Back home

Hi honey, I'm homeless! Well, only for another five weeks, until we can move into our quarter.
I'm quite enjoying being back in the UK and taking full advantage of our nation, it's culture and traditions: I have already had a McDonald's, a KFC and been to Lidl. Oh, and I've also watched a whole episode of 'Come dine with me' and a little bit of an old Bergerac. Fab. Because that's what makes Britain great, you know.
Actually, it is very nice to be back, with un-pot-holed roads. And to see the family of course (probably should have prioritised them above the road quality, really).
My mum is being a top hostess and cooking lots of tasty food, and has stuffed the cupboards full of jaffa cakes and walkers crisps, which I can't eat, because it's been so long since I had a tummy bug that I am now far heavier than I ought to be (although I can't possibly diet, because I'm still on holiday). Those scales in the gym at BGN, they lied! I thought I was still quite slender and waif like, but it turns out I'm a tub of lard, bummer!
I have just heard my mum asking the kids where I am, and them saying 'no idea', so I guess I ought to go downstairs and be available.

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.

week 4 - halfway there!

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

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.

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

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

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