Pool on camp still closed, so yet another sunny day, and yet another million pounds spent going to hotel pool (the wholemeal ladies had gone, and the pool attendant was back). Son tried very hard to swim, but didn't quite manage it, despite me rather rashly promising an aquarium in his bedroom if he did. Twin 2 wobbled about courting head injuries and giving me a cardiac as usual. 

Later, after lunch and two DVDs, I decided it was time I put the effort into being a good mum and turned the telly off, promising a game of hide-and-seek. I hid, they sought. I took my book with me (The Crow Road by Iain Banks; it's v.good so far) and managed to get through around seventy pages over the course of the afternoon - I'm not that good at hiding (I spent most of the time either behind the sofa or in my own bed), but they are truly pants at seeking. Son eventually gave up and went off to play frisbee over the fence with the kids next door. 

Meena the cook is slightly less lugubrious today, as I have promised her a bread-maker. She even made a joke about me getting fat on her choc chip cookies, which made Hubby laugh rather too heartily for my liking (also this comment is a bit rich coming from her, as she is pretty much a cottage loaf with Tibetan colouring - not sure how she puts any weight on, as she seems to be permanently on a religious fast, which I don't think is a particularly good sign, having a cook who doesn't actually eat). However, she did roll her eyes when I asked her to make us a cup of tea after supper, but reluctantly agreed to do it because it was what 'Saheb' (aka Hubby) wanted. She's taken a shine to 'Saheb' as he's constantly telling her how lovely her cooking is and how rubbish mine is, and laughing at her oh-so-amusing quips about the size of my thighs. The traitor. Nothing is too much trouble for Saheb, but if Memsaheb (me*) wants a cup of tea, or her cook to make bread it's all suddenly a little bit difficult. Anyway, I've just ordered a massive amount of bread-mix, and someone is lending me their bread-maker (ironically it's the family Meena's husband cooks for - he refuses to use a bread maker as he prides himself in making his own bread, pasta, and choux pastry. Oh yes. Shame he can't give his wife a few cooking tips...), so hopefully there'll be a bit less of the eye-rolling pathos soon.

*Yes, I am a memsaheb. Yes it is a colonial hangover. No, I don't feel especially guilty about it, but not sure whether I should?

found my mojo!

Found my mojo! There it was, in a reflexology and shiatsu place next to a trendy Japanese cafe. I also found a jolly nice green and blue glass necklace thingy in the shop above the cafe. So gin and brownies no longer required. 

The pool has been closed for the last three days, which means the weather has been fabulous. The pool opens again tomorrow, so I am confidently expecting a good old monsoon downpour all day. 

We've had to drive to a nearby hotel for the last three days and pay pots of cash to swim there. It's the same hotel where I had the grumpy beauty treatments the other week, so I've been half-expecting the toad woman to be lurking poolside, but luckily haven't caught sight of her so far. 

They had an organic food fair next to the pool today, so the place was surrounded by wholemeal looking women munching earnestly on gritty buns. And it was the lifeguard's day off. I mentioned to the receptionist that I was going to the pool with three non-swimmers, but nobody seemed too concerned. I suppose if we got into trouble someone could just toss in an organic muffin for us to use an improvised buoyancy aid. Or alternatively the toad woman could whip out of the beauty parlour and flick out her fly-catching tongue to rescue my drowning offspring. Luckily we were all ok, so neither cake nor tongue had to be employed on this occasion.

Went into camp this afternoon so kids could be suitably impressed when Hubby showed them the concrete pour on part of 'his' new water treatment works. They managed to look interested for at least thirty seconds, and then we all went to the canteen to get crisps and pop and then went to watch the some other soldiers playing basketball (the latter was entirely their idea and had nothing whatsoever to do with me wanting to brighten up my day by watching fit men in shorts).

I am better now, although seem to have temporarily mislaid my mojo...perhaps I left it in the ladies at Kilroy's restaurant on Friday night. There was a plaque in the loo dedicating the toilet to a Mrs Susan McGraw. It was very much like the plaques you see on wooden benches at sights of scenic interest, you know, "For Grandad, who so liked to sit here on summer evenings," etc. Except that it was in a toilet in Kathmandu. The sign didn't elaborate much, it just said it was for Susan. Personally, I would have liked a bit more detail, eg "For Susan, who used to come here to escape tedious chit chat of her husband's boring work mates", or maybe "For Susan, who so suffered from irritable bowel syndrome" or perhaps "For dear Susan, who enjoyed our curries a little too much.". Did she donate money so that the restaurant could provide customers with a proper sit-down lavvie, rather than the local squat down ones? Bless her heart if she did. But could it be that it is really more of a memorial, and that she passed away whilst passing wind. I hope not. It's a big mystery. As much of a mystery as my missing mojo. I have just looked for it in a chocolate brownie (which was a bit soggy and undercooked, but I don't have the heart to mention it to Meena, as my demands of homemade bread are apparently playing havoc with her arthritis, and I don't want to tip her over the edge) but it wasn't there, so I think I may try looking at the bottom of a glass of gin and tonic. Will let you know if I have any luck xxx

Have got the lurgy. Luckily not the same one as the girls. Hubby thought I was being a wimp yesterday when I elected not to go to circuits (have done no exercise for more than two months now and given Meena a recipe for chocolate brownies, so whole thing is beginning to take its toll on my considerably-more-than-ample thighs) as I was feeling a bit dizzy. But today I have been utterly spaced out and useless, well, more so than usual. Even hoovering up four chocolate brownies hasn't made me feel much better. Hope this doesn't last as it is seriously interfering with shopping/swimming/finding nice cafes etc. Have to go and lie down now as room is swimming (and not though gin consumption)...

The weather is always great on a Monday. Because the pool is closed for cleaning. I guarantee it will piddle it down tomorrow when the pool is open again. Still, we managed to fill the day with a very exciting trip to the British Embassy in the morning (they have a climbing frame and swings, woo hoo!) and the girls managed to prevent monsoon lassitude from settling in by both getting runny tummies (I can't spell diohrea) this afternoon. Also escaped for a shopping trip this afternoon, sans kids, to a big department store on the other side of town called Babatinis. It's chock-full of all the things that we were told you couldn't get in Nepal. Like shoes in my size or Strepsils or, well, pretty much anything really. I was under the impression that we'd be roughing it out here, but I think whoever advised us clearly hadn't made it across town to Babatinis. 

The only thing I can't seem to find is swim nappies. Which I think I might need with some urgency, or the pool will have to be closed for cleaning on an even more regular basis!

Couldn't pass up the chance for a bit of pampering last Thursday, when I was invited to go to the Summit Hotel with a couple of other wives for some beauty treatments. Hurrah, I thought, as I parked the kids in front of Lady and the Tramp with our lovely and long-suffering housekeeper/childminder (they call them 'diddy' out here, which sort of means aunty, although I have to say that Sanu is a darn sight more helpful and patient than any aunty I know of) and zoomed - well, chugged at least - off in the Landrover. 

In just a few short (and bumpy) minutes we were at the hotel - white, tree-fringed and pretty sumptuous looking. I waved a cheery goodbye to our driver, Dinesh, telling him not to come back for two hours (two whole child-free hours of delicious pampering; the anticipation was scrumptious...).

So, to say the whole thing was anticlimatic is somewhat of an understatement.

We arrived at the 'salon', a small cave-like room squished into the back of the hotel like an afterthought, to be greeted (and I use this term loosely) by a toad of a woman, who looked simultaneously bored and impatient with us. I later realised that these were her only two expressions, so by using them both on us upon our arrival, she was actually putting a bit of effort in. Her scared-looking minions cowered in the murky interior. 

I had booked in for an Indian head massage, manicure and blow dry. The other two wives had manicures, pedicures and facials booked. Toad woman dispatched her staff and they scuttled around doing beauty treatments in the fasted, least relaxed way I have ever experienced. The expression on Toad woman's face almost made you want to apologise for taking up so much of her valuable amphibian time. Time that presumably she thought would be better spent squatting under a nice muddy rock or something. Anyway, the head massage itself was ok, and the manicure passable, but the blow dry is quite possibly the worst I have ever had. A blind six-year old could do a better job. I was told afterwards that this was because I had the misfortune of having Toady herself do the blow dry, rather than one of her underlings, and she is notoriously rubbish (despite owning the place) at all things beauty or hair related. Half way though the blow dry she took a phone call and left someone else holding the dryer over one patch of hair for about ten minutes or so. It got so hot that I was worried I would spontaneously combust. Finally she got off the phone and in a hurried and disinterested way, finished off. 

Do you remember that cartoon from the 1970s called 'the hair bear bunch'? Well, that's what I looked like. Either that or the progeny of medusa and captain caveman.

I said, no, this is too frizzy, it won't do.

She half-heartedly slapped a bit of serum on and brushed it through.

No, said, it's all frizzy, look.

So she shoved a load of curlers in and lumped me in the corner under the dryer for half an hour.

Not once was offered a drink, a magazine - or even a smile.

Ooh, said the other wives as we left, all that for less than a tenner, it's definitely worth coming back, and tipped Toady handsomely (she'll be dining well on flies for the next few weeks with the amount they slipped into her slimy palms).

No, no, I thought, being bored, uncomfortable and made to feel utterly unwelcome is so not worth a tenner, and certainly not worth two hours of my life.

Wish I had stayed in and watched a DVD with the kids instead.

Went to the 'Garden of Dreams' this morning, which nearly turned into the 'Garden of nightmares' as it began to pee it down as soon as we arrived. Luckily sensible Mummy had packed sensible kagouls into overflowing handbag, so we explored the exotic oasis in the centre of town in a downpour. Thankfully there was also a cafe which sold (overpriced, but tasty) chocolate cake as well, so we all returned home wet but having had an adventure, most of all Twin 1, whose dress got so sodden that it fell down, exposing her Dora the Explorer pants to the whole of central Kathmandu.

Kids all fell asleep on the way home, leaving me to gaze in blissful silence out of the window at the enormous jumble sale of cows, bikes, cars, people, hoardings, stalls and puddles - even the occasional monkey - that is the journey from the middle of town to our suburb. Still fascinates me. I love the signs too. There's a fast food shop that advertises 'oscillating chicken' whatever that is, and plenty of billboards  - featuring gorgeous young things gazing lustily into each other's eyes - for an alcopop called 'Passion Cooler'. (Hmmm, wonder if the brand managers will take this to it's logical limit and I'll start seeing ads for 'Brewer's Droop'?). Am desperate to have enough child-free time to go out on foot and explore a bit on my own, or even with Hubby, if he ever gets round to taking time off work...