the final countdown

Just had my last yoga session. I'd like to say that I'm sad, but frankly it's a relief not to have to go through the humiliation again. However, I did get a bit sad when I went to the blue shop today to do final shop for cartons of milk, Chocos and many bottles of bleach (I'm trying to run down the food before we go. Kids are very dis-chuffed at the lack of anything tasty in the cupboards at the moment - at snack time today I offered cream crackers or cereal bars, and was met with some very underwhelmed expressions). When I got in the car to come home I realised that it would be my last ever trip to the blue shop. Boo Hoo! I don't think I was really upset about the shop, I think it was just symbolic, if that makes sense. Anyway, I couldn't let myself be upset for long as it's not safe to drive with teary eyes out here, you need your wits about you not to mow down dogs/sacred cows/small kids on large bicycles, etc.

We've had final swimming lession, final physiotherapy session, final trip to Thamel and to Patan Durbar Square. Tomorrow will be final speech therapy session and trip to the American Club. I don't think I've yet had my final near-death experience with a manic motorcyclist - quite looking forward to that one, though.

So, we're onto the final countdown (da da der da, da da der da da - oh, surely you remember the supergroup Europe? Where were you in the eighties?) this week. The packers' assessment chap came round this morning and sucked his teeth and fussed about with a tape measure. I'm a little nervous about the packing, because he wouldn't be drawn on how much stuff we have, all he'd say, rather hesitantly, was that we'll have more than eleven cubic metres. I said, but how much more? (We're only entitled to 13 cubic metres, so I'd like to know if I have to make a last minute dash to the post office to post the extras). He wouldn't say. We agreed that he'd pack the horrible white plastic garden furniture last, and then if there isn't enough room we could just leave it behind.

I'm hoping we don't have too many medical dramas this week. Today Twin 1 managed to get her baby finger trapped in Son's bedroom door and has had her hand elevated in a sling to relieve the pressure all afternoon. I have never heard her scream quite so loud, for so long (except when she was a baby and I had to hide in the cellar to escape her wails), poor thing. Even a forbidden cola flavoured lollipop and a trip to the medical centre didn't cheer her up.

Right, running out of battery power and I'm off for a glass of port (there's no wine left, and I felt I couldn't really refuse tasty treats for the kids on the basis that I'm running down the stores, and then buy myself a nice bottle of sauvignon, seemed a bit hypocritical). If you don't hear from me for a while you can assume that it's because I'm either:
a) sobbing into a port-and-rescue-remedy cocktail, or
b) trying to post an entire set of garden furniture through the BFPO system, or
c) taking one of my kids to A&E with broken limb/appendicitis, or
d) all of the above.

Cheerio x

ps - just realised that living here is the longest I have lived anywhere in the past twenty-odd years (since I went to university, in fact). No wonder I'm getting so sad about leaving - bizarrely, Kathmandu is more home than anywhere.