoid the horrendous Kathmandu traffic. Unfortunately for him I think all the truck drivers had decided to start work at 5.30 am, also to try to avoid the traffic. So he had horrible carbon-monoxide-inhaling run and has been exhausted all day. Actually I think we'll all end up borderline asthmatic by the time we leave here. Carbon emission reduction is to Kathmandu vehicles what meat pies are to Kiera Knightly.

So, you can help me with the slow process of the new book (if you want).

The story is about an army officer (woman) who discovers that her father, whom she believed dead, is still alive. Its about her journey to discover her past, and the impact that has on her future.

Hmmm, what d'you reckon? If you can come up with anything better then do let me know, before I get embroiled in the whole pinboard and post-it notes thing.

the bandh plays on

The prime minister still won't give in, and neither will the maoists, despite the rain. Everyone's clearly getting fed up, so there's been a bit of argy-bargy around the valley, and a few areas are now under curfew (not us - but we're not likely to go anywhere anyway).

School off again tomorrow, so kids are happy, anticipating another day of mindless arsing about.

I'm planning to escape to the hairdresser tomorrow afternoon. It'll be a bit cloak-and-dagger because of course she's not supposed to be open, but I'm going to phone her when I'm there and she will open the door a crack, just wide enough for me to slide covertly inside and scurry up the stairs for my strike-breaking highlights.

At the moment I look like Robert Smith on a bad hair day, so it will be well worth the effort in time for the BGN pool party tomorrow night. It's a barbeque (might be tempted to sneak a few burgers into my handbag so that we don't run out of food over the weekend, or just to lace with poison and feed to the yappy dog next door - although I think someone might have beaten us to it as it was earily quiet last night. I did in fact wake up and mention to Hubby that it was 'eerily quiet' at two in the morning, which he wasn't very happy about, as me mentioning it woke him up and then he couldn't get back to sleep without the soothing backdrop of howling dogs, hymn-singing and mouth-organ music that is the norm for Kathmandu at night).

Anyway, the good news is that I'm going to stay 39 a bit longer. Hubby has to be in Pokhara for my birthday, so we have decided to postpone it until the next day (or risk tantrums and petulance at him prioritising work over my very important birthday). But this is a good thing as it means I have an extra day of being in my thirties!

Hopefully the bandh will be over by then and we can go out somewhere for the night. If it's not, then our celebration might just be getting hold of some black-market buff mince and making a nice spaghetti whilst listening to the sounds of police batons holding back the marauding hordes.

Oooh, and I'm getting a big, black ring. Do you remember watching Crimewatch in 1990? Of course you do! Do you remember it was presented by Sue and Nick, and Sue had a really nice big onyx ring? Yes, you do! Well I have coveted that ring for the past twenty years, and I finally persuaded Hubby to get one made for me. And guess what? It's only going to cost about eight quid as well (at that price I might persuade him to cough up for the matching bracelet). Good eh?

Deary me, it's a bit sad, that getting a black ring is the fulfillment of my ambitions as a twenty year old. Other twenty year olds want to be famous, or become prime minister, but no, all I ever wanted was Sue-from-Crimewatch's ring. And what's even sadder is that it has taken a whole twenty years to achieve that ambition.

Oh, I suppose there were a few other things I wanted to do, like travel, get married, have kids and a dog, run a marathon, get published in national press (fab, can tick those off), become a published author (oh, just leave it, I'm going to cry), become an MP (what kind of deluded self-image did I have?), make a patchwork quilt (why?), and have a size eight bottom (yes, well, some things are just never ever going to happen, and a sign of maturity is to accept them).

Hubby is sitting across the very big sitting room on the other sofa doing important work things on his laptop. I'm half tempted to attempt a cheery conversation with him, but the look on his face tells me that this will be futile, so I'm afraid I'm blathering on to you instead, because I'm quite sure you aren't working on customer service documents and team-building plans. Or maybe you are? In which case why are you wasting your time reading this drivel? Get back to work, you slacker!

ps

Also, in between immersion in Harry Potter, Son has developed wierd obsession with bottom massages (?!). He keeps asking us if we want a bottom massage. I consistently refuse, but Twin 1 agreed, whereupon Son sort of squished her buttocks together and they both dissolved into fits of giggles as if it was the most hilarious thing since the Mr Gum books were written, instead of just downright odd. I shall remind them of this episode when Son is nineteen and Twin 1 is sixteen, in front of their respective girl/boy friends and see if they find it quite so funny then.

bandh aid

Bandh still going on...prime minister still won't resign, maoists still in a huff, and we are down to our last packet of frozen mince, so no more shepherd's pie/spag bol/chili con carne/meat balls after tomorrow night. Also no more toffee eclairs, but that's because I have just scoffed them all whilst checking my email, like one of the characters from the Fantastic Mr Fox film (jolly good film too, in a wierd way - helps that George Clooney does Mr Fox's voice of course).

I think I should probably now throw away the sandwiches that have been sitting in the lunchboxes in the fridge since Sunday night (think Gary will be happy with three sausage sarnies as a late night snack).

It's all a bit groundhog day, except that we have managed to have different kids coming to the pool with us each day so far.

Luckily we did have one batch of post arrive pre-bandh, which brought with it my recommended reading from the wise Romantic Novelists Association reader. It's called 'Save the Cat', and it's brilliant. I now realise that in my writing I have been doing everything wrong! But the book is written so well that I feel empowered, rather than suicidal (we'll just gloss over the previous year's work on the last novel).

Hubby is sitting next to me getting huffy because the christian orphanage cum old people's home next door has purchased a mouth organ, all the better to accompany their happy-clappy hymn singing. I've just been looking on Amazon at anger management books. Hubby says he doesn't need one, and I think he's right, but I'm not sure if there's one on 'How to deal with your irascible middle-aged husband.' I might have a look now...

indefinite bandh...

So, the Indefinite Bandh is doing pretty much what it says on the tin.

The city has been closed since Friday pm, and the kids are off school yet again tomorrow. I'm not overly bothered though, as at least it gets me out of the tedium of creating packed lunches for the morning. Luckily my panic-buying means we have enough food to last a while longer, although word on the street is that it's already impossible to get hold of milk and fresh fruit, etc. Markets and food shops are allowed to open between 6-8pm so we ventured out this evening to 'Home Grocer', (which is a small and poky supermarket, but at least is within walking distance. The bigger supermarkets are all still closed) to stock up on 'essentials' like strawberry cornflakes and Pringles.

As far as I can tell from the local website, the Maoists still want the Prime Minister (whose name is Mr Nepal, yes really!) to resign, and he is still saying he doesn't want to. Eventually we will all run out of food and drinking water and someone will have to capitulate - by which stage we will have had to resort to eating pilchards and Nutella (the chickpeas have already gone) and will be very thirsty.

Incidentally, remember how I heard about the bandh, and went out and did lots of shopping, to stock up, in case I couldn't buy anything for a while? You would have thought that British Gurkhas Nepal, with all the super-dooper army logistics at their disposal would have done likewise, wouldn't you? Well, it appears they forgot, or something, and now we are running out of drinking water, because the drinking water is supplied in those big water bottles (like you get at water coolers in offices) that are produced in a local factory, which is of course closed because of the bandh. Der!

Kids are happy because there is no school. The school did send them home with 'bandh' work for this very eventuality, but only enough for one day. So we did do a bit yesterday, but today we just went swimming and watched DVDs and I expect we'll do more of the same tomorrow. Oh, and Son has just discovered the delights of Harry Potter (when I asked if he wanted me to invite one of his friends over this afternoon he said no, because he just wanted to finish his book. I thought I might suggest that he invite someone tomorrow, but I noticed at bed time that he's started the next HP book already, so I suspect he'll want to be equally antisocial tomorrow as well), so he has been hoovering up words a lot as well.

Hubby is already in bed and I'm going to go too, even though it's not even nine yet. This is not because we're planning a night of unbridled passion, but because the next door neighbours have got a very yappy dog, which woke us up at four this morning. Dogs don't usually wake me up, but this one was especially loud and yappy and infuriating. If it continues I shall have to consider lobbing a buff steak laced with arsenic over the fence.

Must go before I fall asleep at the screen.

Cheerio xx