Monday 28 February 2011

star struck

I met a novelist last night, a real one. And a really good one at that - not only has he been published, he has also won prizes. I was just a little bit star struck because, having read both his novels, I know what a great writer he is. Frankly, I would have been far more comfortable sat under the table and occasionally brushing his shoes with my fingertips, rather than actually sat next to him and passing the carrots, but hey ho. Luckily I didn't get too drunk and do anything wierdly sycophantic. Although I secretly wanted to.
Wonder if anyone will ever feel that way about me?

Friday 25 February 2011

you're not too old for a smack...

I think I may have found a solution to the tricky problem of disciplining my children.
I don't smack them (although I do get a bit shouty on occasion), and I don't intend to start. But what should I do when my eldest son really steps over the mark? The answer, it seems, is to threaten to take him shoe shopping. It is, without doubt, more of a punishment than grounding him/sending him to his room (he actually likes being home alone with his imaginary alien friends), or depriving him of sweets & chocolate (he prefers fruit). Shoe shopping, however, is his equivalent of a sound thrashing and being sent to bed without any pudding. I know, because that's what we did this afternoon. I had to bribe him with being able to keep the change from buying said shoes. His money box is now overflowing and he has something to wear on his feet to school next week. At least I know what to mention next time he is winding up his sisters.
For Twin 1 the direst chastisement is removing her Rapunzel hat/wig thing (a woman cheekily knocked it off her head in the street today - whilst we were shoe shopping - and she cried for about ten minutes...so that was two out of three miserable kids on our little retail spree).
Twin 2 is the tricky one. Despite being tiny, cute and disabled, she is hard as nails. The only real punishment for her would be to stop her wearing pink. Or break the bad news that when she grows up she won't really be able to marry big Steve who works in her daddy's office, because he is, in fact, already married to someone else. Perhaps both? "You've been very naughty, so I have to tell you that Steve has a wife in England and I've tossed all your pink skirts in the bin." No, that would be too much. That would really push her over the edge. I'd have to save a double whammy like that for something really heinous.
So if you see me in Clark's with a grumpy boy, one hatless tearful girl and another distraught girl dressed in blue, then you'll know that it's been a really long half term and I'm about to hit the gin.
Hmmm, I think maybe I should write an alternative parenting guide detailing these useful kernels of maternal wisdom...

Wednesday 23 February 2011

ooh

Oooh, how we love the holidays! No, really. Hubby has just brought me a cup of tea in bed, the kids are happily doing some drawing and colouring in their rooms, and I don’t have to think about making hot chocolate and toast for everyone, shouting at them to do their teeth, or running for the school bus. Bliss.

Went to Pokhara for the weekend. If my book every gets published this will be a partially tax-deductable trip as it did involve some essential research. Whilst everyone else was quaffing their (generally forbidden, but used as a bribe to get them up the steps) bottles of Sprite at the top of Sarankot, I was scribbling down notes about what it looked like. I have yet to bung these in chapter 6, where they belong, but at least it made me feel, briefly, like a ‘real’ writer – until I had to fish the portable potty out for Twin 2’s emergency wee (can’t imagine Ian McEwan ever having to do that, can you?).

The handbag with the special portable potty pouch has finally broken (perhaps it was that emergency wee at Sarankot that did it), so I had to go and buy myself a Jimmy Choo handbag in one of the shops on Lakeside. Well, I think it says Jimmy Choo. Maybe it actually says Jmi Chow – do you think it could possibly be a fake?

I suppose I should probably apologise for not being in touch for a whole week. It’s just that now I have someone to watch DVDs with in the evening, and make me put the light out at 10pm, I don’t somehow get round to my late-night rambles.

Twins are going round to their friend’s for a sleepover tonight. I pity the poor mother, the lovely M. I don’t think she quite knows what she’s got herself into. I have had her daughter round for sleepovers here before a couple of times, but that’s easy peasy. It’s just like having triplets for one night and there’s an extra bowl to wash up at breakfast…not sure M is prepared for the maelstrom that is my pesky daughters, so good luck to her.

Son has just come in to show me a picture of an underground alien city he’s created. There are special small tunnels for the alien pets. Remember when you were growing up and you had an imaginary friend (you didn’t? hmm, you must have been much more popular than me). My son has an imaginary galaxy containing an imaginary solar system, and an imaginary planet, with imaginary continents, cities, and even an imaginary language. He tests me on these things occasionally. When I went to the hairdresser the other day I had a message in ’cijerian’ that I was tasked to decode. Other people go to read out-of-date issues of Heat, whilst their highlights are taking. I get to translate an imaginary alien language…I failed, because I held the decoding strip upside down (and I never got to find out who Jennifer Anniston was dating in 2008 or what the must-have lip glosses were from autumn 2007, shame).

Not sure when you’ll get this as the internet is off. Which also means I’ll have a day without finding out what half-forgotten friends are doing via Facebook (why is it so fascinating to discover that someone you haven’t spoken to in twenty four years had too much to drink last night or is happy about the cricket? I don’t know, either, but I’m a bit addicted at the moment).

Maybe if I get some spare time, today, I’ll write some more of the book, instead of doing online procrastination, as usual. Feel a bit bad for my heroine, though, as it is all about to go horribly wrong for her (turns out that her dad doesn’t want to know, her boyfriend is married, etc. poor thing. We’ll sympathise, and she’ll emerge stronger and triumphant by the closing scene, don’t worry).

Oh, I should really get up now, shouldn’t I….

Monday 14 February 2011

happy valentine's x

The good news is that someone is lending me a Jack Sparrow wig so that I can go for the full 'pirates of the caribbean' experience when Hubby returns. The bad news is...oh, hang on a minute I've done this good news/bad news thing before. There is no bad news today! Except that I'm on my third large gin (well, I'm all alone and it's Valentine's, so hey), so I'm anticipating a mild hangover tomorrow. However, I'm only getting a haircut, so I hardly need to be on the ball.
Ah, I've just been perusing the old school site on facebook and listening to my playlist (which seems to consist mainly of the Cure and, wierdly, Neil Diamond) and feeling drunkenly nostalgic. Not sure why, really, as - judging by the photos - the past was a time of dodgy haircuts. And going from my memories, seemed to involve a fair amount of snakebite-and-black and inappropriate public fondling.
Can't wait until my kids are teenagers and I have to take them seriously when they have dire haircuts and complain endlessly about being 'misunderstood'.
My friend M says her husband adopted her a panda for Valentine's. I think this is actually quite sweet. At least pandas don't die, like roses do (or hopefully they don't, once you have forked out on adoption papers and everything).
I'm tempted to take Gary to bed with me tonight because he's a big hairy lump who would make a perfectly reasonable pretend valentine (not in any wierd way, I just mean to have something to fill up the space on the other side of the bed). However, I'm not sure even Jack Sparrow would be happy with fleas in the bed.
Better get a move on and get up to bed, I suppose, before the over-zealous night guard switches the generator off and I'm plunged into darkness.
Goodnight x

Friday 11 February 2011

literary dogging?

Hurrah, my heroine has at last snogged her man. It took until page 100 to get there, but she's done it. Now she just has to find her dad and live happily ever after (except, of course, it won't be that easy. Oh, dear me no, it will all go down hill after page 110 and not come good again until about page 200). I was sitting in my living room this morning and I just couldn't settle down to writing the snogging scenes (haven't actually tackled sex scene - what if it gets published and my mother reads it?), so I went out to a Japanese cafe and suddenly the words flowed. Somehow or other it is easier to write steamy scenes in a public place, it seems - is this the literary equivalent of dogging?

Hubby (aka Jack Sparrow) says he has been cleaning bilges all day. I'd like to feel sorry for him. I'm really trying to empathise...Nope, can't do it.

Now, the other exciting news I have been meaning to tell you is that Bryan Adams is coming to Kathmandu next week. All the Canadians are very excited (all three of them). I think the only thing that could make them more excited would be if the Canadian ice hockey team arrived. Everyone is going to see him. Well, everyone except me, apparently. I used to like Bryan Adams...but that was when I was sixteen. He must be pushing sixty now, surely? I think there's so much wild excitement because nobody famous ever comes to Kathmandu (well, Geri Halliwell came out as a UN ambassador the other year, but I'm not sure if that counts). The thing is, I remember, aeons ago, being in South Africa not long after the end of apartheid when UB40 came to play. Everyone was going because this was post-apartheid SA and UB40 were (are?) a 'mixed race' group, etc. And I remember thinking that I didn't actually really like UB40 and wouldn't ever go and see them in the UK, but got peer-pressured into it because everyone would be there. You know what? They really weren't very good, probably because the only people who could afford tickets were rich whites, and the stadium was almost empty. Now I might be wrong, but I have a sneaking suspicion that it may be a similar story here with Bryan Adams (despite the fact that everywhere he goes, the kids want to rock)...
It's ten to ten. Is that too late to start a DVD? It is, isn't it. Okay, I'll just finish my gin and go to bed then. x

Thursday 10 February 2011

rose and thorn

Hello. Good news and bad news, which do you want first?
Okay, the bad news is that we have probably lost wads of cash now the company that was managing our UK property has gone bankrupt.
The good news is that I have a place on the creative writing masters course at Notts uni (although now I feel bad about doing it as I ought to be earning money to make up for the amount we have lost to the fraudsters).
The other good news is that it's finally getting warmer and sunnier and the pool was thirty degrees when we went swimming today.
See what I did there? Two positives to outweigh the negative. Apparently that's what President Obama does with his family each evening - he calls it 'rose and thorn', and you are supposed to have two roses for each thorn. And to put it into perspective, his thorn is probably a darn sight bigger than mine. I mean today his is that the US has the highest terrorist threat since 9/11, and mine is just that we'll have to put off the next family holiday for a bit.

So perhaps I should just list some more 'roses' to make me feel better:

1. Twin 2 has learnt to say the letter 'l' even though her UK speech therapist said last summer that she would probably never be able to articulate it;
2. I can claim the VAT back on all my recent Amazon purchases, so just think how much money that has saved;
3. Hubby is back on Tuesday.

See, reasons to be cheerful...1,2,3

I'm off to find gin and chocolate now. x

Tuesday 8 February 2011

drama, trauma and nowhere near enough chocolate

I'm waiting for a man in the UK to finish his lunch break, so I can give him a call...hey ho for different time zones. Hopefully his lunch will be finished by my bed time.

Corrie at mine last night and jolly good it was too. Well, actually it was a bit traumatic - had to eat lots of sushi and choc biccies and drink lots of wine to get over the upsetting bits. Molly and Ashley are already dead, and it looks like Peter Barlow is on his way out (I will have to wait until next week to find if he cops it or not). I was somewhat disappointed that they did not take the opportunity to clear out a bit more dead wood (Dev has to go sometime, surely? And why on earth is Gail still in it, all she does is purse her lips and upset everyone).

So, anyway, I went to bed traumatised, and then woke up to yet more drama, as it turns out that our property management company has, in fact, gone bankrupt (had my suspicions). Don't think we have lost as much money as some others, but we are probably down about one month's worth of living expenses, or flights for five to Dubai, depending on how you view it.

The MoD is washing its hands of the affair, claiming never to have endorsed this forces property management business. However, the company did have a military phone number, offices in an army barracks and posters up in army welfare offices throughout the country and abroad, which I think any reasonable person would agree is tantamount to endorsement.
Someone is setting up a self-help/pressure group, but it remains to be seen whether there is any of our money to get back (I suspect not, but it's worth a try).

And because I've been fretting about that all day, I haven't actually done much writing - my heroine still hasn't either found her estranged father or snogged the love interest, the poor thing, she must be getting pretty desperate.

What I really need right now is a Cadbury's chocolate flake to go with my white wine (somehow Meena's chocolate rice crispy cakes just don't hit the spot).

Okay, must go and phone a man about a house...

Sunday 6 February 2011

Hitler at the gate?

Our guard has changed his hairstyle and grown a diddy moustache. I was wondering why I found his new look both familiar and disconcerting, when I suddenly realised that he has morphed into a Nepali version of Adolph Hitler. And I suppose this shouldn't worry me, as he's probably too busy opening gates and turning the generator on and and off to do anything rash, like invade Poland.

Hubby just called on Skype. Couldn't really hear him, though, because of the sound of music (I mean, the sound of the bar stereo, not the von Trapp family) and tropical birds in the background. He's obviously having a tough time of it on his adventure training exercise.

Last night I had two other children in the house, so I was in charge of three five-year-olds and two eight-year-olds. I decided that the sensible thing to do would be to finish off the open bottle of wine in the fridge and spend a little time with my good friend Mr Ebay (it's been a while, you know). Shall have to do big wardrobe clear out this week to make some space...

Today my friend M took pity on my sailing widow status and invited us round for roast lamb. Unbelievably tasty (in fact, so much tastier than anything Meena ever cooks us, that I am just about to book her on another cooking course).

Twins are now bored of Raiders of the Lost Ark DVD (Son's choice tonight), so I shall have to go upstairs and read a book about kittens or fairies instead of watching a young Harrison Ford, Boo!
Take care, x

Saturday 5 February 2011

I'm far too busy drinking white wine and buying nice tops on ebay to write anything at all tonight x

Friday 4 February 2011

ps

ps - Hubby apparently in Barbados now, but because they had to do a lot of sailing to get there, he is now too tired to go out. The poor little lamb!

hairy triplet likes a nugget or two

The hairy triplet has gone out tonight (I bribed him with a couple of chicken nuggets).

Today has been another fairly unproductive one as Twin 1 has been off sick with tummy bug (not even going to attempt to spell diarrhoea). I wouldn't have believed she was ill, had I not seen, and flushed, the evidence, as she was irritatingly perky. I managed to type up one scene (heroine on the way to find Dad, thinking it's all going to be great...she's about to be sorely disappointed, but no need to tell her as I probably won't get around to writing it until the middle of next week, okay), but then the charlie and the chocolate factory DVD finished so we had to do some Barbie sewing and then some colouring in. So the manuscript has not progressed much further. Boo.

Luckily, though, Twin 1 was well enough to come out for lunch at Cafe U. She was also well enough to nag me to get to school in time to watch the 'music miscellany' assembly. How we love it when the music teacher exhorts the parents to stand up and join in, especially when the song has a soaring chorus and - joy of joys - actions.

This evening for supper I decided to be kind to my kids and let them eat chicken nuggets and chips, for a change. Nobody was very hungry. I noticed Gary eyeing the supper table with a hairy smile on his furry chops. He was in luck, the blighter. Still, at least he's outside tonight, rather than tucked up next to the Barbie basket with his nose up his bottom.

Suddenly feel really tired, so I'm going to scoot off now, and try not to have slightly traumatic dreams about being forced to stand up and sing in assembly.
Toodle pip x

Thursday 3 February 2011

ps. Hubby texted me this morning to let me know that he was on the way to Barbados. I got the text whilst I was on the way to the loo (for the fifth time in twenty minutes), and it took all my strength, loyalty and memories of cashmere not to be at all bitter!

is geriatric shagging procrastination?

This morning I saw a little boy being taken to school on an elephant. I also saw the blind leading the blind (quite literally: two blokes with white sticks wobbling along the middle of the street - good job they didn't connect with the elephant). I was on my way back from doing the morning school run. Sometimes I'm so wrapped up with being a mum, I forget that I'm in Kathmandu, but things like this remind me that I'm thousands of miles from the nearest Tescos/TK Maxx/McDonald's.
When I got home from school run, I meant to have a productive day writing, but ended up sleeping. All morning. I've had yet another tummy bug (luckily only evacuating from one end this time), and couldn't quite make getting the kids on the school bus at 7.30, but I did manage to take enough cramp suppressants & painkillers etc. to drive them to school for 8.30. However, by the time I got home again I felt spectacularly rubbish. I thought about what Hubby would say, and decided he would tell me to just go to bloody bed. So I did. And I slept for three hours - exactly the three hours when I should have been finishing chapter 6. Bummer! Think my plan of finishing the manuscript by the Easter hols is doomed to failure...

I have triplets tonight, except one of them is much hairier than the other two. Yes, Gary has decided to sleep in with the Twins, and who am I to argue with him? Well, would you argue with a tired Tibetan Mastiff? Nope, me neither.

Do you think I should write some of the novel now (I could try to sort out the rest of chapter 6 before bed time), or read an Alan Bennett short story about geriatric shagging that a friend has just recommended?

I am angling towards geriatric shagging...but perhaps that's just procrastination.

Wednesday 2 February 2011

exciting silicone

Managed to get quite excited about buying silicone lasagne dish on Amazon this evening. Not quite as thrilling as buying the cheese slicer, but almost. Wonder if Hubby has made it to Dominica yet? Do you think this is how our marriage will finally drift apart - not by either of us having an affair or anything, but with our radically different ideas as to what constitutes excitement. For him, it's yachting in tropical waters, whereas for me, it's the whiff of fresh silicone as I open my Amazon packaging. Do you think we are doomed?
At least I managed to get a bit of writing done today. Not as much as I should have, but at least I managed to keep my pen moving and not fall asleep, so I did better than yesterday. I had a late school pick up and decided to treat myself to reflexology at the Japanese place. I had one chap on each foot, for an hour, which should have been bliss, but was actually really, really painful as the man who had my right foot had horribly poky fingers with long fingernails. He probably thought he was being therapeutic and thorough, but he just made me nearly cry with pain. Felt so traumatised after the massage that I had to go and buy myself an overpriced bar of chocolate before I picked the kids up (and then quickly dispose of the wrapper so that they didn't get huffy for not getting any chocolate themselves). I have been eating a huge amount recently. It's all these meals out. And Meena's biscuits are quite nice this week (has she started secretly using her 'taste powder' again, I wonder?). Perhaps I should start putting my bleach mouthguard in earlier, like, before supper time?
Anyway, I have a date with nice Sue and Giles now, so I shall have to go.
Goodnight xxx

Tuesday 1 February 2011

Tuesday, not in the Caribbean

Hello. Hubby is on his way from St Lucia to Dominica. Or somewhere. Good for him. I'm perfectly happy to be tucked up in bed in my fleece and socks and with my teeth-bleaching mouthguard in. Honest.
My social life seems to have taken an upwards turn since Hubby left. I was invited out to lunch on Sunday, and supper last night and this evening (chicken pie followed by sticky toffee pudding - might have to send Meena over there for some cooking lessons), and I've just had a text asking me out tomorrow too. It's all a bit much for me, especially as I had planned the next two weeks of solitude with a box set of Kitchen Confidential and my teeth-bleaching kit (it's good to have a mouthguard in whilst watching Kitchen Confidential, otherwise you just spend the whole episode eating stuff). I think I may even have to politely decline tomorrow's thing. Although will that make me seem like an antisocial old witch? Hmmm...
Last night was Corrie night, the first one for a couple of months. It was the 50th anniversary celebration one, with a gas explosion and a tram crash (not sure quite what's so celebratory about axing half the actors and subjecting he audience to a night of graphic horror, but hey). We're wondering who has really copped it, and who will escape, charred and coughing, from the Coronation Street carnage. I know, everyone in the UK has known this for a couple of months, but good old British Forces Broadcasting welfare discs are always a few weeks behind. I can hardly wait for next week's installment. What's even better is that my co-watchers, a couple of teachers from the school, are coming here for next week's viewing. Brilliant. It will be like a royal visit for the kids to have Mrs L and Miss K at our house for supper. They'll probably want to have bunting and balloons and will be impossible to put to bed (my kids that is, not Miss K and Mrs L - although I wouldn't put it past them.
Taking of which...I'm v. v. tired tonight because Twin 2 was awake half the night last night with random bad dreams/feeling cold/feeling thirsty/having a hurting injection arm etc. I tried to write some more of the NGN this morning, but I kept falling asleep. Scene three, in chapter five (where she thinks she's finally going to find her Dad, but is yet again frustrated) is just a series of scrawls turning into wobbly lines where I actually nodded off half way through a sentence. Oh well, must keep at it. I think my heroine would be deeply unhappy with me if she never found her estranged father, and never got it on with the hunky man who has been helping her search for him.
Okay, I'm off now to watch Giles Coren and Sue Perkins live the Good Life. I love them both so much I want to marry them, for real life (as Twin 2 would say). So, not missing Hubby at all. I have Sue and Giles to keep me company. Night then x