Tuesday 30 November 2010

Brrr, chillers!

Brrr, chillers! Although the only snow is on the mountains. And it's nearly Christmas, hurrah. Can't wait for exciting nativity play, if only so that Twins will hopefully have got "Little Donkey" and "Mary's Boy Child" well and truly off their chests by the time it's over, and not feel the need to sing xmas 'pop' songs to me over breakfast. Twin 2 is a dancing silver star (why, oh why do they always give her dancing parts? It's only a matter of time before she plummets off the stage and into the pit. Luckily, when she does, her fall will be broken by Twin 2, who is a musician - not a magician, as her friends would have us believe. Many mothers were quite surprised by how many offspring were claiming to be magicians in the school play, until we realised that 'magic' amounted to banging a triangle or shaking a tambourine.)
Hubby in Pokhara again tonight, and I had planned to do something useful like re-writing my first chapter or editing the xmas DVD for the grandparents. However, instead, I opted for a glass of port (good in the cold) and a spot of comedy on BFBS welfare disc, and then I had a dilemma about whether to buy a lipstick on Amazon (Do I need it? Can I afford it? Can I get it cheaper anywhere else? etc. and in the end bored even myself with my petty fiscal dilemmas and gave up).
Sanu's last day today. I cried. I don't want her to go! Even though Hubby tells me she is just a cleaner, she has been my cleaner, and I liked her. And anyone prepared to do the housework for me and my very lazy family is a saint, in my eyes. Hubby thinks I'm being hormonal and irrational, but she has looked after my home and, on occasion, my kids, for the best part of two and a half years. Feels like the end of an era. It feels like the winds in the East and Mary Poppins is on the way, and our posting order will arrive soon, in fact.
On the cheery side, my leather jacket should be ready by now, so will need to get posted back to UK soon so I can wear it (which I know sounds mad, but it's always colder inside than out in Nepal in the winter, so coats don't really get much use).
Should I have another glass of port and watch some more comedy?
You're right, I really should.
Night, then x

Saturday 27 November 2010

being nice to Hubby

Sorry, it has been a sociable old week and that's my excuse for laxity (or should that be laxness? dunno) in writing. We went out to a Thanksgiving dinner at someone's house on Thursday, kids too. Have you ever tried pumpkin cheescake? Apparently it is the dessert of the moment, and jolly nice in fact. Also went out on Friday, with another couple, and paid a fortune for a very mediocre meal (I think that they just upped the price because we were the only customers and therefore the only chance for making any money whatsoever that night).
Hubby is just wondering if people will read my blog when we get divorced and it takes a darker twist. He seems to think this is inevitable. He is in a gloomy state of mind (which I put down to trapped wind). He says I need to be nice about him, for a change. So here are three nice things about my husband:
1. He has nice eyes,
2. He is extremely good in a crisis, and
3. He makes a mean spaghetti bolognese.
I could list more, but he may read this, and it wouldn't do to put him in an overly strong emotional position, which he could exploit by demanding more Caribbean sailing trips (I think one is enough, don't you?).
The other night we popped into the Irish Bar for a quick one after the leather shop. What was so wierd about this was that it was like any Irish Bar anywhere in the world (except, perhaps, in Ireland), but with Nepali bar staff. Which I suppose shouldn't be odd, but you really could not tell you were in Kathmandu, what with the Man U match on the flat screen TVs, and the illuminated adverts for Murphy's. What was even wierder was how out-of-place I felt there, considering I used to live in pubs (literally: I lived above The Earl of Lonsdale on Portabello Road in 1994). I scuttled up to the nearest bar stool and glowered at all the drunk gap-year nineteen-year-olds who were all smoking and talking loudly and earnestly about nothing at all.
I sat, uncomfortable in my Gap jeans and pashmina, enjoying the free slice of chocolate cake that came with my hot toddy. The problem is, I'm a right old matron these days, and young people just strike me as cocky whippersnappers with ill-fitting clothes. Even though it barely seems a moment since I was myself a cocky whippersnapper with ill-fitting clothes (and questionable taste in men). Which I suppose brings me back to being nice about Hubby, as he was able to see through the whippersnapperishness, and realise that one day I'd leave the booze and fags and dodgy fashion choices behind, and blooming well grow up and get married and have kids.
Good on him (still miss the roll ups though).
Night xxx


Monday 22 November 2010

not much except princesses

Hello. Sorry the whole weekend passed and I didn't write a thing. I did, however, help make princess fans, princess tiaras and decorate biscuits in a princessy way (should perhaps have asked Kate thingy to come along. After all, she'll need to learn to be a good princess now, won't she? I can tell her that it involves glue, silver foil and hearts. And curtseying, definitely. Maybe I should email her and she could come to our next empty Sunday afternoon, where we will be making princess sashes and princess bookmarks, if the Queen will let her?)
Yes, Hubby was busy working on his management thing, and Son was out at a party so I was trying to be a good mother in entertaining the twins. Despite my best efforts, Twin 1 still says she loves her dad more than me, the traitorous ingrate. She says he's more fun, and no amount of glitter glue and spangly creativity can change her mind. It seems so unfair - all he ever does with the kids is watch episodes of 1960s Star Trek. Maybe I should resort to 1960s Star Trek, and my children will begin to love me as well?
Only wrote one scene for the NGN today, as the day was largely taken up with trying to find a new housekeeper. Even as I write this, I realise how poncey this sounds, and I won't bore you with many details, except to say that four days notice does seem a little on the short side. However, I think I may have found a replacement. I do hope so, because otherwise we shall soon be wearing four-day old underpants and living in an ant-infested hovel. Hubby brightly suggested that we save the money we spend on domestic staff and do the chores ourselves. Which is easy for him to say, as he won't be the one swabbing down acres of marble flooring until two in the morning.
It's got really cold here over the last few days (well, you know, relatively speaking - in a house with no central heating or insulation), and I am getting plenty of good use out of the cashmere stocks. Twin 2 seems to think that the solution for feeling a bit chilly is to take off all your clothes and wrap yourself in two of Mummy's nice pashminas. Which would be sweet, if she didn't have a hideous cold. Mmm, pashminas, so much softer than tissues, so much nicer to wipe a five-year-old nose on... so I think I may have to start keeping my cashmere under lock and key.
No Coronation Street tonight, as one of the regulars has to get up early to do a school trip tomorrow. I do miss sitting with a couple of teachers, drinking wine, and speculating on whether Dierdre's neck is in fact a better actor than she is. And why Ken, Dev and Gail are still in it? Perhaps it's because their acting repertoire runs the full gamut, from peeved to mildly irritated.
Feel a bit of a wuss going to sleep before ten, but I have watched two episodes of Black Books, so not an utterly wasted evening (decided that Hubby is Bernard, I am Fran and Gary is Manny).
Night then x

Thursday 18 November 2010

goddess gone

Oh, I meant to say, remember the Living Goddess who was very grumpy and didn't reply to my emails? Well, she's only gone and been replaced by a seven year old! No wonder she was in such a foul mood, she was probably massively premenstrual, poor thing. At least she can go off now and follow her dream of becoming an accountant, bless.

research is essential

Hubby is in Pokhara, it's eight pm and I'm lying in bed scoffing the last chocolate orange and you can't stop me (neither, more importantly, can he).
The next great novel is progressing slowly, but it is progressing, which is good (which is less than can be said of my creative writing masters application, which has stalled, because all my academic certificates - all two of them - are in storage, bummer). Tomorrow Hubby and I are going out to the Ambassador Hotel and the Irish bar, for some essential research (yes, really), as my protagonist and her love interest get it together in these two places. Oh, and we're also popping into the leather shop for some xmas shopping, which I'm mightily excited about. Hubby suggested getting me a leather jacket made for xmas, to which I squealed with delight and said it was a fabulous idea, darling (I think I may have been a homosexual Californian man in a previous incarnation). And as essential research for the leatherware purchase, I'm meeting two friends with leather jackets for lunch tomorrow, so I can stroke their leather and decide which style to get copied (biker or trench?). It's tough this research business.
Only half a chocolate orange left.
I could quit whilst I'm ahead and have a sensible cup of camomile tea, or I could scarf the rest. Hmmm....

Wednesday 17 November 2010

chocolate oranges

Well, that's two of the chocolate oranges done. Only one to go! My excuse is that I've got a cold. You know what they say, 'starve a fever, feed a cold'. I'm not sure who says that actually. Probably the same person who says 'brussel sprouts make your hair curl'. Do you think there is some mad old woman out there somewhere, whispering unsolicited and medically incorrect advice into our subconsciousness? Does she sneak into our rooms when we're asleep, or pop up from behind the sofa when we are being forced to watch Chitty Chitty Bang Bang again (is she in league with the child catcher?)?
I think I should make up a few myself and add them to the mix: 'eat chocolate oranges, become irresistably attractive to younger men' perhaps; or 'a chocolate orange segment a day stops the Hubby from stray (ing)'; or even 'chocolate oranges make your boobs grow and banish wrinkles'.
The problem is, once the last chocolate orange has gone, where do I move on to? Will the advent calendars be safe for another two weeks, or will the children have to make do with opening the flap to an empty plastic space every day until xmas?
Its gone ten, so I have to go to bed now (it's the law). Goodnight x

Sunday 14 November 2010

Sunday,

I am feeling well young (not will young, he was the one who won x-factor about eight years ago, surprisingly pipping Gareth Gates at the post) because I'm writing my blog and Hubby is getting a facebook account. I know, how modern are we? I might get really excited and start tweeting soon.
Or maybe not.
Facebook is possibly the worst thing for Hubby to have, as it's utterly alien to his sociopathic nature. I think I'm his only 'friend' so far, so I might have to irritate him by 'poking', sending invitations to play online black jack and all those other utterly pointless things you can do when you're facebooking (is it a verb yet? probably).
Today was remembrance sunday at the British Embassy. We decided to be nice parents and let our children play on the playground and eat sweets rather than making them sit through the service (not as negligent as it sounds as the playground was right next door to the car park where the service was held). We sat at the back and told them only to come and get us in an emergency. About half way through the service it dawned on me that Twin 2's concept of an emergency differed slightly from ours. First her ponytail band fell out (call the police!), then she finished eating her Smarties and didn't know where to put the empty tube (call an ambulance!), and then she hurt her foot a bit at the bottom of the slide (phone the Queen!). Hubby was not impressed. He was, in fact, the very worst thing a parent can ever be... he was disappointed. He was so disappointed that Twin 2 was not allowed any Sprite at lunchtime, yes, that's how heinous the crime was judged to be. Her little mouth wobbled like a miserable trout in a chilly stream.
Bearded cousin and Girlfriend arrived today. They brought a whole bag full of xmas goodies, woo hoo! I have decided that children definitely won't like dark chocolate oranges, so I shall be forced to eat all three of those myself. I have to go and put away all the lovely chocolate stuff now, and it will be really, really hard not to eat anything. Maybe it would be okay to eat just one small segment of chocolate orange tonight?

Friday 12 November 2010

Hurrah!

Don't forget to buy the Sunday Times this weekend because an extremely close friend of mine has written a profile of a Living Goddess for the 'Life in the day' section on the back page of the magazine...

Tuesday 9 November 2010

it was a tuesday...

It's eight thirty on a Tuesday evening, and I'm lying on top of the bed in furry slipper-boot things and trying not to slurp my camomile tea too loudly as Hubby is concentrating on his book. I know I turned forty this year but I thought my slide into old age would be slightly more gradual than this. It's only a matter of time before I start eating Battenburg cake and smelling like damp cushions (luckily you can't buy Battenburg out here, or French Fancies, so the total descent into old lady-ness may take a bit longer).
Today I spent quite a long time watching pictures of things blowing up in Afghanistan on Youtube. Why? Because I'm trying to re-write my first chapter and it's from the point of view of someone in Afghanistan. This morning I learnt that there is a huge amount of Youtube footage from Afghanistan, but most of it is unhelpful for my purposes. Unless I change my book to include US Marines shouting 'Holy Shit!' a lot, that is.
After my morning of war footage, I went out to lunch with the chief-of-staff and deputy-chief-of-staff's wives to sort out planning the kids' xmas party. The elephant is ill, so we have nothing for Santa to arrive on, and, worse, there's a rumour that the Santa costume is broken. Furthermore, our potential Santa has defected and will be working the British Embassy that day. Oh no! I'm thinking we might go for a Mrs Santa this year, or is that a bit too 'modern' for the British Army, d'you think?
Twin 2 is looking Christmassy already, as I decided to be a good middle-class mum and do some crafts with the kids yesterday (they were off school for Tihar). I thought we could make Christmas wrapping paper, as you can't buy it out here. We had twelve metres of brown paper, which I thought we could stamp with holly leaves, snowy footprints, etc. There is no such thing as washable paint here, so I had to make do with acrylic...which was where the trouble began. Luckily I had the foresight to make the whole thing happen outside, and make everyone wear very old clothes. However, I hadn't considered their enthusiasm for the task. They really threw themselves into it. No, really, they threw themselves into it. As a result, Twin 2 now has acrylic red and green splodges all over her blonde hair. I guess it will grow out eventually, unlike the green handprints down the side of our white-painted house. I think I shall stick to being a bad and chavvy mother in future and leave creative crafts to the teachers. What's wrong with having an extra Disney DVD on a bank holiday, and keeping walls, hair, clothes and sanity intact?
Gary has been a house dog most of the weekend because they let off bangers all night over Tihar (despite fireworks being illegal in Nepal - not sure where people get them from), and even though he is a wolf, he doesn't like sudden noises. He's been mostly hiding in the wardrobe. However, he's been booted out tonight because the bangers have stopped and Hubby doesn't want him getting any unnecessary ideas about his status. I can't blame him, because if we hadn't taken a stand then I'm sure Gary would be lying next to me right now reading 'Egonomics' and Hubby would be curled up in the wardrobe. Although, come to think of it, that wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing, as Gary is a) furrier, b)cuddlier and c)much less grumpy than Hubby. Perhaps I'll sneak down in a minute and secretly unlock the door, and see how the land lies in the morning...

Saturday 6 November 2010

Saturday night in Kathmandu

Mindful of the fact that we won't be here for ever, we spent a right old touristy day today and visited a big Buddhist stupa and the Garden of Dreams. Oh, and Kentucky Fried Chicken as well, but we'll gloss over that one (although my Twister and virgin mojito were very tasty, thanks).
Today was Cow Tihar, but I didn't see many happy cows today, just the usual skinny ones sifting through the roadside trash.
Hubby has just downloaded an application for his phone that not only shows a picture of an AK47, it also makes AK47 noises, too. Oooh. He has been having vague thoughts about leaving the army, but on the basis of this evidence, I think he'd be better off staying in, as he's clearly still obsessed with noisy killing machines. Oh, now he's aiming the phone and 'shooting' me as I write, how very amusing. Ha, ha it's out of rounds now, so I live to write another day...maybe not, he's just got me with the light saber... arghhh (sound of me dying dramatically like Darth Vader).

Thursday 4 November 2010

is it really wrong to steal chocolate?

Last night Son caught me mid-mouthful with a mini Mars Bar I had poached from Twins' Halloween stash.

Him (from upstairs, looking over the bannisters): what are you eating?
Me (muffled): Nothing.
Him (coming downstairs): You are eating something.
Me (stuffing the rest in and making a dash for the larder to put sweetie bag back in its place): Nothing!
Him (appearing at the larder door): I can see you chewing.
Me (embarrassed and ashamed, swallowing rapidly): Oh, all right then. I stole a mini Mars Bar from the girls' bag. But I tell you what, if I give you a mini Twix from their bag as well, will you promise not to tell them.
Him: Oh, okay then.

So, with that short exchange of words, I have now undone eight precious years of moral education. My eight year old has learnt both to lie and steal, and who has he learnt it from? Not some ne'er do well young scallywag at school, but from me, his own mother.

I hung my head in shame (and kept quiet about the Reese's peanut butter cups I nicked from his bag the night before).

Tomorrow is Dog Tihar. Meena and Sanu have the day off, but Meena told me she has instructed the gate guard to use some marigolds from the garden to make Gary a garland. I'm not sure he'll want to do that, so have found a couple of fake flower necklaces belonging to the Twins for him, and I'm thinking a piece of chicken liver pate on toast would probably be his preferred Tihar treat. Maybe we can use some red lipstick of mine to do a tikka for him. It was Crow Tihar today, although I didn't see many crows wearing garlands. I'm not entirely sure how one is supposed to celebrate with crows. There's possibly some Hindu crow etiquette that I'm unaware of. Saturday is Cow Tihar, and someone will no doubt turn up at our gate with a sacred bovine, expecting something, and taking us unawares whilst we're still in our Saturday morning pyjamas. Perhaps we should set aside some extra specially tasty blades of grass, who knows? Certainly not me. This is my third Tihar in Nepal, and you'd think I should have got a grip and discovered why we're blessing select animals and not others. I mean, if you're not a dog, a cow or a crow at the moment, you're going to feel pretty left out. There's probably a whole bunch of discontented cats in the neighbourhood, trying to make out they don't care about not having a holy blessing day (meow, who wants a flower garland anyway? Even if they offered me a tikka I wouldn't have one, etc.).
Sorry, I should go to bed now, as 6am will come as a hideous surprise if I don't.
Take care x

Tuesday 2 November 2010

Christmas is coming

I have ordered kids' xmas presents already. At least I waited until Halloween was over until I did. As usual I'm ridiculously excited about it. I think Son still believes in Santa, but who knows for how much longer? He's eight, so I'm guessing this might be the last year (sob). I have also volunteered (been spammed by the other wives, actually) with organising the kids' xmas party on camp. The cheif of staff's wife has requested a meeting and I have emailed her my party plan. I have stunned myself with my organisational skills. I think it may be just that I'm procrastinating because I can't get back into writing the NGN at the moment, and organising parties is a good way of avoiding sorting out the dire mess that is chapter one. x