leeaaaving on a jet plane

Saturday night: me and the kids watched Dr Who in front of a gas fire - very seventies. I was idly surfing for diamante shoes on Amazon at the same time, which is slightly less seventies - although, now I think of it, diamante shoes are actually quite seventies. I didn't buy any though. Decided that the Gurkha Fantasy Bollywood Ball will just have to make do with the silver strappy things I bought for a fiver in Peacock's sale about three years ago, because they're still going strong. The Gurkha Fantasy Bollywood Ball looks like it will also be quite a seventies affair. The poster promises a raffle and bingo - classy, no? (Wonder if they will have prawn cocktail for starters, chicken kiev for main, and black forest gateau for pud?) However I did satisfy my lust for retail therapy by buying toothbrushes for the children.

Hubby, meanwhile was en route to the Caribbean, oh yes, he's leeaaaviiing on a jet plane, don't know when he'll be back again (actually I do know, it's February 15th, which handily gets him out of having to do anything for Valentine's Day). Didn't have a chance to be upset about him leeaaaving on a jet plane this morning though, because as soon as he'd gone I had to whisk the kids of to playdate/birthday party. Twins had a party at K's house. K's parents are a German count and a Mongolian princess, respectively. Or so the rumour goes. I asked them, and K's mum said she would have been a princess if the communists hadn't abolished royalty some seventy-odd years ago. K's dad didn't fess up to being a count, either, although he did say his great-grandad was the founder of Deutsche Bank. I wracked my brains to think of some equally impressive ancestry in my family, but I think we were all pretty much impoverished scum. Apparently I do have great grandmother Redette's nose, though, and she was french, if that counts? I suspect she was impoverished scum french, though, so probably not...

K's parents (the count and the princess) have a weekend retreat up in the Everest region that used to belong to Sir Edmund Hillary. After a few glasses of wine K's dad said maybe we should all go up there and visit sometime. I murmured something about not wanting to fly into Lukla airstrip (also known as the cursed airport of death), and he said, oh no, you don't need to worry about that, we have our own airstrip for the house.

Naturally. Who wouldn't?

just a little bit bitey

And they are still not answering! I suspect there's a woman with pink lipstick on the other end of the line, listening to my polite-but-irate messages, sticking the Vs up at the answer phone and saying "Sod off, darling, I am having a fag!". Or maybe they have gone bankrupt? Oh joy.

Twin 1 bit Son the other day. He'd stolen one of her chocolates and ate it, and she was so angry she just had to bite him, hard, on the side of his tummy. That'll teach him to mess with her. We weren't sure who to be angry with...In his defence Son said in an outraged voice, 'But I'm an eight year old boy, I'm supposed to be mean to my little sister!". In her defence, Twin 1 burst into tears and looked guilty.

Not sure why I suddenly thought of this? Perhaps because thinking about our letting agents makes me also feel just a little bit bitey.

tax!

Trying to get tax return done before Hubby goes off on his Caribbean sailing trip. He keeps telling me it's WORK, and I'm trying to be loyal about it (still thinking of the cashmere), but really...anyway, I have sent a brusque email to our letting agents saying we need to have our account statement right now as my husband is off on a training exercise tomorrow, so we have to get our tax return done before he goes. They haven't replied, and they are not answering the phone either, so I think Hubby's WORK in the Caribbean may end up a tad expensive, when we get our irate letter from the tax man.

Right, I'm off to do shirty phone call to letting agents, will write more in a bit...

will the misery never end?

I should have stayed up in the frozen peaks. It's great to be back, but I think the advantage of being so cold up there was that it killed all the germs. Now I'm back and have had horrible tummy bug thing. You know, when you're on the loo, clutching a bucket, evacuating from both ends, and just wishing it would all end.

Too much info? Soz.

Was feeling slightly better this morning (hurrah for Ciprofloxicin), so ventured onto camp, only to be accosted by the welfare officer who made me agree to write a piece on our trek for the families' newsletter. I was so weak with nausea I would have agreed to swimming the Bagmati, just to get rid of him and get back into bed. Contemplated penning something about cold boobs, but decided that the good families of British Gurkhas Nepal are not quite ready for an essay on frozen nipples, just yet.

So I returned to my sick bed to write a witty little piece for the newsletter. Well, I attempted to be witty, but I think I might just come across as pathetic. Ho hum, never mind.

Sorry this has ended up being a post about poo again. That's quite enough of this lavatorial conversation! as my mother was fond of saying.

I promise not to talk about poo next time!

Take care xxx

warm nipples

I don't have frostbitten nipples! I didn't plummet off an icy precipice into a rocky ravine! I didn't wee on my feet in the nice Asian (hole in the ground) toilets (well, maybe once, but it was very cold and froze immediately so it didn't smell at all)! I didn't fall out with any of my friends! Furthermore, after eight days plodding up and down icy steps for six hours a day in sub-zero temperatures...I didn't actually lose any weight (perhaps I should have held back on the deep-fried Mars Bar?)!

Annapurna Base Camp trek is supposed to be moderately challenging, but the addition of snow and freezing fog made it, erm...really challenging (well, for me, at least). Anyway, I'm back, and lovely Hubby even bought be a cashmere wrap top as a coming home present (it's a sad indication of how much I frequent the cashmere shop that when he tried to buy the surprise gift off-the-shelf, the proprietor told him that I would need one two inches longer in the sleeves and at the waist, so it had to be specially made). I will try not to diss him for at least a week as he has been lovely.

So happy to be home; I am never going away again!

yikes!

One of the nice mums in the playground offered me her washable breast pads for trekking. Very generous offer, but I do in fact have a hideous red lace padded thing, which gives a nice Diana Dors - style silhouette (although actually much smaller - my boobs aren't that big). Did you know that my sister once sold Diana Dors a pair of flip-flops? I know, I'm practically a celebrity. If I was in the UK I could get in touch with the editor of Heat and I'd be on "I'm a celebrity.." or whatever is on the telly these days, before you could say "D-list no mark". Anyway, I'm not, so I shall be doing the Nepali version of being 'lost' in the jungle, which involves being lost up the Himalayas instead. It's not the endless walking up steps into even thinner air, or the weeing in revolting holes in the ground, or even spending a week without my lovely family. It's just the prospect of cold nipples that makes me nervous... I should probably stop talking about nipples now, shouldn't I? Soz.

Kids have some friends round for a play date. I'm keeping out of the way of the horror. Luckily Twin 2 has only fallen over and bumped her head once so far. It's all getting increasingly manic and shouty now, though. Think I'll stay in hiding a bit longer...

Packing all done. Might have a stiff drink after supper so that I can sleep tonight. Transport at seven tomorrow morning.

Better be good mother and go and check on kids' welfare, I suppose.

Cheerio x

ps - Just in case the next week involves a Himalayan plane crash/earthquake/avalanche (delete as appropriate), thanks for reading the blog and it was nice knowing you! xxx

Fun Dad!

Hello chaps, Wednesday night: kids in bed, dreaming about Star Trek and Barbie respectively; Hubby in Pokhara, about halfway through his third whisky chaser, I'll wager - and here I am, keeping my touch typing skills up to speed (you never know when I'll have to fall back on them as a career option, as obviously my career path is looking ever less like an exponential curve upwards and more like a bit of a downward spiral every day. Career path - pah! What am I even talking about? Since when has an army wife ever had a career?).

Just read a thingy on the BBC website about how appalling customer service is in the UK. And I was moved to respond in one of the little boxes where you can post a comment. Anyone who thinks customer service is bad in Britain should try living in Kathmandu, I remarked chippily. Well, no, I didn't mean literally, as that would hardly be practical, would it? To have every single person who moans about a surly teenager serving them in McDonald's suddenly selling off their worldly possessions and hopping on a plane to Nepal. That wouldn't work, would it? Unless they did a swapsie and an equivalent number of Nepalis jumped on a flight to London (where they would be flabbergasted at the cleanliness, politeness, etc. Yes, even London compares favourably to Kathmandu!). Okay, you're right, it would never work. A little bit of blue sky thinking there...

Blue sky, that reminds me...Oh, yes, I'm off on a trek on Saturday, hurrah!

I'm doing the Annapurna Base Camp with four friends (whether they will still be my friends after a week of me moaning about the steep hills and lack of decent hot chocolate is another matter) and I will be away from home for nearly nine days. The kids can't blooming wait, the disloyal little critters. They say it will be great to spend a week with Fun Dad, because apparently he will be so much fun! He will be fun all week! Even after work when he is really tired and stressed and has to listen to two very slow and boring reading books from five-year-olds, wipe one five-year-old bottom, hear all about an imaginery galaxy known only to one hyperactive eight-year-old, make three packed lunches, pack three school bags with the right stuff, say nice things to the cook and the housekeeper, and make some bread so everyone can have toast for breakfast, he'll still be so much FUN!

No pressure there, then, Daddy.

The other day Twin 1 told me that Daddy was FUN, and I wasn't, but I was NICE. Is this what you'd call Damning with faint praise?

Personally I gave up the 'fun' tag several years ago, and am happy just to stick with ...erm...being around if someone hurts themselves and stuff label.

Off to Thamel tomorrow to buy down slippers so I don't get frost-bitten toes (oh, you think I'm joking? I'm also going to be wearing my padded bra all next week, and not because I want to look slinky up in the Himalayas, but because the pain of cold nipples is something I cannot even begin to describe to you, and I will do anything in my power to mitigate it).

Right, off to make a nice strong hot toddy and boot the dog out.

Night then xxx

life's u-bend continues...

Hello, here I am, still in bed, stuck in life's u-bend. I haven't been here all the time since Thursday, although the whole three quilts thing does make it tempting. However I did manage to get a semi-lie in today, by persuading the Twins to get into bed and listen to me reading them Pippi Longstocking, but by nine in the morning, they were both saying, "But Mummy we are really hungry for breakfast", so I had to leave the warmth and security of the three quilts behind.

Friday night was lovely M's birthday, went out for a meal. Hubby stayed behind, muttering darkly about being lonely - can't think why, as he would have been fast asleep by the time we even ordered our starters. He's generally snoring by 8.30 pm these days.

Today, after the semi-lie-in, I took the kids out so that Hubby could do a spot of MBA work. But where to take kids on a Sunday morning? Settled on the organic market at the Moksh bar - it was like a little slice of Portobello Road transported to Kathmandu: posh hippies, world music, chunky jewellery stalls and overpriced organic fare. We bought organic Polish sausage for our lunch, which looked quite nice, cost lots, but actually tasted a bit rank. Still, at least Gary was happy with his lunch for a change, as he got the leftovers (he has been very sniffy about his food these days, ever since we changed his diet from buff mince and rice to dry dog food), he even broke into a trot on the way to his bowl, which, for a dog of his size and laziness, is quite something. The last time I saw him that animated was when he 'ran' away (I use the term 'ran' quite loosely here, it was more of a nifty amble) up the road, on a mission to bite the yappy dog next door who wears a coat (I'm quite sad he didn't succeed, actually, as I think the spoilt little canine misfit could only benefit from a big chunk of flesh being gnawed from his back by an irritated Tibetan mastiff).

This afternoon we went swimming. Yes, I know, in the middle of winter! The cover was over and the water was twenty eight degrees, apparently (I'm not sure if that's true as I was too much of a chicken to get in myself - think I'll wait until it's also twenty eight degrees outside the pool before I think about donning a bikini). So, the swimming season is back on, and it was a great excuse for me to do some Amazon shopping this evening, because of course all my little darlings will now need new swimsuits and towelling robes, so I could spend lots of money and not feel remotely guilty because it was all for the children.

Um bum, it's quarter past ten and I really should be asleep...it's a school day tomorrow, you know!

Goodnight xxx

three-quilts-thursday

Hello! I'm here, in bed and it's not even half past eight. Tonight is three-quilts Thursday. The rest of the house is an ice box, so bed is the only reasonable place to be. Hubby has been sleeping in his arctic sleeping bag for the last couple of nights and complaining endlessly about the cold. So tonight we are like the Princess and the pea and having three quilts (it's very warm under the covers, but heavy - think I will wake up with pins and needles all over in the morning).

It is depressingly cold at night, but I also believe Hubby may be stuck in the u-bend of life. There is a story in the Economist that explains the global phenomenon of the u-bend of life. This is a dip in happiness that occurs, in every country and culture, in middle age. The bottom of the dip is mid-forties. That's where Hubby is. Stuck in the u-bend with his arctic sleeping bag and insomniac tendencies. And it'll be me soon, no doubt (although the research in the article claimed that women were generally happier, although more prone to depression - go figure).

Last night I went to a 50th birthday dinner. I didn't really know anyone there, apart from the woman whose birthday it was. And nobody else seemed to know anyone that well either, so we all ended up talking about our dogs, like Barbara Woodhouse wannabees (perhaps that's the way to deal with the u-bend of life, get a dog?). We had all brought little gifts and played this strange game whereby all the gifts go in the middle and you each take a number, then you get to choose a present to open when it's your number or, even better, take an already-opened present off someone else. I somehow ended up with a cheery plastic elephant with dollar signs in his ears. I think this is supposed to bring me wealth if I place it facing a door on a Tuesday afternoon with the sound of rushing water to the left of it. Or something. Decided to give it to Twin 2 in lieu of pocket money.

I also discovered something interesting about the lovely party hostess. She has her own personal Nepali astrologer. She says all Nepalis have an astrologer so she's got herself one as well (when I told Hubby, he said, I bet that astrologer is laughing all the way to the bank - I think that life's u-bend does make you a little bit cynical about such things). I have never had a personal astrologer, and I'm certain that my smashing husband would be appalled if I even suggested such a thing (even getting him to go for a Japanese massage was a struggle, with the unspoken implication that it was girly new-age nonsense). However, I used to read Mystic Meg every Sunday in hmmm, can't even remember which sleazy red-top it was now - possibly News of the World - and her advice was always sound. She'd say things like, "The moon in Venus tells me you must wear green on Wednesday and beware of a man in a red car". Now, that is the kind of decent astrological advice I like. I wonder if Mystic Meg is still around, and if she lives in a dark purple room filled with cats? Perhaps she could be called upon to give Hubby some advice about navigating the u-bend of life. She could say something like, "The moon in Uranus tells me that you must put three quilts on the bed on a Thursday, and beware of brown splodges on the road".

Tomorrow is the last day of the school holidays!

xxx

Happy 2011!

What can I say? The laptop has been constantly hijacked for viewings of the Christmas Grinch and Elf, furthermore the internet connection has been pants recently. Anyway, I'm still here and haven't been spirited off to wherever it is that Sunil the tailor disappears to (actually I think he's in Munich with some German fashionistas at the moment, and I'm definitely not there - in fact I think Nepal is Germany's evil twin, in that it's the polar opposite of everything teutonic: no road rules, no nice parks and a real dearth of decent cakes and beer). At the moment the Twins are dancing to Tarzan Boy and Son is engrossed in a Percy Jackson book, so I think I'll take a moment to tell you about our exciting xmas, during which:

1. Santa came, ate chocolate biscuits (how odd that he shares my dislike of mince pies) and left again;
2. We watched the Christmas Grinch and Elf and Miracle on 34th Street;
3. We went to The Famous Farm (which, best as I can tell, is famous for it's high prices and remoteness, as much as anything else - Hubby whinged about the cost and lack of amenities for most of the trip, but the kids had a good time. Mind you, they will have a good time anywhere that has a laptop and a suppy of Percy Jackson books) for the New Year.
4. Hubby and I celebrated our 13th wedding anniversary with a Japanese massage
5. Twin 2 tried, and failed, to end it all with a scary xmas eve head injury

Loads of other stuff happened too, of course, but it mainly involved eating or watching DVDs or going to cafes or making me put the Christ deBurgh Christmas spaceman song on the MP3 player for the millionth time (still, made a chance from Little Donkey, which was beginning to make me a teensy bit suicidal).

Only five days until kids are back at school, and it hasn't been nearly as soul-destroyingly tedious as I'd feared, so hurrah for that.

My new year's resolution is to write this blog more often!

Will write more later I promise xxx