Ooh, feeling ever so slightly sandy-eyed and grumpy today. Leaving-do socialising is taking its toll. I didn't think I drank that much last night, and I was in bed by eleven, but when Twin 2 came into my side of the bed at five-to-six this morning, I did tell her quite clearly that I wouldn't be able to have a chat with her until at least six thirty - these early morning starts ought to be such a sweet chance for quality bonding time, but I just end up bitterly resenting my nice dreams being interrupted half and hour earlier than necessary.
And this morning I didn't have the opportunity to sweat off my grumpiness in the gym as I was attending a poolside first aid course. I now know how to resucitate (oops, but not how to spell it) adults, children and babies. Hope I never have to though. Apparently if someone has water in their lungs then your first breath into them will dislodge the water and they will vomit it all back up (into your face if you are the first aider). Nice.
Anyway, the good news is that I have finished the book. Oh yes. I mean, of course I now need to go back through it all and revise, edit, etc, but at least I have hit my deadline. I rewarded myself with a nice new eyeliner from Amazon (woo-hoo, living the dream). Hubby very kindly said he felt like buying me a present for hitting my deadline, but I said I think the presents should wait until I get my first advance - might be waiting a while, then...
Hubby thinks that my advance will buy him a nice mid-life-crisis two seater sports car of some sort. Whereas, I think, if I ever sell this book, the advance is more likely to cover a week's supermarket shopping.
Hmmm, think I need to get myself a brufen and rinse the bleach off my teeth before I head out for salad and iced tea.
Take care x
Wednesday, 29 June 2011
Saturday, 25 June 2011
Little R
It's been a rainy old day in Kathmandu, which is a good thing because it meant we didn't have to suffer the Saturday morning scrum at the swimming pool and that I could have a little 'power nap' whilst kids were watching Ice Age 3 (the power nap had absolutely nothing to do with the amount of white wine quaffed at Dwarika's last night, honest).
We made it out through a break in the clouds to a nearby cafe for lunch, but the short walk there was so exhausting (humidity, pot holes, puddles, almost no pavements, roads being dug up, nice stench of sewerage, someone arc welding on the only bit of pavement there was, etc.) that it was a relief to get home again. Ventured out a bit later on to do shopping and pick up pizza and Twins' little friend R who is here for a sleepover tonight, but then almost couldn't get shopping/pizza/kids back home again as there was an impromptu protest on the main road, and military police bunging in road blocks all over the place. I love it here, but living in the UK is a darn sight easier.
Little R lost her tooth whilst brushing her teeth just now. I said in my best Mary Poppins voice 'Ooh, how exciting, the Tooth Fairy will come!', whereupon Little R told the Twins that the Tooth Fairy is really your mum. No, no no, I wanted to shout, because even Son (who is now nine) still believes in the TF, and the Twins believe in everything. Good job Little R won't be around at Christmas time, as that would be the whole Santa Claus thing debunked once and for all.
Someone has kindly lent me Dexter season 5, so I'm looking forward to a few grisly murders in a bit.
Right, better go and be strict with sleepover kids...
Night then x
We made it out through a break in the clouds to a nearby cafe for lunch, but the short walk there was so exhausting (humidity, pot holes, puddles, almost no pavements, roads being dug up, nice stench of sewerage, someone arc welding on the only bit of pavement there was, etc.) that it was a relief to get home again. Ventured out a bit later on to do shopping and pick up pizza and Twins' little friend R who is here for a sleepover tonight, but then almost couldn't get shopping/pizza/kids back home again as there was an impromptu protest on the main road, and military police bunging in road blocks all over the place. I love it here, but living in the UK is a darn sight easier.
Little R lost her tooth whilst brushing her teeth just now. I said in my best Mary Poppins voice 'Ooh, how exciting, the Tooth Fairy will come!', whereupon Little R told the Twins that the Tooth Fairy is really your mum. No, no no, I wanted to shout, because even Son (who is now nine) still believes in the TF, and the Twins believe in everything. Good job Little R won't be around at Christmas time, as that would be the whole Santa Claus thing debunked once and for all.
Someone has kindly lent me Dexter season 5, so I'm looking forward to a few grisly murders in a bit.
Right, better go and be strict with sleepover kids...
Night then x
Wednesday, 22 June 2011
dragon's legs
Hello, sorry it's been a while. I have been writing the book, honest (although I have also spent a little time on Facebook). It's all coming together now - of the six things my heroine has to sort out, she's really only got one left to tackle (well, perhaps two).
I couldn't write much this afternoon as I had to take Twin 1 to her private tennis lesson, whilst Twin 2 had a manicure and pedicure at the beauty salon next door to the tennis court (yes, really). I have made it quite clear to the pair of them that our lives will change radically when we get back to the UK and there'll be no more private tennis lessons or pedicures for anyone. We'll all just have to be grateful for a once-a-week splurge on a take away whilst watching celebrity-singing-on-ice-in-the-jungle (or perhaps even that classic bit of reality TV from a few years ago, "Help, my dog is as fat as me!" - really hope that programme is repeated).
Did I mention that we've got a house? Hurrah, we have a house, and we'll only be homeless for five weeks until we can actually move into it. Have just bought a massive family tent on Amazon and got it shipped to my parents, so at least we'll have somewhere to sleep (good job too, as family members are getting ever more reluctant to open their doors to us).
Tomorrow evening is the school's carnival, and the culmination of creative arts week. So we have to go out to a cafe/art space and participate. The twins have the important job of being dragon's legs (?), so must be supportive, I guess (oh, that's actually a pun - not a very good one though, so I probably shouldn't have mentioned it). As part of creative arts week, the music teacher has produced a CD of the kids singing. The proceeds from the CD go to charity, so you can't exactly refuse to buy a copy, especially when (in my case) you have three kids nagging you to fork out. So we are now proud owners of "I've got a song to sing" by the kids of the British School. And how lovely it is to hear the nursery class's rendition of 'The wheels on the bus' at full volume. Or year 4's version of 'Give me one moment in time' (while I'm racing with destiny - but pitched a bit too high so nobody can quite reach the notes in 'destiny'). I can't even bring myself to post a copy to the UK to inflict on the grandparents. It would just be cruel. Thanks for that, Miss H.
Talking of dragon's legs. I wore shorts to the gym this morning. Yes, you can hear gasps of people claiming how culturally inappropriate it is to show your legs in Nepal. But I've seen Nepali women wearing shorts down our way (mind you, they might be women of ill-repute), so it can't be that culturally inappropriate. I think maybe the gasps of horror are less to do with the cultural aspect and more to do with exposing the good people of Patan to a double-whammy of varicose veins and cellulite. But I can't bring myself to care. I may have dragon's legs these days, but it's too blooming hot to be all coy in leggings.
Right, well then, it's gone ten (obviously Hubby has already been asleep about an hour) and I'm about to run out of charge so nightie night xx
I couldn't write much this afternoon as I had to take Twin 1 to her private tennis lesson, whilst Twin 2 had a manicure and pedicure at the beauty salon next door to the tennis court (yes, really). I have made it quite clear to the pair of them that our lives will change radically when we get back to the UK and there'll be no more private tennis lessons or pedicures for anyone. We'll all just have to be grateful for a once-a-week splurge on a take away whilst watching celebrity-singing-on-ice-in-the-jungle (or perhaps even that classic bit of reality TV from a few years ago, "Help, my dog is as fat as me!" - really hope that programme is repeated).
Did I mention that we've got a house? Hurrah, we have a house, and we'll only be homeless for five weeks until we can actually move into it. Have just bought a massive family tent on Amazon and got it shipped to my parents, so at least we'll have somewhere to sleep (good job too, as family members are getting ever more reluctant to open their doors to us).
Tomorrow evening is the school's carnival, and the culmination of creative arts week. So we have to go out to a cafe/art space and participate. The twins have the important job of being dragon's legs (?), so must be supportive, I guess (oh, that's actually a pun - not a very good one though, so I probably shouldn't have mentioned it). As part of creative arts week, the music teacher has produced a CD of the kids singing. The proceeds from the CD go to charity, so you can't exactly refuse to buy a copy, especially when (in my case) you have three kids nagging you to fork out. So we are now proud owners of "I've got a song to sing" by the kids of the British School. And how lovely it is to hear the nursery class's rendition of 'The wheels on the bus' at full volume. Or year 4's version of 'Give me one moment in time' (while I'm racing with destiny - but pitched a bit too high so nobody can quite reach the notes in 'destiny'). I can't even bring myself to post a copy to the UK to inflict on the grandparents. It would just be cruel. Thanks for that, Miss H.
Talking of dragon's legs. I wore shorts to the gym this morning. Yes, you can hear gasps of people claiming how culturally inappropriate it is to show your legs in Nepal. But I've seen Nepali women wearing shorts down our way (mind you, they might be women of ill-repute), so it can't be that culturally inappropriate. I think maybe the gasps of horror are less to do with the cultural aspect and more to do with exposing the good people of Patan to a double-whammy of varicose veins and cellulite. But I can't bring myself to care. I may have dragon's legs these days, but it's too blooming hot to be all coy in leggings.
Right, well then, it's gone ten (obviously Hubby has already been asleep about an hour) and I'm about to run out of charge so nightie night xx
Sunday, 19 June 2011
thou shalt not diss thyne wife
Had a nice mini break at Gokarna Forest resort this weekend. At least it was nice until Hubby kindly remarked that my arse looked big in the skirt I was wearing and my hairstyle reminded him of his mother.
I had to remind him that when he's away in Afghanistan for six long months there may be other men who don't thing I have huge arse and a hairstyle like their mum's. Later on, we discovered that he had been leeched. I think it must be God's punishment on him for dissing his wife. Is that one of the ten commandments - thou shalt not diss thyne wife? No? Well it should be.
I had to remind him that when he's away in Afghanistan for six long months there may be other men who don't thing I have huge arse and a hairstyle like their mum's. Later on, we discovered that he had been leeched. I think it must be God's punishment on him for dissing his wife. Is that one of the ten commandments - thou shalt not diss thyne wife? No? Well it should be.
Thursday, 16 June 2011
thirty two point four per cent
Just finished chapter eleven (well, almost, still need to type up final scene). Woo-hoo, I am cooking on gas - not literally, that's Mani's job.
So now I can have lunch (oily fish or hummus with ryevita - still on anti-witch diet), have reflexology, pick up kids and not have a nagging feeling about not having written enough today. Hurrah.
I'm having to pick up kids today (I've been sending them on the school bus recently as it gives me extra time to write) because I need to take the Twins and their little friend to the Year 1 end-of-year party, where the fabulous class rep has arranged for them all to decorate cupcakes and have a lovely time. Son is in Year 4 and not invited. If only he had a Year 4 party to attend instead. Shouldn't the Year 4 rep have organised something, like a pool party or bowling? Who is the lazy old Year 4 class rep anyway? ...oh, that's right, it's me. Apologies to any Year 4 parents reading this, but I am too busy being a wannabe author to do a party right now. Soz.
Twins hair is looking very nice today, hardly a hint of green in it. I'm very pleased because I finally managed to get tomato sauce on their hair last night, by cunningly mixing it up with conditioner and calling it a 'hair masque'. I also had to promise them both a sweet if they kept the 'hair masque' on for twenty minutes. Voila, chlorine stains gone and nice soft hair to boot (slightly red scalps and lingering tomatoe-y aroma though, but lets not dwell on that).
I discovered yesterday that the science of marriage dictates that the most blissfully wedded couples are in a relationship where the man is five years older than his wife, and the woman is twenty seven percent more intelligent (in fact, my old English teacher wrote a poem on the subject: http://www.theweeklypoem.com). I've been thinking about this. Hubby and I have been (mostly) happily married for thirteen years. He is four years older than me. So, given that the age gap is one year less than the optimum, does that mean that the percentage intelligence must be even higher, to compensate? What I mean is that if he's only four years older than me, and we're still happy, surely this must mean that I am at least thirty three percent more intelligent than him. Oh, come on, it makes sense. You do the maths - oh, okay I will, just wait a second...one fifth of twenty seven is... 5.4, and 27+5.4= 32.4
Okay, so I must be 32.4% more intelligent, no? (although will our marriage still be happy after Hubby reads this? Might have to recalculate...)
Right, I'm off for yummy fish and ryevita now xxx
So now I can have lunch (oily fish or hummus with ryevita - still on anti-witch diet), have reflexology, pick up kids and not have a nagging feeling about not having written enough today. Hurrah.
I'm having to pick up kids today (I've been sending them on the school bus recently as it gives me extra time to write) because I need to take the Twins and their little friend to the Year 1 end-of-year party, where the fabulous class rep has arranged for them all to decorate cupcakes and have a lovely time. Son is in Year 4 and not invited. If only he had a Year 4 party to attend instead. Shouldn't the Year 4 rep have organised something, like a pool party or bowling? Who is the lazy old Year 4 class rep anyway? ...oh, that's right, it's me. Apologies to any Year 4 parents reading this, but I am too busy being a wannabe author to do a party right now. Soz.
Twins hair is looking very nice today, hardly a hint of green in it. I'm very pleased because I finally managed to get tomato sauce on their hair last night, by cunningly mixing it up with conditioner and calling it a 'hair masque'. I also had to promise them both a sweet if they kept the 'hair masque' on for twenty minutes. Voila, chlorine stains gone and nice soft hair to boot (slightly red scalps and lingering tomatoe-y aroma though, but lets not dwell on that).
I discovered yesterday that the science of marriage dictates that the most blissfully wedded couples are in a relationship where the man is five years older than his wife, and the woman is twenty seven percent more intelligent (in fact, my old English teacher wrote a poem on the subject: http://www.theweeklypoem.com). I've been thinking about this. Hubby and I have been (mostly) happily married for thirteen years. He is four years older than me. So, given that the age gap is one year less than the optimum, does that mean that the percentage intelligence must be even higher, to compensate? What I mean is that if he's only four years older than me, and we're still happy, surely this must mean that I am at least thirty three percent more intelligent than him. Oh, come on, it makes sense. You do the maths - oh, okay I will, just wait a second...one fifth of twenty seven is... 5.4, and 27+5.4= 32.4
Okay, so I must be 32.4% more intelligent, no? (although will our marriage still be happy after Hubby reads this? Might have to recalculate...)
Right, I'm off for yummy fish and ryevita now xxx
Tuesday, 14 June 2011
speedy fingers
My fingers are red-raw from typing and my characters are speeding through their plotlines. Only two and a half chapters to go, and two and a half weeks left of the school term. The last chapter is a really short one (good job, as the last week of term is really only four days - the last day is just a morning, which consists of a very long, weepy assembly, when everyone sings emotional songs and bangs on about how great the school is...this year I shall be joining in with a big packet of tissues, and waterproof mascara), so I might just do it.
Apparently there are bandhs predicted for the next three days - Heaven knows what they are all protesting about this time. I just hope the school bus can get through, otherwise chapter eleven will stall, and my heroine will never get closure, bless her.
Have to go now and type up two thousand words before bedtime...
Apparently there are bandhs predicted for the next three days - Heaven knows what they are all protesting about this time. I just hope the school bus can get through, otherwise chapter eleven will stall, and my heroine will never get closure, bless her.
Have to go now and type up two thousand words before bedtime...
Monday, 13 June 2011
rat trap clap trap
Hubby wants me to tell you about the rat in the car. I think he only wants me too so that I stop banging on about his seedy three-in-a-bed sessions with Sophie and Jocasta.
So...yesterday when I opened the car door to pop five kids in after our morning swim, a rat jumped out. I don't know who squeaked louder, me or the rat. Actually, I do know. It was me. And it was more of a scream than a squeak. And then I had to remind myself that when Hubby goes to Afghanistan I have promised to replace him with, not one, but three of the little furry vermin. So I had better get over myself.
Right, now I need to say goodnight to Son and type up two thousand words whilst Hubby watches final episode of the Wire.
Ta ra!
So...yesterday when I opened the car door to pop five kids in after our morning swim, a rat jumped out. I don't know who squeaked louder, me or the rat. Actually, I do know. It was me. And it was more of a scream than a squeak. And then I had to remind myself that when Hubby goes to Afghanistan I have promised to replace him with, not one, but three of the little furry vermin. So I had better get over myself.
Right, now I need to say goodnight to Son and type up two thousand words whilst Hubby watches final episode of the Wire.
Ta ra!
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