Hello! What have you been up to? I'm sure your life has been more exciting than mine...it's the end of week four of the school holidays and the kids have finished their English workbooks and got their respective presents. As I write, Twin 2 is sitting in a wildly inappropriate bubblegum pink crinoline-style creation, which was less expensive than I expected, so she also has a kind-of large Polly Pocket thing with pink hair. Ah the rewards of hard work!
Talking of which...you know I revised my first chapter and re-submitted it to the peer review site. I confidently expected to get better reviews this time round, but they are worse! So much for taking on constructive criticism. Anyway, I'm sending the first three chapters off to an agent next week (Rebecca is coming round later, to help me write the synopsis), so fingers crossed.
Hubby is in Pokhara tonight, having his leaving do from the Pokhara office. He'll be there now, probably on his fourth whisky, waiting for the dahl baht to cook (do you think I'll get a present, even though I'm not there?). He nearly didn't make it, because the monsoon storms have been so severe that the airport was closed until lunchtime. He's booked to come back tomorrow, but who knows if he'll make it? People sometimes get stuck there for days, so I'm planning a weekend of single parenthood (brunch in the mess, DVD, then trip out to the ice cream parlour tomorrow; swimming lessons and roast dinner at the embassy on sunday, to be specific). Tomorrow I have to have the car cleaned, or Hubby's successor will have second thoughts about buying it, and we will never be able to afford my creative writing MA course (which clearly, by my current ratings, I really need to do, if I am ever to make it as a novelist). The only problem is that there are no car washes in Kathmandu. No, not one. Luckily someone has agreed to do it for me (I haven't told him that the last time I washed it was six months ago and that we did have a resident rat in the car for a while - wouldn't want to put him off), for which he shall be handsomely rewarded.
So, what's been the highlight of the week? Could it possibly be Twin 2 running across in front of the Headquarters building on the Gurkha Camp singing 'Like a Virgin' (the Moulin Rouge version) whilst her knickers slowly made their way towards her ankles? Yes, it could.
I secretly hope the Cheif of Staff happened to be looking out of his office window at the time and was appalled at the wanton behaviour of my six-year-old.
Right, better go and sort out sleepover room for kids, who have a friend staying tonight (they have already wowed me with a play about aliens, and I'm looking forward to more dramatic performances nice and early in the morning).
Take care x
Friday 29 July 2011
Monday 25 July 2011
bean counters
It's just gone nine, and Hubby's asleep, of course. I'm doing a jolly good job of easing myself into Greenwich Mean Time (or is it British Summer Time), by waking up later and later, the closer we get to moving back to the UK. (Unfortunately Hubby doesn't have that option as he will be working right up until five o'clock in the afternoon on the day we leave - we fly at eight). This means that our house is effectively on different time zones at the moment. When I zipped chirpily in from gym and yoga this evening, he was already beyond monosyllabic and slunk up to bed with a frown on his working-man's brow.
Rebecca Bryan was going to make an appearance tonight, as she has vowed to edit the first three chapters and get them off to an agent before we move. However, I've noticed that it's already nine, and somewhere in the house, if I can find it, is a really good book I'm three-quarters of the way through, and, well, nine pm is a little late to begin one's working day, even if I am progressing towards a different time zone. I hope Rebecca isn't too unhappy with me for my lackadaisical attitude (I'd ask her, but she scares me a bit).
Today the bean counters came round. No, they weren't actual bean counters. But they were actual fork and sheet counters. They gave me a useful list of all the army stuff that we signed for when we moved in three years ago. I spent quite some time today counting cutlery and trying to locate missing electric heaters, etc. Which is partly why I want a bit of time to read my book tonight as I feel like I deserve it, after being very responsible for a couple of hours this afternoon.
What I've come to realise over the course of my time as an army wife, is that the moving doesn't bother me in the slightest. I love moving house and going somewhere new. What I don't love is all the scary bean counting that goes with it. You know, getting fined for not having a tidy garden, or whatever. I remember there being a charge for excessive dog hairs on the sofa when we left Northern Ireland, for example. I'm such a bad housewife (I'm the antithesis of a domestic goddess - domestic demon perhaps?) and have such lamentable attention to detail that remembering to do all the right things to hand over a married quarter is just a bit too scary. And it's not just getting it wrong, it's the embarrassment of admitting that I wasn't a good enough housewife to bother hoovering the dog hair out from in between the sofa cushions, or checking that there wasn't a half-eaten cake in the desk drawer.
So I think Rebecca can come over tomorrow and get stuck into chapters two and three.
Come to think of it, I should have invited her over this afternoon to deal with the bean counters, and maybe she could just take over the whole moving business?
I know she'd do a far better job than me.
Rebecca Bryan was going to make an appearance tonight, as she has vowed to edit the first three chapters and get them off to an agent before we move. However, I've noticed that it's already nine, and somewhere in the house, if I can find it, is a really good book I'm three-quarters of the way through, and, well, nine pm is a little late to begin one's working day, even if I am progressing towards a different time zone. I hope Rebecca isn't too unhappy with me for my lackadaisical attitude (I'd ask her, but she scares me a bit).
Today the bean counters came round. No, they weren't actual bean counters. But they were actual fork and sheet counters. They gave me a useful list of all the army stuff that we signed for when we moved in three years ago. I spent quite some time today counting cutlery and trying to locate missing electric heaters, etc. Which is partly why I want a bit of time to read my book tonight as I feel like I deserve it, after being very responsible for a couple of hours this afternoon.
What I've come to realise over the course of my time as an army wife, is that the moving doesn't bother me in the slightest. I love moving house and going somewhere new. What I don't love is all the scary bean counting that goes with it. You know, getting fined for not having a tidy garden, or whatever. I remember there being a charge for excessive dog hairs on the sofa when we left Northern Ireland, for example. I'm such a bad housewife (I'm the antithesis of a domestic goddess - domestic demon perhaps?) and have such lamentable attention to detail that remembering to do all the right things to hand over a married quarter is just a bit too scary. And it's not just getting it wrong, it's the embarrassment of admitting that I wasn't a good enough housewife to bother hoovering the dog hair out from in between the sofa cushions, or checking that there wasn't a half-eaten cake in the desk drawer.
So I think Rebecca can come over tomorrow and get stuck into chapters two and three.
Come to think of it, I should have invited her over this afternoon to deal with the bean counters, and maybe she could just take over the whole moving business?
I know she'd do a far better job than me.
Saturday 23 July 2011
Saturday hangover
Went to Hubby's leaving do in the 'yard' (the patch of concrete in between the offices and the workshops at his work) last night. It was the usual sit-about-and-drink-for-three-hours-until-the-dahl-and-curry-is-cooked. They gave a speech for Hubby, but as it was in Nepali we had (almost) no idea what they were saying (I understood two words: 'water' and 'therefore' - good to know all that money we spent on Nepali lessons wasn't entirely wasted), so all that clapping could well have been a response to "What a huge relief this water treatment taskmaster is finally leaving us, and therefore lets hope that the next bloke is a bit more of a pushover" (cue earnest nodding and applause).
Anyway, the workforce are so happy that Hubby is finally leaving that they clubbed together to buy him a nice kukri (curved knife) and a lovely embroidered pashmina for me (one can never have too many pashminas, you know) as leaving gifts. Normally the choice of drink at these functions is: whisky or coke or whisky-and-coke. However this time they really pushed the boat out and there was wine. So I drank far too much wine and Hubby drank far too much whisky and all we have managed to do today is take the kids out to KFC for lunch. Right now everyone is watching Indiana Jones, which is an almost perfect choice for a Saturday hangover.
The reality that we are actually moving is taking hold. I checked out the thirty-day weather forecast for Devon yesterday, and quickly went on to Amazon to buy wellies and get them sent to my parents house. I think I might have to pack the odd pashmina or two as well, as it doesn't look like summer in the UK is set to get terribly summery...
Ooh, keep getting distracted by Indie (it's the bit where they are in Nepal, escaping from the Nazis, just before they get to Egypt), so I'd better go and give it my full attention.
Have a great weekend x
Anyway, the workforce are so happy that Hubby is finally leaving that they clubbed together to buy him a nice kukri (curved knife) and a lovely embroidered pashmina for me (one can never have too many pashminas, you know) as leaving gifts. Normally the choice of drink at these functions is: whisky or coke or whisky-and-coke. However this time they really pushed the boat out and there was wine. So I drank far too much wine and Hubby drank far too much whisky and all we have managed to do today is take the kids out to KFC for lunch. Right now everyone is watching Indiana Jones, which is an almost perfect choice for a Saturday hangover.
The reality that we are actually moving is taking hold. I checked out the thirty-day weather forecast for Devon yesterday, and quickly went on to Amazon to buy wellies and get them sent to my parents house. I think I might have to pack the odd pashmina or two as well, as it doesn't look like summer in the UK is set to get terribly summery...
Ooh, keep getting distracted by Indie (it's the bit where they are in Nepal, escaping from the Nazis, just before they get to Egypt), so I'd better go and give it my full attention.
Have a great weekend x
Wednesday 20 July 2011
Rescue Remedy
It's raining, raining and raining a bit more here at the moment. Good practice for the UK, I suppose. All the kids have been having bad dreams recently, so I've been dosing them up with that well-known nightmare cure: Bach's Rescue Remedy. Seems to work - might have to give it a go on Hubby, who never seems to sleep beyond about 4.30 am these days.
Apart from bad dreams, kids continue to have a jolly nice summer hols. Remarkably, they are still doing their holiday workbooks, but I think this might only be because I reminded them that there will be a present for every book finished. Son wants a photographic book about Nepal, to remember out time here. Twin 1 wants a pair of slippers because hers are broken. Twin 2 wants two princess dresses. You don't have to be much of a psychologist to figure out their personalities from this: Son is thoughtful; Twin 1 is practical; Twin 2 lives in a fantasy world of her own making and is prone to extravagance and diva-like demands.
Today, we did workbooks, swimming and I escaped for a couple of hours this afternoon whilst they watched a DVD. What I should have done is used the time to go to the gym. What I actually did was to go for reflexology and a bar of chocolate. But when I came back I played hide-and-seek and hunt-the-Barbie for an hour and a half, and that must have burnt up some calories, surely?
Right, nearly bed time. Tomorrow I think I'll do something wildly exciting with the kids, like, erm, workbooks, swimming and a DVD...There's only about seven weeks until they go back to school...
Right, I'm off for some Rescue Remedy.
Goodnight x
Apart from bad dreams, kids continue to have a jolly nice summer hols. Remarkably, they are still doing their holiday workbooks, but I think this might only be because I reminded them that there will be a present for every book finished. Son wants a photographic book about Nepal, to remember out time here. Twin 1 wants a pair of slippers because hers are broken. Twin 2 wants two princess dresses. You don't have to be much of a psychologist to figure out their personalities from this: Son is thoughtful; Twin 1 is practical; Twin 2 lives in a fantasy world of her own making and is prone to extravagance and diva-like demands.
Today, we did workbooks, swimming and I escaped for a couple of hours this afternoon whilst they watched a DVD. What I should have done is used the time to go to the gym. What I actually did was to go for reflexology and a bar of chocolate. But when I came back I played hide-and-seek and hunt-the-Barbie for an hour and a half, and that must have burnt up some calories, surely?
Right, nearly bed time. Tomorrow I think I'll do something wildly exciting with the kids, like, erm, workbooks, swimming and a DVD...There's only about seven weeks until they go back to school...
Right, I'm off for some Rescue Remedy.
Goodnight x
Monday 18 July 2011
Bawhana 'Scissorhands' Rana
This morning we've had haircuts and doughnuts. Does life get any better? Actually, only the kids had haircuts - I wisely opted to get mine done the other week in Dubai, to escape the whirling blades of Bawhana 'Scissorhands' Rana. Still, she did a good job on the kids - fast, too - and it's not just hair cutting, it's cost-cutting as well, because after she's been at their mops, they won't have to have another haircut for at least six months, hurrah.
We went to Cafe Hessed for doughnuts afterwards. I told the lovely Korean owner that she makes the best doughnuts in Kathmandu. It's true (but I also think they might be the only doughnuts in Kathmandu, as I haven't seen them anywhere else in the past two years).
After that we went to get more welfare discs (more of the thrilling Ken and Dierdre at the pottery class storyline in Coronation Street - can't wait) and for a play in the play park.
Tomorrow we've got a leaving thing in the afternoon, so the kids have been practising their speeches. Twins are going to say how much they have enjoyed the swimming pool, and Son plans to say something about how nice and flat the roofs are in Nepal. Whatever they say will be a lot more interesting than anything I could muster up, so I'm going for the supportive wife and mother role (you know, lipstick and a dress and a quiet smile - should work a treat as long as I don't have too many Pimm's and let slip what I really think about BGN...)
Right then, better go and start on the change-of-address letters.
Take care x
We went to Cafe Hessed for doughnuts afterwards. I told the lovely Korean owner that she makes the best doughnuts in Kathmandu. It's true (but I also think they might be the only doughnuts in Kathmandu, as I haven't seen them anywhere else in the past two years).
After that we went to get more welfare discs (more of the thrilling Ken and Dierdre at the pottery class storyline in Coronation Street - can't wait) and for a play in the play park.
Tomorrow we've got a leaving thing in the afternoon, so the kids have been practising their speeches. Twins are going to say how much they have enjoyed the swimming pool, and Son plans to say something about how nice and flat the roofs are in Nepal. Whatever they say will be a lot more interesting than anything I could muster up, so I'm going for the supportive wife and mother role (you know, lipstick and a dress and a quiet smile - should work a treat as long as I don't have too many Pimm's and let slip what I really think about BGN...)
Right then, better go and start on the change-of-address letters.
Take care x
Saturday 16 July 2011
jockey-tastic
Hi, Twin 2 is up with Ganga the physio and the others are watching Star Trek with Hubby, and I'm fairly amazed at my lack of hangover. Last night we went to a cocktail party/games night in the mess. It is a bit bizarre to get all glammed up, only to play oversized board games and screech along to Singstar on Wii, but army life is nothing if not surreal. The oversized board game was in fact a horse race, based on the Grand National (the leading horse's syndicate had to down a glass of red wine when the horse made it over Beecher's Brook). I was in three different races, or maybe four (my memory is a bit hazy) and our team won two of them. In the final, Hubby and I entered a 'horse' called Gary Baharda Rai, in honour of our lovely mastiff dog, and we romped home and won ourselves eight thousand rupees (about £70). Not bad, eh? Even with the amount of Mojitos I consumed over the course of the night, we more than broke even. And, even better, I haven't had a real hangover today - I was up by eight cooking french toast for the kids (okay, I had to have a little power nap this afternoon, but then, I usually do on a weekend).
Luckily the do was held at night, as the dim lighting helped disguise the big rash of acne/eczema that has appeared on my chin. I'm beginning to think that I really ought to have splashed out on burka in Dubai, as it would help prevent the looks of revulsion I've been subjected to over the last few days. Even the doctor seemed horrified at the sight of the monstrous carbuncles in my peri-oral area and immediately prescribed antibiotics and steroids - do hope they work, as I don't have the option of growing a beard.
Rebecca Bryan is away right now (and don't tell her about the mojitos or the horse race as she would only disapprove), but before she left she uploaded a revised chapter 1 onto the peer review site. She now just has to review lots of other people's first chapters in order to get some good reviews for hers over the next two weeks - it's a bit of a numbers game. I think she'll have to come back tonight, or possibly tomorrow...
Anyway, have a good weekend xxx
Luckily the do was held at night, as the dim lighting helped disguise the big rash of acne/eczema that has appeared on my chin. I'm beginning to think that I really ought to have splashed out on burka in Dubai, as it would help prevent the looks of revulsion I've been subjected to over the last few days. Even the doctor seemed horrified at the sight of the monstrous carbuncles in my peri-oral area and immediately prescribed antibiotics and steroids - do hope they work, as I don't have the option of growing a beard.
Rebecca Bryan is away right now (and don't tell her about the mojitos or the horse race as she would only disapprove), but before she left she uploaded a revised chapter 1 onto the peer review site. She now just has to review lots of other people's first chapters in order to get some good reviews for hers over the next two weeks - it's a bit of a numbers game. I think she'll have to come back tonight, or possibly tomorrow...
Anyway, have a good weekend xxx
Wednesday 13 July 2011
Rebecca
Rebecca Bryan hasn't gone down too well with Hubby. She is too work focussed and a little bit grumpy. Tonight for example, Hubby suggested an episode of Corrie and Rebecca said in her best authoress voice "I have to work". She did not say, "Ooh, yes, and let's eat lots of chocolate whilst we're watching" because that's not what she's like. She is focussed and professional. Later, Hubby came up to where Rebecca was working - at that point she was just saving a document and morphing back into me. He said: "Well, I don't know what you've been working on..."
Rebecca was not very happy that Hubby couldn't know that she has spent the last three years writing, and has just completed a manuscript, especially as she told him she was revising chapter one this week, in order to get it peer-reviewed before entering it into a competition. He appeared to know nothing about this. Rebecca, on the other hand, knew all about super-chlorination and the difference between chloroforms and coliforms, and other water-treatment related work issues.
Rebecca feels that Hubby has scant interest in her writing beyond a potential means to retire early and buy a yacht.
I'm not Rebecca, though, so I'm prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt. This time...
Rebecca was not very happy that Hubby couldn't know that she has spent the last three years writing, and has just completed a manuscript, especially as she told him she was revising chapter one this week, in order to get it peer-reviewed before entering it into a competition. He appeared to know nothing about this. Rebecca, on the other hand, knew all about super-chlorination and the difference between chloroforms and coliforms, and other water-treatment related work issues.
Rebecca feels that Hubby has scant interest in her writing beyond a potential means to retire early and buy a yacht.
I'm not Rebecca, though, so I'm prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt. This time...
Tuesday 12 July 2011
Tonight, Mathew, I'm going to be Rebecca Bryan...
Twins have gone for a sleepover with their friend, and Son is an only child for the night. This afternoon I played chess (beat him, too - didn't mean to be quite so evil, and hadn't realised that I had him in check mate), tigers & goats and then did some cooking. He made some lush lemon squares, which will foil my attempts to lose a few pounds before we get back to the UK (the ingredients consisted mainly of sugar and butter, with a teensy bit of lemon juice and flour thrown in - don't know why I go to the effort of eating the darn things; I may as well just stick them directly onto my thighs).
Then I left him (not alone, Meena and Mani were scuttling about the place) whilst I went to the gym. I think I managed to work off the equivalent of half a mouthful of lemon square on the rowing machine (still too dizzy to go running, even though the nice doctor has given me some much more effective medication). After the gym I went to Hubby's office to walk home with him. As it was a quiet day, I only had to wait half an hour whilst he had conversations about super-chlorination and tried to shut down his very old computer. I began to wish I had brought 'A prayer for Owen Meany' with me - I could have got through a not inconsiderable chunk of it whilst waiting for the office tedium to end. Still, I filled the time trying to think of a suitable pseudonym. Did you know that Beyonce always thinks of herself as 'Sasha Fierce' before going onstage. A very nice friend of mine suggested that I do the same, and give myself a writer's name, in order to become more focussed on being a writer. So far, I've settled on Rebecca Bryan, which isn't terribly exciting, I know, but then neither is Mark Twain, or George Eliot or George Orwell or even Caroline Harvey (Joanna Trollope used to write as Caroline Harvey). Well, let me know if you can think of anything better than Rebecca Bryan...
So tonight, Mathew (ah, Stars in their eyes, remember that? does it still exist?), I'm going to be Rebecca Bryan, and I'm going to revise and edit chapter one.
Ta ra!
Then I left him (not alone, Meena and Mani were scuttling about the place) whilst I went to the gym. I think I managed to work off the equivalent of half a mouthful of lemon square on the rowing machine (still too dizzy to go running, even though the nice doctor has given me some much more effective medication). After the gym I went to Hubby's office to walk home with him. As it was a quiet day, I only had to wait half an hour whilst he had conversations about super-chlorination and tried to shut down his very old computer. I began to wish I had brought 'A prayer for Owen Meany' with me - I could have got through a not inconsiderable chunk of it whilst waiting for the office tedium to end. Still, I filled the time trying to think of a suitable pseudonym. Did you know that Beyonce always thinks of herself as 'Sasha Fierce' before going onstage. A very nice friend of mine suggested that I do the same, and give myself a writer's name, in order to become more focussed on being a writer. So far, I've settled on Rebecca Bryan, which isn't terribly exciting, I know, but then neither is Mark Twain, or George Eliot or George Orwell or even Caroline Harvey (Joanna Trollope used to write as Caroline Harvey). Well, let me know if you can think of anything better than Rebecca Bryan...
So tonight, Mathew (ah, Stars in their eyes, remember that? does it still exist?), I'm going to be Rebecca Bryan, and I'm going to revise and edit chapter one.
Ta ra!
Monday 11 July 2011
Nanny McWee
Good old Nanny McPhee. Or Nanny McWee as I like to call her. The kids tell me to stop being rude, but I can't help it, anything that ends in a double 'e' ought to be replaced with wee; it should be the LAW (perhaps this is why I never did anything with my Law degree?).
All of them are now watching Nanny McWee, which has given me time to sort out exhorbitant (no idea why the spell check says that's wrong...exorbitant? hmmm?) car insurance (more than the price of the car) and attempt to sort out road tax. I couldn't do the road tax thing because apparently the car, which I'm buying from my mum, doesn't exist. Do you think my mum has fleeced me, the old scoundrel, and made me cough up for a fenced motor? Perhaps she's going all criminal in her dotage? Or maybe I'm doing something wrong because I can't actually focus on the screen properly?
So, today hasn't been totally unproductive. I have also done the scary meat shop, and the flour-and-cheese shop (but not the trout-and-strawberry-and-stationary shop - no need for fish or biros today, thanks) and got myself a new forces railcard, and pretended to be a teacher whilst the kids did their holiday workbooks (I know, it's a bit tiger mum, but they will be off school for two months and if I'm not careful they will forget everything, the bunch of goldfish-brains), took them to a bookshop/cafe for lunch with their friend (in order to buy reading books for hols - I know, I am turning tiger mum; I'll be enrolling them all in violin lessons next...). Now they are all watching a DVD (hah! not so much tiger mum now!), and I'm wishing the blooming room would stop swaying. Every time I go on a plane nowadays I suffer days of 'vertigo' (I don't mean that I get scared of heights, just that every time I move everything goes all swimmy) afterwards. It's like being drunk, but without the good bits.
Right, I'm off for a lie down now whilst Nanny McWee is still doing her stuff, and hopefully everything will stop moving. I'm going to attempt to read some more of 'A Prayer for Owen Meany', which has taken me two years to begin, and at the rate I'm reading, may well take a further two years to finish (the writing is teeny-tiny and the book is very thick). It's good though.
Take care xx
All of them are now watching Nanny McWee, which has given me time to sort out exhorbitant (no idea why the spell check says that's wrong...exorbitant? hmmm?) car insurance (more than the price of the car) and attempt to sort out road tax. I couldn't do the road tax thing because apparently the car, which I'm buying from my mum, doesn't exist. Do you think my mum has fleeced me, the old scoundrel, and made me cough up for a fenced motor? Perhaps she's going all criminal in her dotage? Or maybe I'm doing something wrong because I can't actually focus on the screen properly?
So, today hasn't been totally unproductive. I have also done the scary meat shop, and the flour-and-cheese shop (but not the trout-and-strawberry-and-stationary shop - no need for fish or biros today, thanks) and got myself a new forces railcard, and pretended to be a teacher whilst the kids did their holiday workbooks (I know, it's a bit tiger mum, but they will be off school for two months and if I'm not careful they will forget everything, the bunch of goldfish-brains), took them to a bookshop/cafe for lunch with their friend (in order to buy reading books for hols - I know, I am turning tiger mum; I'll be enrolling them all in violin lessons next...). Now they are all watching a DVD (hah! not so much tiger mum now!), and I'm wishing the blooming room would stop swaying. Every time I go on a plane nowadays I suffer days of 'vertigo' (I don't mean that I get scared of heights, just that every time I move everything goes all swimmy) afterwards. It's like being drunk, but without the good bits.
Right, I'm off for a lie down now whilst Nanny McWee is still doing her stuff, and hopefully everything will stop moving. I'm going to attempt to read some more of 'A Prayer for Owen Meany', which has taken me two years to begin, and at the rate I'm reading, may well take a further two years to finish (the writing is teeny-tiny and the book is very thick). It's good though.
Take care xx
Saturday 9 July 2011
burkini
Hello, I'm back. And, yikes, we've got less than a month left here. I've got the suitcases out at the top of the stairs for a little ad hoc packing over the next few weeks. How do you pack for a month of homelessness in a UK summer? No, I don't know either. I did buy myself a pair of spangly fit-flops in duty free, because I thought they'd be nice and sensible for camping (and the sales lady said they matched my handbag). I managed to resist the urge to buy myself a burkini whilst I was there, although with the shocking amount of flab on my thighs these days, some might say I should have given in to temptation. I did see quite a lot of young women with burkinis at the water park, and the fact that they were completely covered in black lycra didn't seem to stop them having fun. There were also, however, quite a few properly burka'd-up women (who had no doubt still had to pay the extortionate entrance fees, even though their only amusement was sweating it out in the forty degree heat whilst their fat male offspring frolicked, loudly), and I realised that I have no real comprehension of, well, anything. It just seems to me that the rules of female dress in that part of the world are made entirely for the benefit of the men. Maybe I'm missing something. I did read somewhere that for some women its liberating to be completely covered because you don't then get ogled at (or as you get older, miss getting ogled at, I guess). But I still think, that if those burka'd women at the water park had the choice, they'd be in a swimming costume and screaming their way down the water slides with the rest of us.
We had two days at the water park and two days in the mall, and on the last night we had supper in front of the dancing fountains and watched nighttime Dubai in all its blinging glory. It's such a surreal place, and the total antithesis of Kathmandu. Not sure how long I could survive living there though - it's like the essence of consumerism: people go shopping to buy things to go shopping in - and I'm not sure what else they do. Hubby went for a run and nearly died of heat exhaustion, so I doubt there's much sport going on.
Hubby is sad to be back in Nepal. He misses the gleaming efficiency of Dubai. In fact we all began to miss the first world from the moment we got on the flight back home (mainly because most of the other passengers had yet to master the concept of sitting on a toilet seat - the air hostesses kept having to close the toilets and give them a thorough hose down and disinfectant; still, at least there was no urine running down the aisles this time). However, I'm sad to be back because now we're going through the whole 'last of' experiences. Soon we'll have our last trip to the Sterling Club and our last lunch at Cafe U etc. etc. (won't miss my last near-death experience crossing the main road, though).
Kids seem cheerily unaffected by it all. I think I will be the only person sobbing my way to the airport when we finally head off.
Anyway, must go and take cinnamon rolls out of the oven.
We had two days at the water park and two days in the mall, and on the last night we had supper in front of the dancing fountains and watched nighttime Dubai in all its blinging glory. It's such a surreal place, and the total antithesis of Kathmandu. Not sure how long I could survive living there though - it's like the essence of consumerism: people go shopping to buy things to go shopping in - and I'm not sure what else they do. Hubby went for a run and nearly died of heat exhaustion, so I doubt there's much sport going on.
Hubby is sad to be back in Nepal. He misses the gleaming efficiency of Dubai. In fact we all began to miss the first world from the moment we got on the flight back home (mainly because most of the other passengers had yet to master the concept of sitting on a toilet seat - the air hostesses kept having to close the toilets and give them a thorough hose down and disinfectant; still, at least there was no urine running down the aisles this time). However, I'm sad to be back because now we're going through the whole 'last of' experiences. Soon we'll have our last trip to the Sterling Club and our last lunch at Cafe U etc. etc. (won't miss my last near-death experience crossing the main road, though).
Kids seem cheerily unaffected by it all. I think I will be the only person sobbing my way to the airport when we finally head off.
Anyway, must go and take cinnamon rolls out of the oven.
Monday 4 July 2011
back to the first world
Spent the day in Dubai Mall, which might sound tedious, but compared to Kathmandu, was utter heaven. Where were the potholes, leaking sewerage pipes, unlicensed adolescents on scary motorbikes, gormless shop assistants and general air of lethargy? Nowhere! Because we're back in the first world (although we can only afford to be here for five days, before the money runs out...), and for now it is a jolly nice place to be.
We went to the aquarium; Hubby went to Gap and now looks like a Gap model, and not like a tramp; we went to the rainforest cafe for lunch; Hubby and Son went up Burj Kalifa; Twins went on a train ride round the mall; I went to the Body Shop. The credit card has had more use today than it has had in the past year, but we're all happy, and what's more, Hubby hasn't mentioned work for a whole twenty-four hours.
I've just popped out to get a haircut: magic - the hairdresser knew how to cut hair and there was electricity for the blow dry and magazines to read that weren't circa 2007.
And now I'm off to have a bar of real chocolate and flick my coiffed locks at my Gap model husband.
Ta ra! x
We went to the aquarium; Hubby went to Gap and now looks like a Gap model, and not like a tramp; we went to the rainforest cafe for lunch; Hubby and Son went up Burj Kalifa; Twins went on a train ride round the mall; I went to the Body Shop. The credit card has had more use today than it has had in the past year, but we're all happy, and what's more, Hubby hasn't mentioned work for a whole twenty-four hours.
I've just popped out to get a haircut: magic - the hairdresser knew how to cut hair and there was electricity for the blow dry and magazines to read that weren't circa 2007.
And now I'm off to have a bar of real chocolate and flick my coiffed locks at my Gap model husband.
Ta ra! x
Sunday 3 July 2011
handsome tramp
Here we are in Dubai, hurrah! Hubby is not grumpy, hurrah (mainly because we had a Burger King for supper)! Nobody was sick on the plane, hurrah! The plane was an hour ahead of schedule, hurrah!
We are all very happy to be here and be away from the stress (in Hubby's case) and raw emotion of the end-of-term-saying-goodbye-to-everyone (in my case). Spent a not inconsiderable time last week saying goodbye to people over lunch/supper. I think I ate at home maybe once last week. Well, it's all over now, the weepy old end of year has come and gone and everyone has hot-footed it back to the UK/US to visit parents and in-laws. However, we have another month to go.
Hubby has just said that I ought to mention the scare with the cashpoint - I think he's still hoping I won't revert to the Sophie/Jocasta topic.
There was a bit of a nail-biting moment at Kathmandu airport, when the FlyDubai check-in staff asked to see the card I paid for the tickets with. I didn't have it because I accidentally cut it up last week (I thought it had expired, but it hadn't - doh!). Thought for a second that they wouldn't let us on the plane, but the nice check-in clerk obviously decided that on the fraudulent/idiotic scale, I obviously tipped the balance towards the idiotic end. She smiled patronisingly at me, as one would at an utter moron with the common sense of a gnat, and waved us all through. Then when we got to Dubai airport neither mine nor Hubby's cards would work in the cashpoint - yikes. Anyway, it's all okay now (hurrah).
Right, I'm off to do a little search to try to find a Gap store in Dubai so Hubby doesn't have to look like a (handsome) tramp this hols xxx
We are all very happy to be here and be away from the stress (in Hubby's case) and raw emotion of the end-of-term-saying-goodbye-to-everyone (in my case). Spent a not inconsiderable time last week saying goodbye to people over lunch/supper. I think I ate at home maybe once last week. Well, it's all over now, the weepy old end of year has come and gone and everyone has hot-footed it back to the UK/US to visit parents and in-laws. However, we have another month to go.
Hubby has just said that I ought to mention the scare with the cashpoint - I think he's still hoping I won't revert to the Sophie/Jocasta topic.
There was a bit of a nail-biting moment at Kathmandu airport, when the FlyDubai check-in staff asked to see the card I paid for the tickets with. I didn't have it because I accidentally cut it up last week (I thought it had expired, but it hadn't - doh!). Thought for a second that they wouldn't let us on the plane, but the nice check-in clerk obviously decided that on the fraudulent/idiotic scale, I obviously tipped the balance towards the idiotic end. She smiled patronisingly at me, as one would at an utter moron with the common sense of a gnat, and waved us all through. Then when we got to Dubai airport neither mine nor Hubby's cards would work in the cashpoint - yikes. Anyway, it's all okay now (hurrah).
Right, I'm off to do a little search to try to find a Gap store in Dubai so Hubby doesn't have to look like a (handsome) tramp this hols xxx
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