I don't want a lot for Christmas

I was very impressed by the recent school production of Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream. Most of the student actors and actresses speak English as their second language. For them to learn such long, lyrical lines and deliver them so well was wonderful to see and hear. It was both ambitious and entertaining and I really enjoyed my trip to the theatre.

Our very own Dukhan Triathlon took place in glorious conditions after the strong winds of late had abated. Each competitor received a medal at the finish line. Many volunteers helped to make this a really successful event and the athletes enjoyed the course which included an open water sea swim. Dirtbag impressively completed the whole thing solo (Under 14's category, four days before she became 14), while Mini-Me did the bike leg in a winning Under 11's team.

Another opportunity presented itself where I was obliged to dress up yet again. It is indeed a wonderful life! This time, I was Connie Claus, Santa's jealous daughter. The occasion was a Murder Mystery game called Ho, Ho, Homicide. Father wanted me to marry Kris Krangle, but I had secretly wed Blinky, an elf I had fallen in love with. It was great fun sweating it out in a friend's sauna inducing Christmas jumper with my neon blue wig in place. My dodgy accent fluctuated between what I thought was French, Swedish, Norwegian, Turkish and Arabic. Despite being a jealous and cold character, I was not the murderess.

Lysander:    Ay me! for aught that I could ever read, 

                   Could ever hear by tale or history,

                   The course of true love never did run smooth;

I have been venturing out on the road bike to see how much faster I can go; tracking my speed and distance on the Garmin I bought for Romeo last Christmas with his money! (It's the thought that counts after all). The straps on my sports bra are thicker in all dimensions than the tyres on this bike, so it is with some trepidation I embark on my rides. On my most recent expedition I reach speeds of 35 km or so, cycling approximately 10 km out of the compound. I'm trying hard not to think the thought remembering the broken sail. Too late, it takes root somewhere.
I hope I don't get a puncture. 

Ping! Oh beep, beep, beeeeeep!!! The back tyre bursts on a tiny, sharp desert stone. Thank gravity it wasn't a bra strap! That would have really been something to worry about. I decide to enjoy the 5 km walk back in the cooler weather, singing and doing some more thinking.

Why doesn't Bradley Cooper invite me out for dinner? Why doesn't Jay Kay ask me round to dance with him? Why doesn't Simon Armitage phone me up and beseech me to collaborate with him on his next brilliant poem? Why don't any of these flatbed trucks trundling past offer me a lift? The police even pass me twice! I must look like a woman in control of her own destiny and not to be messed with, wearing Romeo's Maersk Oil desert challenge 2014 top. I'm approximately 1 km away from the compound when a small car with an OFFICIAL sign displayed on its back windscreen stops.
This charming man puts his window down and says in a dodgy American or Australian accent,
''Do you need a ride?''
I politely thank him for his offer, yet refuse this stranger's kindness. We both agree that I really should learn how to mend a puncture. Walking on, I reflect upon how difficult it would have been to refuse such an offer if it was from a friend of mine. Eventually, I get back to the house completing my duathlon. There is no medal for me at the front door finish line, just the satisfaction of survival.

My top 5 Christmas films waiting to be watched again this week are:

1. It's a Wonderful Life
2. Scrooged
3. Love Actually
4. Home Alone
5. The Snowman

'' So here it is Merry Christmas 

  Everybody's having fun, 

 Look to the future now 

It's only just begun.''

Thank you for your friendship, your encouragement and taking the time to read me. 

Wishing you all a very Merry Christmas and a Happy & Healthy 2016.

With Love from,

Susie xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

All I Want For Christmas Is You by Mariah Carey (1994)

Merry Xmas Everybody by Slade (1973)

Blowin' in the Wind

November was a busy month with lots of fun stuff going on. We enjoyed having some friends from Scotland to stay with us for a couple of days whilst over here on business. It was great to see them thriving; being happy and successful in both work and their marriage. I breathed in this positivity deeply.

Lo and behold I did get to wear my dreadlocked, faux fur cap wig when I went along to an alternative version of the T.V game show, Family Fortunes. It was brilliantly hosted and there was a lot of laughter ricocheting around the makeshift studio.
Our survey says thanks a lot for that!

Humbly, I attended a Filipina birthday party on the public beach. I was the only Yorkshire pudding in a group of forty or so young men and women. Despite looking like Gulliver in Lilliput they welcomed me with wide open arms, kindly shared their food and invited me to join in the party games. It was a lovely, heart-warming experience.

On the 27th November, Romeo and I entered the 20th Annual Regatta, sailing the only catamaran in our category. It was the perfect day for sailing with really good winds to whizz us along. Our mainsail had the number 44 on it; I took this as a good sign having become that age five days earlier. We set sail with the whole fleet; 10 Lasers and another two-man crew in a Laser Stratos. The Regatta consisted of five, fairly fast races. I loved it, especially when we began surfing the waves at times. There was an extraordinary phenomenon which took us all by surprise and delight when hundreds of black cormorants flew across the horizon, then frenetically around us, swooping and diving into the sea to catch fish. When they continued on their migration I could clearly see them in the distance like a dancing Arabic script across the sky. I interpreted it as saying, Let there be peace in the Middle East, repeatedly over and over again, birds upon birds, writing the words. Will they be heard?

Another bizarre moment to report occurred when we were in the overall lead and enjoying the speed. I was admiring the sails and thought to myself, wouldn't it be terrible if they broke. At precisely that moment, the jib snapped off! Am I psychic or what?

We had to return to shore and replace the sail which caused Romeo a lot of unnecessary stress. To get the broken sail down he had to hook a ring from the top of the mast using a long metal pole attached to a medium sized sweeping brush. I was laughing my head off! Not very supportive I know, but this comedy sketch went on for a good ten minutes before the new jib was up and flapping.
We completed the course, won all the races against ourselves and received two mini fridges as prizes.

Not allowing tiredness to beat us we went straight from sailing to preparing the house for my annual DISCO! I couldn't borrow the giant, silver glitter ball I had last year as our lovely neighbours have gone home. Determined to create an authentic venue I did buy two multi-coloured flashing orbs and Romeo installed all the fairy lights in Qatar around the inside and outside of the house.

DJ Susie had carefully selected the music for the evening, starting off with a couple of Cd's early on, before her eclectic dance playlist blasted out at around 9 pm. Totally unprepared for the demands of my gorgeous Latina friends requesting Ricky Martin and Shakira, I had to give in and give them what they wanted to save a riot from breaking forth. With YouTube to the rescue, they were soon rhythmically banging and shaking their behinds beautifully. The lucky men at my disco were certainly in paradise for at least one night of their lives. I was enjoying watching everyone having fun, whilst dancing, despite missing some absent friends. Just as I wondered where one particular friend was she appeared right in front of me! What is going on here? I have to think very carefully from now on.

So I think about my marriage and the vows I promised. I google them and read them carefully to myself aloud. Sailing together is something Romeo and I both enjoy and it reminds me of our wedding song. Although Christy is a Hoyle relative, he unfortunately wasn't at our wedding. The Bogtrotters performed it while we sang the lyrics in the big marquee, damaging my father-in-law's garden for the foreseeable future. The deluxe portable toilets were admired by all.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=xYZXbU_d_7c

At last, the cooler weather has arrived; it's almost autumnal here now. Despite the current climate change, I awake one morning feeling much hotter than normal. Oh no! Is this IT mum? No! I don't want to go crazy. HELP ME!! Is it too late to have a sex change?

FRANKIE 
   SAYS
RELAX SUSIE

It's only the central air conditioning unit that has broken down again.

xx

Stereophonics Live in Qatar Nov 10

The title was secured onto my wrist, white letters on red plastic. Great, Let's go! I would have preferred to have dressed rock chick style in a black leather mini skirt, a revealing low cut, black vest, with a crucifix slung around my neck for effect, not a statement of faith this time. Possibly some black cowboy boots on my dancing feet? And what about a long brown dreadlocked wig upon my head, with a faux fur animal print cap attached to it (I do actually possess one, another kind gift from another lovely friend)? I really am my own worst enemy.

Unfortunately, the dress code on the ticket stated: Please respect the local rules and regulations. No headgear of any kind.

Instead, I ended up looking like a middle-aged wife and mother of two, in some long trousers and a huge hippy, flower power tent top (aka my 'lucky top' but that's a whole other gig). I decided to let my hair hang loose in keeping with my new Bohemian style but soon had to scrunch the mass of sun-bleached straw securely on top of my head. It was hot, humid and sweaty, still thirty degrees or so. We share the same sun, but it had already set here and was no longer sunny. However, I realised it was far too hot for crowd surfing and I didn't want to pass out.

Romeo managed to get away with wearing his shorts, it means nothing except that we were barred from the hotel pub! This wasn't a problem to me as we could pick a part that's new on the barrier separating the Fan Pit from our General one in the unseated outdoor arena. There was not much difference between these spaces apart from an extra QR 250. So we had the perfect position to sweat it out before the band came on at around 9.20 pm as they were unsupported.

I was just looking, absorbing the atmosphere and thinking c'est la vie when they appeared from a catacomb in the hotel behind them, taking their positions on the stage in a moment. Losing the plot completely, I squeezed the life out of Romeo's left arm whilst sort of scream shouting as they kicked off with a song from their new album called I Wanna Get Lost With You.

They are certainly not a chatty bunch but let their music do the talking. The drummer is without a doubt the most animated band member. With this in mind, I can't help giving the guys some nicknames. So from left to right of the local boy(s) in the photograph we have: Smiley, Cocky, Animal (from The Muppet Show) and Mr. Melancholy. Hope they don't mind?

I was mesmerised from beginning to end, especially with Kelly Jones' skinny, throbbing left leg snug in some black jeans. I wanted to jump up onto the stage and hang onto his other ankle whilst be blown into further oblivion by his guitar playing and amazing voice. Whatever would Security and Romeo do with me then?

The next day Kelly tweeted 'Doha Rocked last night' and of course, he was right, we did! I was high air punching with both fists, water bottle secured between my breasts whilst jumping up and down like Zebedee (from The Magic Roundabout) for an hour and a half. Except, of course, when I swayed along in an ecstatic trance to Mr.Writer and Graffiti on the Train. I almost cried when the whole audience sang the chorus of Maybe Tomorrow a few times over, getting louder as Mr. Melancholy commanded us to. I sang my heart and soul out super loud to every song. The band were brilliant in an unassuming, yet perfectionist way. So I have total respect for them putting on a great performance without any cocktails. I would definitely see them again and wished they could have stayed more than a minute longer after the encore.

There was no sign of Superman soaring in the few clouds above us only an aeroplane or two. I'm sure I heard the red dragon on a large Welsh flag fire-breathe, fight or flight? An open bottle of water did come flying overhead showering us with some tiny, cooling droplets. Had Mr. and Mrs. Smith already checked into the Sheraton that night? Were the bartender and the thief snogging behind a thousand palm trees? For goodness sake Jones, hurry up and wait. Just e-mail or phone Dakota and communicate with her, it's not that difficult!
Can I remember what an Indian summer feels like having spent almost half a decade in the sun? Once again, louder, ''So maybe tomorrow I'll find my way home.''

Stumbling and smiling she crawls into bed. Of course she takes her clothes off, they were far too sweaty to sleep in. Waking up the next day at ridiculous o'clock as usual, my first thought is yesterday, tomorrow, today? When the family had gone to school I sneaked back into bed, sleeping until 10 am. Ssh, don't tell anyone but being an extremely enthusiastic, ecstatic hippy, rock chick is very tiring.
What a fantastic gift from Romeo.

This time, my lucky top didn't allow me to meet the charming band in the hotel foyer after the gig (Morten, Magne and Pal of a-ha in Sheffield 2010 mit meiner Freundin) but mercifully it did keep us safe from harm, gunshots, and death.

Mon coeur est brisé. My heart is broken. Ma famille à Paris sont sûrs heureusement. 
My family in Paris are safe, thankfully. Je suis désolé. I'm sorry. Ce n'est pas la vie.
This is not the life. Je pleure, Je prie, Je l'espère. I weep, I pray, I hope.
La peur, non, jamais! Fear, no, never! Ensemble nous sommes plus forts.

Together we are stronger.

Avec tout mon amour,
Susie xx



PS Did you spot the 26 song titles and two album references in my review? Have a nice day.

The Unforgettable Fire

I saw him smiling at me from behind the towels in the cupboard. Had I forgotten he was there? The reality of what I had to do with him began to grow in my mind over the following days. The bonfire would be blazing, I could secretly shove him into the other cupboard we were going to burn. No-one else needed to know my plot. I thought it would be better for both of us. But would he prefer to be thrown back out into the desert where I first found him? He can't or won't talk to me anymore. The bigger cupboard has silenced him. I'm sorry about that.
This time, I can't stop myself from giving him a hug and a kiss before I say goodbye.

The darkness begins to descend and so the fire burns: the wood, the creepy Guy, some broken furniture. The cupboard is thrown on after serving its purpose as a table for some food. I watch it catch fire quickly and marvel at how hot it gets, hoping it's not hurting him too much.

Passing another table (not to burn), I see him still smiling up at me from a black bin bag. How can this be? Is he the Harry Houdini of the toy clown world? This makes it hard for me now. Some kind soul had obviously found him again just as I was about to lose him. Maybe he needed rescuing again? I have to act fast, so I grab him firmly by the hand, walk purposefully over to the blaze and chuck him in. He appears to do a few flamboyant somersaults before entering the flames.

The night continued with some music and singing. Constellations were clear up above and as I saw one bright, shooting star I was sure I heard him gently singing The Unforgettable Fire by U2. Or did I just wish for that?



Pause today to remember.

They shall grow not old,
as we that are left grow old;
age shall not weary them,
nor the years condemn.

At the going down of the sun
and in the morning, we will remember them.

We will remember them.

From the poem For The Fallen
by Robert Laurence Binyon (1869-1943)

Progressing with thawed words in a flawed world

Taking matters into my own hands and giving myself a very firm kick up the thankfully now defrosted butt, I purchase The Writers' & Artists' Yearbook 2016 as recommended by Penguin publishers. It's got all the answers and advice I really need to continue pursuing my dream. However, imagine reading the Yellow Pages on a Kindle and that's the initial frustration I had fast forwarding through the first 13% of contact details for newspapers and magazines in the whole of the UK. Phew! Eventually, I made it to Books, How to get published. Please tell me everything, my flicking finger is fatigued.

Reading voraciously like a desperate, knowledge craving mad woman, I try to absorb all the things that need to be done. The main thing being to write a good story then edit, review, revise, and edit it. Don't give up Susie you can do this. Keep persevering.

I have had fun attempting to write a brief summary and longer synopsis of the novel (brief being the hard bit for me). It's really helped to clarify what my story is about, what genre it is and the audience I am targeting. Further research tells me that as a first-time author I should try to identify an agent who will work on both our behalfs. This is really going to challenge my integrity as the literary world, just like most of the world, revolves around making money. Greed is one of the key themes in my novel. Yikes, I just told you some Top Secret information. Erase and rewind.
Anyway, some small steps of progress are being made. Thanks for the encouragement.
Susie, keep reading, writing, singing and dancing.

Mum and Dad have been here again on one of their biannual visits.Time always whizzes by so fast. They came armed with all sorts of stuff: Yorkshire tea bags, a new top and swimsuit for me, salad cream and perfectly painted school Honours Boards for Romeo, sweets, protective phone cover and iTunes voucher for Kid A, sweets and a new watch for kid b, birthday and Christmas gifts for us in advance. Did they bring any clothes with them apart from the ones on their backs?

For two weeks every day I received at least two super strengthening hugs from dad, kisses and constant fun chats with mum, including free marriage guidance counselling sessions (she is well qualified after 47 years of wedded bliss?!). I also got a fairly explicit summary of whichever novel she had just read. Most seem to be pensioners erotic fiction from what I surmise! Given a chance, I would like to take The French Gardener to bed with me but mum has whisked him back to Yorkshire. Quelle dommage.

Knowing full well that I would be stared at by everyone as I set off to meet Mini-Me from a football tournament one Saturday, I dressed accordingly in a white T.shirt with the bold, black plea WORLD PEACE printed on it. My shorts were respectfully below the knee, rucksack on back, sunhat and sunglasses in place. Copious amounts of deodorant were clogging both armpits yet failed to stem the flow of sweat from pouring forth.

It took twenty minutes to get to the school pushing two bikes, one in each hand, balancing a bag and cycling helmet on each set of handlebars. Not wanting to take over the whole right-hand lane of the road I pushed one bike on top of the pavement going up and down the dips. Sing-songing a cheery hello to all the gardeners staring, smiling and laughing at me, I felt slightly frustrated that I couldn't wave as well.

Romeo had taken dirtbag to training so my only other option was to phone a friend. I'm very determined and strong-willed remember. We began cycling down to a beach club party a few minutes after Mini-Me had disembarked from the football bus. Feeling very much like the mule in Buckaroo, when would I kick my back wheel in the air, fling all the bags, water bottles, football, birthday gift and swim stuff  into the air and call it a day?

You will be pleased to know that the fire engine is back in business. It's like driving a tank compared to that nippy Mitsubishi. It looks so much better after being hosed down on the outside too.
Dirtbag flew off to Dubai for a few hours with her friends from Doha Athletics to run the 800m in a competition. I left her in good hands at the airport wishing her all the luck in the world. As there weren't enough girls in her age bracket (U15) she ran in the under 17's, coming third out of ten girls. Letting her go was both weird and wonderful. Of course, I thought about her all day long and especially when she ran her race. Well done Supergirl!

Mini-Me and I enjoyed watching Hoodwinked (2005) together. We both loved it. Red and I should swap places, She wants to leave the woods and have adventures. I want to return to them and cycle merrily around. The Happily Ever After Agency in the film sounds alluring to me but life's not a fairytale is it?
It can be full of joy, peace, contentment and hope, though.

Keep looking for adventures and seeking surprises in the everyday ordinary things around you.
Open your eyes. Or do you prefer to stay blind?

All is going well with the childminding. Three siblings appear every afternoon at various times for snacks, homework club and rest. I'm trying to strike a healthy balance between Mary Poppins and Nanny McPhee without using any magical powers. Fortunately, they are well behaved.
Sadly, The Famous Five had to go back to the library and now we have the scintillating Go Ahead, Secret Seven to devour. Imagine my delight when I discover that chapter one is entitled 'Susie is most annoying.'

''Enid Blyton why don't you tell it like it is? Why don't you tell it like it really is?.....''
(sung to the tune of Mr.Writer by the Stereophonics.)

Thanks for continuing to read my blog, it means a lot to me. The overview states that I had 263 page views last month. I'm sure my eleven faithful followers won't read it more than once and I don't track my own page views. Would it be blasphemous to recruit a twelfth follower?

With Love xx



Erase/Rewind by The Cardigans (1999)

Kid A album by Radiohead (2000)

Open Your Eyes by Snow Patrol (2007) from their album Eyes Open (2006).

Fasten your seatbelts and enjoy the ride.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=fk1Q9y6VVy0

Supermoon and a super man

The moon rose exactly in the east as the sun began to set exactly opposite in the west. Both big glowing balls hovered above the monoliths already stretching out their shadows, tentatively touching, 'casting out their sweet line with abandonment and hope?' It felt special. The supermoon preparing to be transformed into a bloodied one with the help of the always super sun. Everything aligning. Why did almost everyone rush away? Were they afraid of the dark or the red tears that may drip drop from the sky's eyes? We left one family contentedly behind, kindly keeping Mini-Me with them for a while longer.
Darkness had descended and we struggled to find the tracks back. Still no fear or worry from me.
'Just head for the lights,' I said.
'It's not as easy as that,' replied Romeo.

Flashback to Le road trip 2015, with a 2005 map of France and no satellite navigation system.

'Haste not now beautiful wife which road do we need?'
'Oh deary me all the road numbers appear to be different my love.'
'Worry not sweetheart, I'll stop the carriage forthwith and check the map.'
'How wonderful! Forgive me for thinking that it would be so much better if you allowed me to drive and tell me where to go beloved one?'
'Do not frown so or you may further wrinkle your brow my heart's desire. I have it all under control.'

Delirious encore moi? Oh la la et Mon Dieu! Back to the desert.

Coming to an abrupt stop, stress levels spiked high, I spy a baby owl perched on a rock right beside us. He stared at me, blinked, then flew away and we found our route back.

'What language is this written in?' Mini-Me asks whilst reading Five Go Adventuring Again by Enid Blyton.
'Old English,' I smile back at him on the bottom bunk together.
''George! Make Tim sit down. He's wagging my hat off!'' I read aloud in my posh Yorkshire accent.
'Is that a figure of speech?' Asks my boy.
I have to say Aunt Fanny quickly trying not to snigger, but he openly chuckles when I stumble across Dick! This is going to be brilliant bedtime reading. Good job it's Uncle Quentin and not Uncle Nobby.

I treated the kids to an all singing, dancing, pyrotechnic, trapeze flying production of Peter Pan. It was amazing. My eyeballs were ping-ponging all over the place trying to keep up with Tinkerbell and the non-stop action. The fire engine had burnt up inside with it's broken down air conditioning forcing a quick change of vehicle, a very patient, Hoyle tolerant friend and off we went. I was so happy we could go to the show and as if by magic we ended up sat in some comfy VIP seats too.

We are currently long-term borrowing a Mitsubishi thanks to kind neighbours. Would you lend your car, van, bike to someone in need? It's an amazing thing to do in my book. Speaking of books I'm still editing the novel and am in limbo, panicking over the next step of possible publishing and how to go about it? Have humbly, gratefully received some positive feedback.

All things are possible.

High on the adrenaline rush from Neverland I slump back down to earth, landing on the cushion of sorrow upon hearing the news that my dear friend, Arthur, had died that morning aged 98. I am fortunate to have enjoyed his friendship for 23 years. He has blessed many, many other lives as well as mine. We shared some quality time together again in the summer. He was on good form and we talked about the important things; life, death, love, friendship. And we laughed and cried. After I had washed his cup and plate, then shut the kitchen door gently behind me having already hugged and kissed our earthly goodbyes, did we both realise it would be the last time? I think so. I take great comfort in knowing he is now at peace, soaring high above with some super strong wings until we meet again.

''Do you realize that you have the most beautiful face, 
 Do you realize we're floating in space, 
 Do you realize that happiness makes you cry, 
 Do you realize that everyone you know someday will die? 

And instead of saying all of your goodbyes, let them know
You realize that life goes fast
It's hard to make the good things last, 
You realize the sun doesn't go down 
It's just an illusion caused by the world spinning round.''

It has been a difficult week to crawl through with some sadness, apathy, family conflict, chronic back and buttock pain. Giving in again, I go to the Medical Centre. Another Doc this time, not the sore throat soother from my last visit.

''Hellooo my darling what is the matter?'' Instantly I feel a bit better.

The physiotherapist gives me some exercises which work wonders. One lovely friend recommends heat while another a cooling gel. Open to anything that may help I gently smear the Biofreeze onto my lower back and (do I have to tell you this?) both buttocks. Now I truly know how the land felt during the last ice-age.Wow! Talk about comfortably numb. Sing it louder Pink Floyd. The thing is how did this injury occur? Was I conscious when it happened or did it strain in a gymnastic dream? More likely it was a squat that went horribly wrong in a circuit training session. Why do I bother? Because I'm worth it and so are you.

I consider performing open heart surgery on myself and slathering Biofreeze over the life-giving organ within when things deeply hurt me. My brain tells me to carefully reconsider, not to numb the pain as then it will never truly heal, but face it boldly and deal with it. Besides the warning on the tube clearly states: 'For external use only.'


Lyrics from Fisherman's Blues (slightly altered) by The Waterboy's (1988)
and  Do You Realize?? by The Flaming Lips (2002)

Reading: I am Malala by Malala Yousafzai

Listening and absorbing every lyric to: Keep The Village Alive (2015) and Graffiti onThe Train (2013) by the Stereophonics in stunned surprise that I will be seeing them live in Doha next month!

Singing to: Hopes and Fears (2004) by Keane

Injury permitting I'm dancing to: Back Where I Belong by Jack Savoretti and Can't Feel My Face by The Weeknd. Do they use Biofreeze too?

Photograph of a photograph: Arthur aged 93, Susie aged 38. Taken in 2010 in our kitchen the year before we came to Qatar.

Riders on the Storm

Dramatically the heavens responded to the mournful lyrics from Missing as thunder, lightning, lashing rain and apocalyptic sandstorms blasted the country while we were out at sea. The cruiser yacht was every playboy's paradise, complete with luxury bedrooms, showers, toilets and a small galley. I had braved the bikini and it was the closest I will ever get to feeling like a Bond girl (although I'd rather be one of Charlie's Angels). Not quite up to Halle Berry's standard but not caring too much either, I dived into the sea head first as the thunder started to rumble all around us. We were a motley crew celebrating a 30th birthday. How wonderful the youth of today are, inviting a midlife crisis and her Romeo to tag along. A few of us floated cheerfully around together in the salt solution. Watching the lightning crack its whip we inevitably discussed our chances of survival if we got struck.
'Let's get out now!'

Safely back on deck we relaxed, chatted, ate, put the sunglasses away as it was gloomy and continued to watch the perfect storm. On the horizon, Doha Skyline loomed menacingly surreal like Gotham City. Great forks of lightning flashed over the other buildings nearby where dirtbag was staying! After a while, a strange calm suddenly crept over the water and it felt intensely hot, humid and sticky for about five minutes. Then a cold wind whipped up the waves and spun us around on the mooring. Large raindrops started splashing down and exploding onto our bodies, raising hundreds of goosebumps to the skin's surface. It was brilliant! Meanwhile, our compound was being engulfed by a giant wall of doom filled sand, turning the sky orange, ravaging the homes and gardens. Mini-Me was tucked away safely inside at his friend's house. Both kids told us later that they were worried about us being out on the boat. Wow, they do care about us. Driving back after the storm we were directed off-road as it had become a lake, the desert no longer missing the rain.

But I can still miss you, can't I?

For arts sake who could possibly think that it is OK for a father to teach his own teenage daughter? This could cause a permanent rift in their relationship that even Araldite can't fix. Guess who will be left picking up the many potential pieces of a creative fallout?
Help me! Like the poet Stevie Smith, I am 'not waving but drowning.'
Huge gasp and cry. The wonderful news of my nephew safely entering the world helps me breathe again and fills me with hope. He's perfect.

It still amuses me how ideas begin to form in my mind. A theme pops up and one thing leads to another, as it always does, making sense to me anyway.
My constant stream of consciousness (Oh no, not that again).
I hope it at least makes you smile and at best laugh out loud.

Listening to The Best of The Doors whilst baking a cake last week, I don't have any unusual ingredients to add, just carrots, flour, sugar, eggs and oil. Thinking about Mr. Mojo Risin' (his own apt anagram) and how he would have certainly been a terrible influence on me if our paths had crossed. Surely I would have fallen under his spell for a while. He died so young, four months before I was born. Was it all worth it Jim?

If things are tough for you just now keep on walking steadily forward overcoming the barriers in your path. Someone or something will help to pull you safely through the other side.

Another force was sorry to tell me that the official video was unavailable. So just listen carefully when you have time.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=aP3BMz8qSXI


Not Waving but Drowning by Stevie Smith (1957)

Listening: to The Best of The Doors (1985)
Watched: the film The Doors (1991)    
Reading: The Girl on the Train by Paula Hawkins
Dancing: to Fine China by Chris Brown or The Other Side by Jason Derulo on Just Dance (2014). I've nearly got all the classic moves 'perfect' now. It's so much fun, you try it. Google it, go on, do it!

Back to Life

''Back to reality, back to the here and now, yeah.''

Phew, I not only survived but thrived through the endless summer fun. Of course there were some super stressful episodes too. I thrashed it all out in my handwritten holiday diary. The most frequent question that came forth from my lips during the summer adventure was, 'What would Bear Grylls do?' Swiftly followed by my own running commentary on what I presumed he would actually do. It was great fun and I drove the whole family mad doing this.

'Romeo, please tickle that trout out of the river so we can barbeque it for tea. Bear would do that.'
He didn't.

Finding myself exhausted most days from our highly energetic escapades yet completely happy and liberated speaking more French than English for almost four weeks of the holiday. It was like being on a Born Survivor boot camp/everlasting family endurance test. We survived, therefore we passed. I'm totally convinced now that I can sleep anywhere on anything with anyone. What a thing to declare for the world to read! You know what I really mean. Wooden floors, inflatable mattresses, tents, sofa beds, cars, planes, boats, real beds! beaches, in apartments, at friends, with the family etc.

The best thing about going home is that the friends remain there. The worst thing about returning here is that many friends have moved on. Some are still with us thankfully. It is something I will always find difficult to cope with, preferring constancy rather than endless change. During the busy summer, I had less time to think about all this. Yet the quietness here makes me think too much. Don't worry it's not always quiet as I am doing some more child-minding this year and I really appreciate my morning peace. Time to read, write, sing, dance, cycle, email, go the post office, prepare lunch and so on.

Inevitably the gulf between us begins to grow back as the holiday fun is truly over and the impending doom of the next school year begins. I'm thinking as a wife and mother here by the way. However, you should know by now that I choose to ''always look on the bright side of life.'' You can too.
Remember that your memory banks are full of some great experiences to see you through any sad times and that we are confident to embrace what is on offer here and now.

Our cleaner of four years has not magically reappeared on our doorstep. Where is he? I remember the day he ding donged the doorbell of our flat in 2011 a few days after we had first arrived here.

Baji: Help

Susie: Hello, do you need help?

Baji: Yes, help.

Susie: Oh! OK, what do you need, water?

Baji: No. Help you.

Susie: No thank you, I'm OK.

Baji: Help, clean house.

Susie: Oh, you want to help me! Really? Erm, I, err, I don't know. Help! Oh OK?

It went something like that anyway. He was very loyal and hard working. After a few months, he would proudly show us a new phone he had bought or some gold jewellery to surprise his wife with when he went on leave. He planted me a pink rose in our garden which is lovely. Surely this was his response to my dead snake and decomposing sea turtle gifts from Romeo and Mini-Me.
I miss Baji but trust that he is safe, well and happy with his family back home in India.

Cleaning my own house again brings me back down to earth and is a safer form of exercise than Just Dance. My back went a bit funny after a recent Just Sweat session. It's OK again now after doing the same dance moves a week later. Now my right shoulder is a bit sore after attempting three full body press ups in a row!
''Keep on moving, don't stop, no. Keep on moving.''

Enough complaining because I am about to become an auntie again very soon and surely my sister-in-law is far more uncomfortable in this stage of the third trimester. You can do this sis! Sad to say I won't be a very good auntie being so far away, but I will love the new little Lucas with all my heart and soul. Babies know how to Skype don't they?

It took ten whole minutes to close my Qatar bank account. I was looking forward to having the QR14.75 in the palm of my sweaty hand. Blimey it's hot here. 'Unfortunately,' the teller told me, 'there is a charge for processing such a small amount, you would end up with zero.' How irritating.
'OK.' Taking a deep breath, I made the momentous decision there and then. 'Can I transfer the money to my husband's account?'
'Yes, of course,' he replied. Grrrrrrrrrr, how annoying!

Watching Big Eyes (2014) with my own tired ones on the plane journey back here reminded me that it is my precious novel and no-one else's whatever becomes of it. Just as those paintings are and always were Margaret's creations.

It's hard to single out and comment on all the gratitude my heart holds for everything our many friends and our families did to make our summer so brilliant. However, I do have to mention the special hotel accommodation only ten doors away from our own tenant occupied home. (To get into the woods, I had to walk quickly past the gate to my home, holding back the tears).

Certainly we got a lot more than we gave when we stayed at this hotel for two weeks, the longest stay of the holiday. A special treat included an Aga which helped to keep us hot and bothered at any time of day, just like being in the desert. Endless food, drink and fun were always available. All our boxes were well and truly ticked with my child psychologist, book-loving friend, her two cricket mad boys and socialist, atheist R.E teaching husband.

Dirtbag and Mini-Me were bunk bedding in the Lego Suite and I have to confess my heartbeat increased upon discovering Romeo and I were to doss down in the Playroom Suite. Exciting! We were warned by our hosts that the sofa bed wasn't too comfy but how could I possibly sleep in such an over stimulated environment anyway? Many games were at our disposal including: Crazy Dentist, Funny Face and Manic Martians. Others naturally drew my attention such as Brainbenders, Shark Bite, Hotspot, Bouncers and even Frustration. Especially with the model Luke Skywalker thrusting his mini light saber in my direction while Romeo snored loudly.
I was satisfied it didn't light up or vibrate.


'' And I miss you - like the deserts miss the rain.''

  With Love xx




Photograph: sledging field up Row Gate taken from Marsh Lane, Shepley by Susie

Back to Life (However Do You Want Me)  by Soul II Soul, 1989

Always Look on the Bright Side of Life by Eric Idle, 1991

Keep on Movin' also by Soul II Soul, 1989

Missing by Everything but the Girl, 1994

Gulp!

I try hard not to be too shocked by the words that spew forth from our offspring's mouths, however, this stunned me for a few seconds last week.

''I don't want breakfast today because I'm fasting.''

OK. Don't panic. Go with the flow Suze.

The pain comes suddenly and I'm also forced to fast due to a 'mild' throat infection, which I find very hard to swallow. MILD, I don't think so Doc, it's keeping me up all night! I feel like I'm gulping down water laced with shards of glass or mini, rough-hewn hessian sacks, with rusty nails sticking out of the sides, (excessive use of I, I know, but I'm ill OK and feeling vulnerable).
Perhaps I'm just as big, soft and defenceless as those Yorkshire puddings Josh made last week? Apparently gingers do have lower pain thresholds than other colours.

My natural defences kick in, producing endless gallons of saliva which I have to swig down or spit out. OUCH, it's so sore! Would the dentist let me borrow one of his saliva sucking machines? The closest I will get to singing today is gargling some salt water solution. Trusting that the drugs will work, I won't listen to The Verve. OUCH, even swilling them down hurts, a lot! What has become of me? How will I ever survive a Yorkshire winter again?

Pain is different for all of us. Taking the introspective lens off myself and using the wide angle, world encompassing one, I see as you do, the horror of yet more terrorist attacks. Where is the antibiotic to permanently stop this suffering? I swallow my pride and my own temporary discomfort, determined once again not to give in to fear.

This will be my last post before the whirlwind summer of fun. I remain perpetually excited. A huge, heartfelt hug full of best wishes, to all those who are leaving this desert for new pastures. Thank you for all your friendship and support. Many thanks also to those of you who have educated the growing minds of dirtbag and Mini-Me. If I really like you I will probably friendship stalk you forever unless you tell me to get lost. To those of you who are staying in this hot, dusty place over the summer and beyond, keep flourishing. We will be returning in August when my Arabian Adventure will continue.

So, as I tie the laces of my trainers ready to walk deliriously back home, this classic track plays on full blast in my head. Odyssey sang it in 1981, but I prefer this 1989 version. It whisks me straight back into the sixth form common room with my girlfriends. We are sniggering and giggling whilst applying fruit flavoured Body Shop balms onto our pure, undefiled lips.

Smile, sing/gargle and dance along with me. Come on, it's only 5.50 minutes of your time.

 www.youtube.com/watch?v=F3fxbZuPRpY

Safe and happy summer to everyone. I know a lot of you will still be working (''Bloody teachers, always on bloody holiday!'' Ay up, sounds like my extremely hard working, lovely brother), but I wish you the same things.

See you soon!

With love,
Susie xx




Our summer book club read is Dissolution by C.J. Sansom if you're interested.

The Drugs Don't Work  by The Verve (1997)

FPI Project, Rich In Paradise/Going Back To My Roots (1989)

Ego Tripping Out

Whilst waking up every day in perpetual excitement at the forthcoming holiday, I know reality will surely sink in at some harsh point when finding myself trapped with the gang in a silver Vauxhall Zafira, on Le road trip to France and Spain during July. Anxiety also creeps upon me as I ponder how to re-create the honeymoon experience we enjoyed at my aunt's house some 18 years ago, with a teenage dirtbag and Mini-Me in tow.
Mission Impossible? (1996).

We are fortunate to have some luscious limes growing on a tree in the backyard, have acquired a gigantic splash pool plus a comfortable sun lounger. It is possible that I am morphing into the 'wonderful world to share,' not of 'brash' Barbie but more likely the UK's Sindy. She had a swimming pool, 'complete with underwater floodlight and foaming jet stream.' We can manage overhead lights and if we all fart together surely we will enjoy the same wonderful effect.

Trying super hard not to begin my sentences with 'I.' This is very challenging when the main subject matter in Susie's Arabian Adventure is Moi and my right of passage through this time in my life. My up to date diary of now. However, who doesn't get annoyed or irritated from time to time by some egocentric woman waffling on and on? Believe me, she even annoys herself!
Universally speaking one of my main aims is to reveal the real challenges any woman of substance has to face as a wife and mother. Although, it's equally as hard for you guys too, so hang on in there suckers.

Speaking of mothers, how shocking to hear that whilst on the very brink of bringing me forth into this world, my own beautiful, blossoming mum was merrily riding pillion on the Yamaha, hugging my handsome dad in her maternity mini dress! It is no wonder I am as I am. Happy to report she did wear a helmet. Is this why I enjoy the thrill of the chase and life in the slower lane of the bicycle seat?

Gently encouraged at an event entitled, Womanhood, to write down the advice we would give to our teenage self with the wisdom acquired in adulthood, this is what I wrote:

Dear Susie,
Don't be afraid, just be yourself. You are good enough just as you are.
Don't try to be anyone else, just be you!

I'm going to tell Ellie these words every week, for the rest of her lovely life.
Hoping you all feel the power of those words for yourselves too, right here, right now.

Another music video I love and would delight to be in with all my wonderful friends and family.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=DL7-CKirWZE

The green fields, hills and woods are no longer a mirage but are actually waiting there on my not so distant horizon once again. Be prepared friends.

With Love xx


Ego Tripping Out  by Marvin Gaye (1979)

You Only Get What You Give  by the New Radicals (1998)

Making tracks and asking questions

We arrived home after the usual Sunday desert trail (we had even waded through water on this one) to discover Mini-Me's boat shoes were missing. I asked him where he had put them, to which he replied,
''I left them on the car tyre to dry.''
Choosing not to get angry, I decide there and then to take up the cycling challenge and retrieve them the following day.
I wake up and set my mind, knowing that I can do anything with determination if I really want to and pedal off at 7.15 am. I battle against the strong winds all the way, waving to the workmen I pass, who wave back. It's already boiling hot. The distance is approximately 12km each way and it takes me one hour to reach the shoes in the sand. Standing in the warm sea I splash water on my face and arms to try and cool me down, the salt stinging my skin. Preparing for the return journey I eat two of my emergency Oreo biscuits and sip my diluted Summer Fruits juice sparingly (I only had 1 litre of fluid with me in my pink Slazenger bottle. I could be Touching The Void (2003) in the desert at any given time).

Thankfully the strong winds push me swiftly, safely all The Way Back (2010). I had to sing to keep myself motivated, stopping occasionally to let my head breathe free from beneath the helmet. Back to base camp I lie down on the rug to recover for a while, satisfied that my mission was successfully accomplished. I also consider that I could have become just as hot and exhausted by shoving my head in the oven and jogging on the spot for two hours. The shoes could have been abandoned and new ones bought, but I remain a frugal Yorkshire girl at heart. Anyway, some nutter could have found them, rescued them and started writing weirdly about them?
My clown is safe and well sitting in my cupboard for now, just in case you were wondering?
I am very fond of him and cannot let him go.

We enjoyed the school Sports Presentation Evening last week. Joshua went up on stage to collect his certificate for representing the school in many fixtures during the 2014/2015 season, alongside many friends. Ellie was wonderfully awarded the trophy for the Under 13's Girls Player of the year. I am so proud of both their achievements and happy they are both enjoying school here. I love to see them both on the stage (Ellie hates the limelight, Josh a bit more confident but very serious). They were both in the Summer Serenade in April, which was lovely. Ellie plays clarinet in the Orchestra and Josh sings in the Junior Choir. The whole event was a showcase of many children's musical talents, encouraged by their hard working music teachers. The Finale featured Ellie playing one of the solo recorder pieces in Adiemus (Karl Jenkins) in-between all the performers on stage singing their hearts out.

It has taken two months of tag team reading to finish Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone at bedtime, with Mini-Me. It's a bit mature for him I think, but he loves the film and fancies himself as Ron Weasley.

I have at last watched and enjoyed both The Theory of Everything (2014) and The Imitation Game (2014). It's good to get to know the wonderful, clever people from our world both past and present. I know that you are all very clever or you wouldn't be reading this.

Here is a short time-lapse video dirtbag made for us from the Barista. She thoughtfully chose the song Heaven by Bryan Adams. He sang the theme tune for Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves (1991) one of the first films Romeo and I watched together.

A while ago I stumbled across a Yorkshire diarist, Anne Lister (1791-1840) who wrote a four million word diary, one sixth of it apparently in code to her female lover! I have been writing diaries since the age of 10 and have many details in them ranging from boring everyday stuff to the many male victims of my teenage obsessions. Sometimes I  think I am very devious in my blog posts chucking in some hidden references to specific friends or family members, usually through song lyrics. I can't help it, it's too much fun and it hopefully keeps the special relationships alive.
Et bien sur, (argh! I can't get the circumflex above the u, the same problem as the Lindt & Sprungli umlaut, despite a Swedish friend and Hungarian family member assisting me. I blame this Arabic keyboard set to English.) I have to continue speaking french for the sake of ma Famille en Paris.
La vie est belle.

By the way, my self-diagnosed mythical Mid-life crisis is a purely positive force which I am celebrating.

I spied with my little eye this dead, desert viper. What does he want to know, I wonder?

Four days of fun

The start of the recent four-day half term holiday took the four of us to the Barasti (an elevated bamboo/palm frond summer house on a private beach, with an additional enclosed air-conditioned room complete with fridge and T.V). It's a kind of Arabian style glamping I suppose. Dirtbag kicks up a bit of a fuss about going but once we arrive she relaxes and enjoys the paradise for what it is. We swim before sunset and while I prepare the basic barbecue dinner, the three play football on the beach. My beloved friends the mosquitoes join us and have a feeding frenzy off both my calves and ankles, resulting in about twelve itchy red lumps. Unfortunately for me, they adore my O positive blood. We all sleep together in the air-conditioned room which is pitch black and don't awake until 8am the following morning.

There are some gentle rolling waves rushing in when we stagger out into the blinding sunlight. Dirtbag can't bear the fun any longer and says she feels sick, so Romeo takes her home. Meanwhile, Mid-life crisis bobs around solo in the surf for a while (Mini-Me is doing some more word searches in his yellow book, highlighting the words found in fluorescent green) when suddenly about thirty flying fish jump out a few metres in front of me, both startling and delighting at the same time. It reminds me of the scene in the Life of Pi (2012) when the fish fly over and into the boat. I love that book and film equally. Unlike the struggling to survive crew members, I didn't need to catch the fish to stop myself from starving as I had already eaten a turkey and smoked cheese sandwich made with farmhouse brown bread for breakfast. I like to think the fish had heard about Susie's Arabian Adventure and just wanted to feature in it.
Once again, this paradise only lasted 24 hours (the allocated booking slot and for a reasonable fee) but I loved every minute of it.

We continued having holiday fun doing more sea swimming and some banana boating. I wanted to insert a video here that I took, but apparently it's too big! (I am exercising the art of self-control now and am not going elaborate on the matter of size again). Imagine the scene: I am hanging on for dear life to both the speed boat and the iPhone. The kids are laughing and screaming hanging onto the inflatable yellow banana, as I am ooh and ahh ing and wobbling all over the place. The recorded footage resembles The Blair Witch Project (1999) on water and in broad daylight. I blame the boat driver, aka Romeo.

Sadly we cancelled our Annual Hash Ball, fearful of Big Brother closely monitoring our fun and also the venue having being suddenly usurped by VIPs. C'est la vie! I remain at peace, my conscience clear, knowing that an even bigger pair of eyes are watching over all our comings and goings. I know this because when I look up into the bright, blue skies or black, starlit nights they wink at me and a still, small voice whispers in the winds, 'It's OK Susie, keep on singing, dancing, swimming, cycling, walking, talking, reading, writing, laughing and living.You're on the right path.'

How much Pharrell style fun, fun, fun I have had, looking after some other children recently. I spent one day with three great kids, (plus our own great kids) laughing, playing and splashing about in the local pool. Then four cute, cuddly days with a six-month-old baby. It brought back many happy memories while creating new ones for me, as I love that feeling of nurturing and caring for others. Why is it so much easier to look after other children than our own? Obviously because we don't have the overwhelming responsibility for them, for the rest of their precious lives.
Warning: This is not an advert for my childminding services and NO Romeo, I do not want another baby!

Speaking of babies I have now completed the first draft of my novel (or novella, which could become a short story after editing?) and printed it out on paper. I walked around the house with it for a while hugging the pages close to my chest, tears of pride and joy welling up in my eyes. It has taken me nine months to create and is 40,110 words long. The next step is really daunting. I have to ask some of my trusted friends to read it and open myself up to receive constructive criticism so I can redraft it. I'm really scared about doing this, but it has to be done.

Recently read: The Rosie Project: (Don Tillman 1) by Graeme Simsion.Very funny.
Currently reading: Another Sky, Voices of conscience from around the world. Utterly compelling as all the authors have been imprisoned or persecuted by their desire to have freedom of expression.
Singing: Can't Deny My Love by Brandon Flowers, I'm Alive by Magenta and Down To The River To Pray by Alison Krauss.
Enjoying some challenging circuit training sessions, so I'm dancing in my dreams to conserve energy.


'' Fear can hold you prisoner. Hope can set you free.''

  The Shawshank Redemption (1994)

Spa Class

Spa Class

''Mirror, mirror on the wall

who is the most stressed of all?''

First skin step is to cleanse:

wipe off the daily grime

stroking upwards, choking,

cotton wool pads absorbing my make-up mask,

skin shining, light-bulb luminous.

The surface reveals

what the heart usually feels

a face that's weathered many storms:

furrowed brow, 

farmers tracks ploughed

between bushy eyebrows,

yellowing white in corners of eyes resting on

purple, puffy pillows,

freckles, moles, faint moustache grows.

Second skin step is to tone:

using the cool refreshing fluid

dare I go deeper

take another layer off myself?

Analyse, memorise.

I see the time I punched a bully in the chin

and shook.

The first boy I tongue kissed under a coat,

grief-stricken tears when Grandma died.

I hear you and me begin to be,

laughing, talking, walking free.

Time together, time apart

yearning, learning, relationship art.

I feel the contraction that came so quick,

half searching down the toilet

feeling sick,

as I tremblingly flushed our baby away

while you both slept, I wept

alone and wept.

Then forced myself to phone NHS Direct.

Third skin step to use a mask:

feel it tighten, maybe crack

as it covers little fissures, bumps and hollows

like a hippo I wallow,

can't eat, can't speak, can just about breathe.

Step four to nourish and moisturise:

relax and shut my eyes.

What lies ahead I do not know

the map is written

I just follow.

Calming cream fills my open pores

as time heals many wounds and sores.

Skin will get thinner with age, I'm told,

my map gets bigger as life unfolds.

''You, my princess are most precious of all

no need to worry, I'm here when you fall.

You are not perfect, 

I don't think that you should

use mirrors to check that you are good,

understood?''

Originally written in 2009, reworked in 2015

Girl Power!

Although I do cry with both joy and sadness, what baby could also be suffering a mid-life crisis? I am definitely not posh. Although being quite sporty, I have to admit that I am not as youthful or flexible as others and I don't consider myself to be scary. Hmm, except when I do occasionally 'lose it' and chuck clothes from a suitcase all around a hotel room in Istanbul screaming at the top of my voice, ''I don't want to go back to (insert swear word and add an ing) Qatar!'' So, the choice was obvious. Ginger Spice.
By the way, my favourite spice is cinnamon.

Did I google how to create a Union Jack dress on Election day or did I just boldly go where my alter ego took me? Obviously the latter. My super sporty sister-in-law, Kate, had brought two patriotic towels for Ellie and Josh during the Easter holidays of 2014. I wonder how many packets of cereal my poor brother, niece and nephew had had to consume to obtain these practical gifts? The Kellogg's logo is imprinted along one edge of each towel, the British Swimming logo along the opposite one.

Bravely I chose to wear one towel which made it almost as short as the real Geri Halliwell dress. I enlisted Romeo's help to safety pin these two advertising edges together down my back and rear. Sternly warning him not to prick me as I was not in the mood and already excited enough to be dressing up yet again. The four pins were soon in position, black leggings beneath and my reliable black sports bra was conservatively concealing my cleavage. Unlike the real Ginger Spice, I didn't want to draw too much attention to myself. I thought I remained very decent despite the shortness of the towel. Killer heels would no doubt result in some damage so I opted for a more sensible, comfortable pair of sandals. I was ready to step back into the 1990's. The party being ''Baby Spice's'' 30th celebration!

Quick flashback through that key decade of life in my twenties:

1990-1993 Bretton Hall College (BA Hons degree in English with Inter-Arts)
1990- met Romeo which sometimes clashed with a new found spiritual side of Susie
1994- worked as a volunteer on a sailing project in Essex
1995-1997 first job as a Care Assistant for children with head injuries in Bury, Lancs
1997- August 9th married Romeo and moved to Formby, Liverpool (where I was also homesick for six years) and worked as a Teaching Assistant with a deaf pupil
1998- 1999 successfully completed the intense PGCE course and proudly became a Teacher of English. Unfortunately, I cried most days unless I played hockey, sang or danced the stress away

Phew! Back to the future, we're in 2015.

I didn't labour in vain for nothing as I was so comfortable in my costume.  It was a very hot night so the sweat from my armpits was easily absorbed in the United Kingdom. How was the Election progressing I kept thinking? Going to the toilet was no problem either as after washing my hands I could simply dry them on my towel dress and return to the fun. It was too hot to dance which was a bit disappointing although at the recent Adidas themed 40th I went to, (equally comfortable in same leggings and sports bra, a green vest top with a homemade retro adidas logo pinned on the front, denim mini-skirt and trainers) I ecstatically got lost in the music for three or four hours. So I definitely had my dancing fix then. However,''I'll tell you what I want, what I really really want.''

I really, really want to be in this Snow Patrol video from 2011.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=GwTXwJg6_VE

I do feel that I have been called out in the dark just now, as I am enjoying some chats with friends on WhatsApp. It's also helping communications between crisis and dirtbag. Responding to my heart and trusting in timing, I phoned my special friend Arthur (97 years old) hoping to catch him on good form, which thankfully, I did. We talked together again for ten minutes or so and I enjoyed hearing his good humour and tinkly laugh, from across the miles. During his six long years away at war, showing love in action as a soldier fighting for his country, Arthur could only communicate by writing letters to his beloved wife, Betty. When I used to visit him every Wednesday morning, at his request I would read some of these letters aloud to him after he had lost his wife and his eyesight failed. I would always silently cry, trying not to smudge the ink on these lovely, letters of love.

The water sports club held its canoe and raft races with a lot of Hoyle participation and commendable rankings. Romeo came 2nd in the canoe race and 1st in a four-man team in the mixed raft race. Mini-Me and Romeo also came 3rd in the doubles canoe race. I laughed my head off coming 2nd in the ladies canoe race and enjoyed every minute with my super team of ''Wonder Women,'' complete with flapping red capes and sequinned eye masks, struggling into 2nd place for the ladies in the raft race. A definite highlight was all of us singing the chorus to ''I'm Every Woman,''by Chaka Khan or Whitney Houston, over and over again, loudly, as we paddled past a struggling male team.

Please don't be too deceived by the recent photo on Romeo's facebook page. In real life, I'm chubbier and more wrinkly. Mum and I decided long ago that we both look much better when we smile, even though smiling creates more wrinkles. I'm posting a poem next time called Spa Class which I wrote in 2009. Although it's very personal I hope it speaks to you in some positive way.

I've now written 32,418 words of my novel.
I aim to finish this first draft by the end of May.

My heart leaps as I realise I will be coming home again very soon.

''Make it last forever friendship never ends''

Lyrics from Wannabe by the Spice Girls (1996)

Sheik, rattle & roll

We were warmly greeted at Sheik Faisal's Museum for our allotted 1-3 pm time slot and told that, ''Unfortunately, there wasn't a tour guide available today.''
''No problem,'' I said. She then replied, ''You are thirty-five minutes late,'' and I thought, welcome to Hoyle time. The everlong Lucas part of me will always strive to be on time, if not at least a good bit earlier to appointments, parties, hash runs! I do get a bit stressed if I am late for things which, unfortunately, appears to have rubbed off onto Ellie and Josh.
Having walked through the giant wooden doors and across numerous brightly patterned carpets, I wondered if I had Narnia-like entered into the prop department on The Game of Thrones film set. Instantly I think of Jon Snow. I wasn't too impressed with a couple of different wigs I saw (a long blonde one and a black frizzy one) on some vacant mannequins modelling various outfits I would never ever fit into.
''Is this a dagger which I see before me?'' Yes, said the information card next to it. It is a Mogul one with an ivory handle inlaid in gold. A nineteenth Century Sudanese knife nearby is wearing a real crocodile cover on it. I saw a pair of fighting axes and an Ottoman sabre and plenty of guns on show, which practically blew me away. How many weapons does one man need? There were even some English and Scottish arrow heads used in the Crusades on display.
''Let's try and get some spares for the fire engine,'' I suggested as we passed the colourful, Dodge truck collection. We were having some work done on our red one and had kindly been lent a green one for this trip. We had it washed later in Doha while we went shopping and couldn't find it for ages in the car park. It was an enlightening moment when I suddenly realised we were expecting to see a shiny red one instead of a shiny green one.

Le Camping
I really wanted to camp overnight somewhere during the holidays. Due to Ellie's training schedule and Bruce sitting we couldn't go with our friends so had to plan to go solo another night. I nearly was literally by myself. Ellie was at a sleepover so I thought it would be a great opportunity to lure my boys out into the desert. Talk about reluctant. Golf and T.V were controlling their lives and I wasn't having it anymore. Any amount of reasoning, reassuring or tempting seemed to fall on deaf ears. I had to threaten the only alternative.
''Well, if you don't want to come with me, I'll go on my own,'' I said nonchalantly and truly meant it. It seemed to do the trick, leaving me free to go Wild (2014) like Cheryl Strayed some other time in my future.
I was content to think that we could concentrate on just being instead of doing.

I sent Romeo off to the shop to buy some fresh fish, I was planning a Susie Stein outdoor barbecue special. Fish, squirted with lemon juice, sprinkled with herbs, wrapped in foil and cooked over glowing coals. Perfect. I thought it maybe asking too much of the lads to go spear fishing for their supper.
It only took us about three hours to get everything ready and eventually we set off.
Hunting high and low, we finally agreed on a suitable pitch not too far away to be able to access the golf course easily the following morning (it was part of the compromise and anyway it gets too hot to hang around for long).  Romeo expertly erected the 4 man tent (a raft race prize won last year) while Mini-Me and mid-life crisis went for a dip in the sea.
We were camped approximately 7 metres from the rocky shore. As the setting sun soon left us, the beautiful stars came out to dazzle us. Mini-Me was peacefully doing his word search by torchlight until le poisson sans frites was ready. Then after many gooey marshmallows were devoured we sat and chatted. I kept my eyes on the sky and was rewarded at the right time to see a shooting star, for my eyes only. I was ecstatic, of course.
I have to use my wishes wisely as most of my dreams really do come true.

The wind picked up and as we settled down to sleep the tents sides flapped loudly. It sounded like someone shaking a big packet of crisps in your face. Do you remember those crisps that had a little blue packet of salt inside you had to empty and shake, (Smith's Salt 'n' Shake)? That kind of noise but continuous and loud. A fair amount of tossing and turning ensued, but I expected that. We eventually slept and the next time I stirred it was dead calm until, zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzziiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiipppppppppppppppppppppp, followed by a waterfall.
The big light switched on at about 5 am. Mini-Me awoke saying he had slept well. It is wonderful to see this part of the world at first light, pale and water coloured, the colours defining as the sun is rising.

Writing in retrospect I consider how very fortunate we are to be able to camp for fun when so many are currently forced to camp in and around Kathmandu, for survival, and with no homes to return to.


The following is from The Five People You Meet In Heaven by Mitch Albom.

The Blue Man smiled. ''No, Edward. You are here so I can teach you something. All the people you meet here have one thing to teach you.''
Eddie was sceptical. His fists stayed clenched.
''What?'' he said.
''That there are no random acts. That we are all connected. That you can no more separate one life from another than you can separate a breeze from the wind.''

Another Kitchen Drama

The second recently suffered sandstorm summoned Bad Omens for me as the church service I usually attend was cancelled, as was Ellie's training. The day after brought forth a raging teenage dirtbag tornado, which I can only assume was born of frustration.
I must introduce her to James.

                                                           Cast (in order of appearance)

                                                           Susie       Suzanne Hoyle

                                                           Ellie         Eleanor Jayne Hoyle

It is 4.15 pm. The bright UFO lights are once again blazing down upon me as I re-enter the domesticity I had escaped from (body surfing in champagne or more likely cava, with Mini-Me). There is a baking war zone awaiting me. Un-mixed mixture was coagulating in a bowl. At least 100g of butter was congealed in the sink. Used utensils, flour trails, egg shells and sugar grains were lining the shores of the battlefield. Meanwhile, the milk was relaxing on the work surface with his blue hat off, enjoying some time chilling out of fridge prison.

Susie (shouting)                      Ellieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Ellie (entering the kitchen)        I wanted to surprise you but it went wrong.

Susie (calmly)                         That's great thanks, but please can you tidy up.

Ellie (slightly screeching)          I'm trying to do something nice for you and you tell me
                                              off. Well, I won't bother in future.

Susie (trying to remain calm)    It's really lovely of you but I need you to take
                                              responsibility and clear up after yourself.

Ellie (screeching louder)           Agghhh! It's not fair, am I your maid or something?

Susie (jokingly, hoping humour will cut through the tension)

                                              Come on Cinders just wash up will you.

Ellie (like the nuclear weapon Fireball)

                                              Just make fun of me then, it's not fair.
                                              YOU'RE SO MEAN!

At which point Ellie begins frantically washing up, flinging Fairy Liquid lemon scented suds everywhere. (Where is my fairy godmother when I need her?)
Susie torments the teenage soul further, unable to keep calm and carry on any longer.

Susie (meanly)                       That plate's not clean.

Ellie picks up the unclean, plain white plate to scrub again. Soap sud slippery it falls from her fair hand and smashes into smithereens on the floor tiles, Greek plate throwing style. Susie walks silently away from the tragedy only to Tourette-like curse and swear uncontrollably as she hangs washing on the line outside. Immediately the air around her turns dark blue and black like a big, nasty bruise. When she calmly re-enters the disaster zone, Ellie is on her knees with a red dustpan and brush sweeping up the plate shards.

Ellie                                        Sorry mum.

Susie                                      It's OK Ellie. Thanks for tidying up.        


A ceasefire is resumed.

Easter Holidays

I settle down for my Wednesday night film ritual, having psyched myself up to watch American Psycho (2000). I like to visually challenge myself it seems. I'm looking in Patrick Bateman's fridge and sort of squeal and laugh simultaneously when I see the severed female head in a plastic bag sitting on a shelf. At exactly the same time our front door (which has been left ajar) slams loudly shut as the mother of all sandstorms makes her sudden, dramatic entrance, raging all around the Middle East. Pausing the film, I inspect the swirling orange coloured sand through the window, obscuring everything like a dense fog. The palm fronds are flapping wildly in the winds and I realise that I am more frightened by the weather than the film.
I'm already snacking on grains of sand filtering into the house so I don't need any crisps, popcorn or chocolate as I carry on watching. Like Bateman, I narrate my everyday activities in detail, I also enjoy music and exercise. And I really do like L'Occitane en Provence toiletries and have recently acquired some delightful Fleur d'Or & Acacia hand cream, a belated birthday gift from a kind friend. The similarities cease here. The only weapons of choice I have are a pair of small, stainless steel nail scissors, some tweezers and the occasional waxing strip (I do like a freshly sharpened pencil though). All of the afore mentioned are tools verging into the realms of self-harm depending how much pain I can cope with inflicting upon myself. I certainly couldn't hurt anyone else, not even a fly. Although I must confess to killing at least a couple of blood thirsty mosquitoes in self-defence.

The following day school was closed due to 'extreme weather conditions,' so a great start to the holidays. It reminded me of some super snow days we had sledging in the fields with friends in Shepley. Except that we were stuck inside, choking on sand and dust that no sooner had you removed, returned with an apocalyptic vengeance.
I did not predict such strong winds of change and chaos!

On a more positive note, I am happy to report that the new swimsuit has been well and truly wet tested, chlorinated in both pools and baptised in the Gulf. It seems to be bearing up and holding 'everything in its right place.' I know Thom Yorke of Radiohead wasn't referring to some newly purchased Speedos with his song title but to a 17th Century proverb as follows,

A place for everything and everything in its place
(The Oxford Book of Quotations, Wikipedia).

I studied my PGCE with a lovely Liverpudlian lad who was and still is in a band called Clinic.They supported Radiohead on their Kid A Tour, playing under a big top in Warrington in the year 2000. Romeo and I got free tickets to the gig which was great. Watch the video for Miss You by Clinic on full screen, it's psychedelically cool. I've hopefully added the correct link at the end of this post.

Bruce the dog came to stay with us while his lovely owner went buying more crazy costumes for the fluffy little Pomeranian pooch that he is. His wardrobe is better than mine. I, unfortunately, managed to allow Mini-Me to transform himself into a strawberry as he got really badly sunburnt one day. His freckles resembled the seeds in the fruit of his round, red face. Bad mother. Other Easter fun included egg painting and roll racing them with many lovely kids and sharing a whole lamb that had been cooked on a crucifix-like spit over an open fire, Argentine style. We also dug up an overgrown, non-fruit producing, banana tree. I shook the corm roots at Josh, terrifying him by pretending it was Medusa's head. Sheikh Faisal's Museum, Another Kitchen Drama and Le Camping are coming to your screens soon.

One afternoon/evening while Mini-Me and I were partying on the beach in the straw house one of the Three Little Pigs had built, Romeo was supporting teenage dirtbag at her first athletics competition at an American School in Doha. She has been training with Doha Athletic Club set up and run by Liz McColgan for three months or so now and is really improving in strength and speed. It's inspiring to watch these young people train and Liz is so great with them, encouraging and pushing them to achieve their potential and having a laugh with them too. I am so proud of Ellie's commitment and proud of myself for putting my foot down on the accelerator of the fire engine, taking her to some of the training sessions. She usually attends three sessions per week which last an hour and half with an hours journey both there and back. Phew!  Romeo does worry about me driving into Doha. I assure him that I am fine as I always signal my intentions whilst praying my way around the manic roundabouts.

Once the dust settled after yet another shamal, Josh and I cycled down to the beach to have some fun together. The winds were still strong, creating crashing waves which I managed to coax him into. It was a paradise for only us two and as he punched the breaking waves, shrieking with delight, he told me it was like swimming in champagne. That's my boy.

Thank you for continuing to read me and for your kind words of encouragement. I'm fast approaching 5000 page views now which makes me a bit giddy. I trust I'm brainwashing you all in a purely positive way.
'I think my mask of fake insanity will never slip,' Yorkshire Psycho (2015). Ha ha ha ha!

Reading Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett (second book club choice, it's BRILLIANT. I should be reading The Five People You Meet in Heaven by Mitch Albom)
Listening/singing/dancing to, Let The Good Times Be Never Ending by The Charlatans from their new album Modern Nature
Other films recently watched:
Romeo and Juliet, Baz Luhrmann version (1996) my Romeo's choice, we watched it together with dirtbag
Frozen (2013) just me and Mini-Me, I LOVE it!
Rio 2   (2014) the family Hoyle and Bruce the dog
The Help (2011) and One Day (2011) solo viewing to enable lots of laughing, crying etc in private

www.youtube.com/watch?v=dqBOqEy7GKg

Black Clouds

The black clouds that have been hanging over the community brought unwelcome news to some that their services were no longer required. The company we work for is cutting its workforce quite heavily due to falling oil prices. It has been an anxious waiting game for the teachers and stressful for most. Their choice removed and harsh decisions made. Engineers and other employees also in our community still apprehensively await their fate. It seems fortune favours us staying here for a while longer. I selfishly feel strangely relieved at having more time to allow things to carry on as they are currently doing. Not having to quickly change paths, to find new jobs and new schools. Romeo did boldly announce that he had seen an art job going in Rwanda. Wasn't our recent hotel escape exciting enough for him I wonder?

We must take comfort in knowing that the map is written and we are all in the right place at the right time. I'm lucky I can write about it. Unfortunately for some it's a great upheaval with not too much time to realign. I feel sad for those good teachers and friends who have to go, not by their own free will, but I trust that new and exciting doors will be opened for them to walk through.
For the present moment, though we stumble together through the sand dunes of despair we do not sink. I quickly rearrange letters and create the positive word praised out of despair. Think of something that makes you happy and joyful in these times.
Yemen and the recent plane crash cause me much grief and sorrow. So I grab the word evil and hold it in my palm. Then I place it carefully on my thumb and flick it into the air as though tossing a coin. When it lands gently back into my other open hand I can clearly see that it has turned itself around and now reads live. And live we must, without fear. Hoping against hope for a better and brighter future.
Listen to Move On Up (1970) by Curtis Mayfield  and My Silver Lining (2014) by First Aid Kit to lift your spirits.

And now for some more Susie trivia.
The dreadful time comes to purchase a new swimsuit. The automatic doors wouldn't magically open for me at M&S, getting an already challenging shopping trip off to a discouraging start. I do eventually break through the barrier and get inside the shop among the swimwear. Surprisingly, I soon settle on a pleasant aquamarine one-piece with built in gastric band. Well, not-so-secret slimming side panels and tummy control feature, now that I've told you all. It will highlight my re-surfacing varicose veins perfectly. Focusing on my two best assets higher up I gleefully realise it will also further enhance my eyes and look great with my wig! My old swimsuit was becoming very thin in parts forcing me to wear a sports bra underneath it to remain respectable. Although come to think of it, if I continue to wear it well and truly out, whilst re-enacting the beach scene From Here to Eternity (1953) on our sandy shores, I could easily get deported. Another possible mission to consider.

After recently learning that Axl Rose is an anagram (work it out) from the witty northern souls Radcliffe and Maconie (BBC Radio 6 Music) I begin to devise my very own anagram pseudonym.
Unnazes Leyho and Ennazus Ohley are OK, but I prefer Zanusen Heylo. If I stick with Susie I could be Issue Heylo but I may have to wait until I get to Heaven for that one.

If any dark clouds hang above your heads, wherever you are, just remember they will eventually blow over. May the winds of change guide you swiftly and gently on to your new adventures or keep you safely in your present ones for now.

With Love xx

The Great Escape

I decide that the time has come. Boldly stating that I had a secret mission to accomplish I cycle off under the grey clouds. Seeing some dustbin men clearing rubbish along the wall makes me panic. What if they have got to him before me? I cycle even faster, hoping against hope, adrenaline pumping.
He's still there.
Gently I pick him up and shake off the sand. We smile at each other before I carefully place him in the plastic bag I brought for his journey. As soon as I start to pedal again large drops of water splash on me. Is he crying, am I? No, it's just the heavens declaring their response.This time I sing.

'' Here comes the rain again 
  falling on my head like a memory
 falling on my head like a new emotion''

When we get home the sun is shining. I hide him away for the rest of the day.
The storm arrives in the evening and I can't resist watching it from an open window. I flinch backwards every time lightning forks, eyes blinking.
He's safe now. Timing is everything.

The next day I carry out my premeditated plan and put him on a delicates wash but worry about him drowning in the suds. He survives, of course, coming out clean and fresh, smelling of Ariel perfume. I leave him alone for a while to adjust to his new surroundings and dry out from his dizzy spin in the machine. A couple of days later I summon up the courage to kiss him for the first time and notice he looks a bit pale. He may need some vitamins after all he's been through. For now I stuff him with an old flannel to lift his spirits before mending his torn trousers in lime green cotton with a simple blanket stitch. Now he looks as good as he can do after being abandoned, windswept, sunbleached, submerged, rained on, then finally rescued.
The boat remains tethered. I hope he likes his surprise.

I furtively place him in my small, silver suitcase among my special occasion underwear collection. He seemed quite happy to sleep there too as I didn't invite him to join us in the giant, white marshmallow soft bed. I had plenty to smile about using my new pink Oral-B vibrating toothbrush, subconsciously celebrating World Oral Health Day as I escaped into this brave new world for exactly 24 hours.

Here Comes The Rain Again
Eurythmics (1984)