moulin rouge

Hubby in Pokhara. I just got a text from him saying he's going to have a drink. Not sure why he's telling me, I just assume that when he's in Pokhara he will end up drinking dodgy beer in a dodgy bar. I tried to text him back, but my phone isn't letting me send any texts at the moment. I suspect this might be because some vital bit of telecommunications equipment has been struck by lightening. An electric storm has been kicking around the valley for the last six hours. It's mad. It's suddenly monsoon, but about two months early. I'm sure the rice farmers will be happy. I don't think the maoist rabble rousers will be quite so happy though. They have planned an indefinite 'bandh' (which literally translated means 'stop' and that's what happens: the entire country comes to a halt) starting saturday. But it won't be so easy rousing rabbles and burning tyres if its pouring with rain. However, just in case the rain eventually stops, I have been out panic buying cheese and baked beans (to go with the chick peas and lapsi jam). I went to my usual shop, the nice blue one, and I asked the proprietor how long he thought the bandh would go on. He said that basically the maoists are trying to do the same kind of thing that the red shirts have been doing in Thailand, so the bandh is pretty serious. He's a maoist, so I believe him. If it's a really bad bandh, then the kids won't be able to get to school, which will be a bummer. We'll all be stuck at home, in the rain, eating our chick peas and lapsi jam and watching Moulin Rouge again (doesn't matter how many times I see it, though, it still makes me cry).

We watched Moulin Rouge this evening, in fact (Thursday is Twin 1's choice of DVD). None of the kids really get it, they just like the singing. They also like to ask questions just when it gets to the emotional bits (and I am secretly crying). For example: Why didn't Christian just give her the kiss of life (Son's comment at the bit where Satine has just died of TB)? or Why is Toulouse a wolf (from Twin 2 - who knows what goes on in her five-year-old brain)? Twin 1 did not ask any irritating questions, but she did moan about having a 'hurting toe' all the way through, and she made me pause the film because she needed a poo, just when it got to the bit where Zidler and the Duke duet 'Like a virgin' in the gothic tower, which was pretty annoying anyway.

I have the last bit of a Sebastian Faulks book to read now, so I'm going to go. xxx

losing the plot

Having lots and lots of ideas about the new (better and potentially best selling, natch) book. So many, in fact, that I had to have a little lie down on the floor before lunch today and force myself to creative visualisation relaxation technique thingy. The last time I did that was when I was pregnant with the Twins, I think.

I have lots of ideas but no coherent structure, and I'm dead nervous about the whole plotting thing, because I honestly thought I had plotted the last book quite well, but the wise commercial romance writer who appraised it made it quite clear that my plot was utter pants. So I'm understandably coy about it all this time round. I have ordered a nice new book that she recommended from amazon, but there is no post at the moment (volcano backlog affecting flights) and if the whole bandh thing kicks off there won't be any next week either, which leaves me floundering about wondering how to go about getting a convincing midpoint/catharsis etc. And even if it's not a romance, as such, should I have a nice bloke in there for her to fall in love with anyway, or leave love out of it entirely?

On the plus side, I managed a Nepali lesson today. We learnt how to say 'please do this instantly', 'please do this for my sake' and something else which I have already forgotten. I'm sure Hubby has been practising these phrases all afternoon with his work colleagues, like the girly swot he is.

Must go and chivvie Son into bed now. Take care xxx

duck gizzards and lapsi jam

Apparently there is going to be an indefinite 'bandh' starting on Saturday.

The Maoists are bussing people in from the hills and there will be lots of burning tyres, waving sticks, road blocks and general anarchy. It's all to do with the new constitution, I think. However my Canadian friend who has been helping with the constitution writing process, says the constitution is ready for implementation, the problem is political, not practical. Whatever - I now have to do extra big supermarket shop before the weekend, so that we don't run out (but I have heard, from another friend, that my favourite shop is run by a maoist sympathiser so will probably stay secretly open during the bandh).

My prediction is that it will all amount to a storm in a teacup, we'll have a day or so of hullaballoo (incidentally, the Nepali word for big noise is hullabayo - do you think we nicked this word from them? Hah! This proves I have learnt something from all those scary Nepali lessons!), and I will be left with a store cupboard full of chickpeas, couscous and lapsi jam. Yes, I know, why would I buy chickpeas, couscous and lapsi jam in the first place? Well, you haven't seen the choice in shops out here. There are no Smarties to be had in the whole of the Kathmandu Valley, because D bought the last two packets for her daughter's birthday party yesterday. And there are no tins of anchovies either, because I saw H buying the last six tins to use as a topping for her cauliflower risotto (cauliflower and anchovy risotto...is it just me, or does that sound about as appetising as the rucola salad with duck gizzards - gesiers, in french, apparently - that I was offered for lunch today?).

Anyway, don't knock lapsi jam, it's really quite tasty (a bit runny though).

blue monday

Just given the last of the nice blue birthday cake to the night guard, who managed to look convincingly pleased (cake is probably now in Gary's tummy and he will be doing blue poos for the remainder of the week).

Have been asked out for lunch tomorrow with some other playground mums; very pleased but will have to break into staff wages kitty to afford it, and then will have to cash another cheque for staff wages this week, bummer. So much for saving money for summer hols. Feel like I can't possibly say no, though, as I was such an antisocial hormonal misery guts for the whole of last week. I didn't even make it to the Queen's birthday party at the embassy (I hear she was gutted at my absence). So I need to make up for it by being a bit less of a morose recluse (hmm, that could be the name of a character: Morose Recluse, the french antique shop owner and secret psychopath - what do you think?) this week.

Blimey, it's nine o'clock and I bet Hubby is asleep already.

Should probably go.

Take care xx

weekend

Waiting, waiting, for very slow internet connection to let me buy train tickets for the summer. I'm trying to be organised; I have even started a summer holiday file, which I think is probably what organised people do (I don't usually do things like this - I usually think I'm organised because I have a collection of scribbled notes at the back of my diary, but then realise I am missing something critical, like a passport).

A similar thing happened for the Twins' party on Saturday. It was a mermaids and pirates party. I planned the party games, made a really tasty-looking blue cake, etc. but I forgot about blowing up balloons. I had what I thought was a brilliant idea of putting sweets inside the balloons, and I honestly thought that I'd be able to blow up twenty balloons with sweets inside whilst the little darlings were eating their chips. I think I managed two, and then had to enlist the help of other random mothers to do the job for me (they all said admiring things about my ambitious party bags, but I could tell they were thinking, why the hell is she bothering with such luxuries as sweet-filled balloons for these ungrateful bunch of guttersnipes).

Twins got lots and lots and lots of presents. Hubby berated me for being stressy when he actually did all the tough party work (funny, I don't remember him sending out invitations, shopping for themed game prizes or sorting out games or making the cake or... but I don't want to do him too much of a disservice as he did an excellent job painting mermaid and pirate nails and sorting the music out for 'pass the pirate')

So that was yesterday.

Today, Twin 2 learned to swim. Yes, I know, and her being disabled and all! Actually, although she can swim, she doesn't know how to come up for air, so there is still a way to go. But, I'm very proud indeed. Now she can run and swim, nobody will believe me when I say she has cerebral palsy (although, she's a long way off from doing the can-can!).

One of the sporty balloon-blowing mums was very impressed with her running (she couldn't do this at her last birthday party) and wondered whether she'd ever be able to do track and field events. I said that it was unlikely that any of my children would have any talent in that direction; regardless of whether or not they had a disability they would be genetically predisposed to be spaccers on the sports pitch.

Anyhow, must go. Lunch boxes, homework and library books to sort out - don't you love Sunday nights? xx

Hachiko

By the way, watched the DVD about the loyal dog the other day and cried my eyes out (and this was even before the whole failed-novelist-carrying-three-extra-kilos revelations of earlier this week). It's called Hachiko, if you're interested. If you like dogs, you will bawl like a baby; if you don't like dogs then you will be as unmoved as a slab of concrete. We like dogs, so it was a bit emotional. Even Hubby cried - he denies this but I heard the sniffs and I saw the red-rimmed eyes, so the crusty old soldier can't fool me!

I am the secret baker

I'm waiting for the cakes to cook. They are blue with multi-coloured sprinkles - meant to look like the sea. And I've just been online to look for an American frosting recipe. Such is my life, now that I am no longer a best-selling novelist (not that I ever was, except in a secret part of my brain that I should never have mentioned to anyone, ever).

I'm in the throes of making birthday cakes for a pirates and mermaids party. I'm not sure how appealing blue cakes will be, but in my experience no child actually ever eats any of the cake at a birthday party anyway. I'm having to cook in secret because Meena is getting a bit demoralised about my rejection of her cake-making skills - she discovered that I'd bought a birthday cake for the Twins' actual birthday (which was on Tuesday), and looked distinctly teary about not having been asked to make it herself. I feel bad, I do, but not bad enough to trust her with making one. I'm leaving it mostly to Mrs Betty Crocker and Mr Pilsbury, in fact. Sorry Meena!

Hubby has been very supportive about the whole failed novelist thing. He has even helped me think about new plot for next book. I think he's just grateful that I have finally stopped snivelling.

I have decided that I don't really want to write a romance, as such. Which is a bit of a bummer as it means I can't send the next manuscript to the Romantic Novelists Association for appraisal. The thing is, I just don't think I 'do' romance that well. I'm more interested in family dynamics and dark secrets. But will that sell? Hmmm. Would still like to do a creative writing MA, but they don't offer any of those at the University of Kathmandu, oddly enough.

Well, now I'm off to do a bit of light googling research to help find my potential heroine's job.

Take care x