Valentine's Day

The Mid-Life Crisis Strikes Back - a monologue

It is around midday. Susie calmly creeps up and captures Ellie who has already cornered herself in a comfy red chair, bewitched by something on the computer. Susie catches Ellie stuffing three pieces of Lindt Creation Mousse au Chocolat DARK into her metal-filled mouth. Susie is beside herself with divine retribution.

A thoughtful aside: surely the wonderful chocolatiers Lindt & Sprungli should be paying me for advertising their products by now? And action!

Susie     Aha! You're not going to get fit eating that!

Ellie raises one eyebrow, her red earphones drowning out my gleefully delivered comment. In for a penny in for a pound, as they say. Deep breath before we begin our lightsaber duel.

Susie     You look like an orphan.

Help me, this strike has a far more negative impact upon the crisis than the poor dirtbag.
Ellie smirks a little, then grins. So she can hear me.

Susie     By the way, I love you.


While Romeo is at work (Saturday morning art class, very unusual?) and Mini-Me is entertaining himself, I make the first move. Grabbing romance in the palms of both hands, I gently squash and squeeze the mixture I've made, into a smooth ball. Carefully I roll it out, then firmly press the small cookie cutter into the dough, heart after heart after heart. Should I sprinkle some Middle Eastern promise onto the biscuits before baking them? Could Cupid's arrow shoot us again in our comfortably assumed marital positions?
He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not...........
Picking off the daisy petals in my head, I know that despite being wildly passionate about many other things, he does indeed love me a lot.

I enjoyed surprising my family with the multitude of melt-in-your-mouth cookies. Romeo also surprised me coming up trumps with a homemade card. It displays our photo-shopped fancy dressed faces, in front of a stunning desert sunset.
 
With love in my left ear and peace in my right, I whole-heartedly hoped that the ceasefire in the Ukraine would be properly observed. The gold, star-shaped, engraved earrings, painlessly pierce my ears but my soul is stabbed when yet more beheadings are carried out and I cry.

John Lennon sings Imagine to me in my head xx

Racing and Riding Along

I went to see some camel races in our very own car caravan convoy. The camels run around a sandy track with a remote-controlled robot strapped onto their humped backs. Owners control these robots from their Land Cruisers whilst driving alongside them on a purpose built road at high speeds hooting and tooting. We chose to chase camels by driving sensibly on the other spectator safe, purpose built road. It was quite bizarre.
One recent Friday morning Josh and I joined a larger group to cycle the Tour of Dukhan. The maximum distance of three laps within the compound added up to approximately 15km. I think he enjoys cycling just as much as I do. He whizzed off with his friends and I whirled around with mine.
The women's cycling Tour of Qatar finished their first stage at Dukhan beach so we obviously went to see this. Whilst we were waiting close to the finish line, helicopters buzzed overhead like gigantic dragonflies. Lizzie Armistead, a fellow West Yorkshire lass, won the whole Tour. I'm sure she will be riding in the first ever Tour de Yorkshire this May. The final stage of this three-day tour will pass through the lovely village of Cawthorne, home to the lovely folk singer, Kate Rusby. It will then whizz past the top of my much-loved street, Marsh Lane, Shepley before hurtling along into Marsden, home of my literary hero, Simon Armitage (I'm his Number One Fan but not in a Misery (1990) kind of way).
I want to go home!
The men's first stage of the Tour of Qatar brought Sir Bradley Wiggins to Dukhan, riding for Team Sky. He looked so small as I loomed manically next to him. I don't need too much encouragement to speak to 'famous' people, just a nudge in the right direction when finding myself in the right place at the right time. He was perched on the back of a support car so I sort of leaned against the back windscreen, slightly towards him for the photo shoot. He looked like a fragile lycra clad, blackbird, waiting to fly off. I wanted to pick him up and twirl him above my head like a baton or give him a fireman's lift around the car park. Anything to make him smile and inject some life into him. Maybe he too thought I was an illegal substance seller? It was probably due to the high level of female pheromones pulsing out of me, being surrounded by so many super fit men on super cool bikes. He didn't do too well throughout the Tour, but I'm not blaming myself for that.
The winds picked up again and started swirling the sand around for the primary school sports day. It resembled a desert army boot camp survival exercise - for the teachers anyway! The kids were all hyper, laughing, running, jumping, throwing, all the while inhaling dust and sand into their happy little souls. One of the senior school Qatari boys I worked with as a Teaching Assistant saw me and said ''I miss you, miss,'' filling me with that warm fuzzy feeling and reminding me of how we may all affect many people positively, without always realising it.
It was National Sports Day the next day when everyone gets a day off to do something sporty. Winds were even stronger, so many outdoor activities were cancelled. The ensuing disappointment reminded me of the start of many cricket seasons in England when at least four consecutive matches would have to be cancelled due to relentless downpours.


 '' Everywhere you go, always take the weather with you,''

                                                          Crowded House
                                                             

Out Of The Sinking

A magnetic force draws me back to him again. Will he still be there? Will he look the same? I find him, slowly but surely submerging.
Standing above him I smile down upon his sandy face.
Still, I daren't touch him.
What's that? I hear him say something. No, he's singing something, softly.

''Hey baby do, just what you're thinking,
 know I know it, yeah, if I'm sinking,
 know I feel it, I know you feel it too
 across the water, there's a boat that
 will take us away.''

Can my clown really be singing to me?
I know all things are possible if we believe in them.

I saw the boat when I cycled up to the Coastguard Station last week. The call to prayer began just as I got off my bike. Feeling peaceful, I sat down on the hard, shell-strewn sand. A warm breeze blew from the south, gently caressing the sea. It etched the surface, drawing fine black wrinkles across its aquamarine beauty.
I could easily return there, wade out into the shallows and untether the boat. I would have to get him first though. Carefully, gently pick him up, bring him home and put him on a delicates wash in the machine. I could hang him on the washing line to dry overnight. The next day we could make our way to the boat together, ''out of the sadness, far from the madness, into sunlight, out of the sinking,'' and escape.



Lyrics are taken from Out Of The Sinking by Paul Weller, off his brilliant Stanley Road (1995) album.

Kitchen Drama

It's 7.20pm. Bright UFO lights glare down from the kitchen ceiling. Susie is wearing a very large, green hoodie (hood down) and beige, baggy trousers. She is stood holding the fridge door open. Secretly, she sneaks one piece of Lindt Excellence Intense Orange Dark Chocolate (what a mouthful) into her mouth.

Suddenly, as if by magic, Little Miss Teenager appears. She is sporting a vest and some shorts, showing off her lithe, athletic frame. The bath size, towel turban on her head makes her stand taller than Susie. The confrontation begins from the other side of the fridge door.

Ellie     ''It's not surprising that you're fat and unhealthy.''

[ Oh no, here we go again, I knew it was to be continued...... ]

Susie     ''I'm not fat!''

Ellie      ''Yes, you are and you look like a drug dealer in that hoodie.''

Susie     ''How do you know what a drug dealer looks like?''

Ellie       ''I watch ci.''

At which point we both laugh out loud, our unique sounds harmonising together. I freeze frame this moment in my mind forever. The bitter-sweetness of the chocolate mingles with my saliva, momentarily melting away the misunderstandings between a mid-life crisis and a teenage dirtbag.

January Half Term Adventures 2015

The holiday began with us watching The Secret Life of Walter Mitty (2013), which I absolutely loved and want to watch again very soon. The next day we hosted a barbeque, enjoying the company of others as well as sharing food and drinks together. When most of the friends were leaving an unexpected visitor arrived and ended up staying with us for four days. The tiny mouse proved to be as elusive as Leonardo DiCaprio's character, Frank Abagnale Jr. in Catch Me If You Can (2002). UB40 should have been singing, 'Rat In Mi Kitchen,' after the Golf Open in Doha that very same night but unfortunately they were cancelled due to the death of the King of Saudi Arabia. Our Qatari flag on the Jebel flew at half-mast for three days respectfully.
I was really glad we had our very own Mr Jingles for company, (The Green Mile, 1999) and not a rat again, which we did have when we moved into this Villa last September. It had emerged from the open pipe at the back of the toilet in the en-suite bathroom. AGH! 'There's a rat in mi bathroom what am I gonna do?' I chose not to introduce myself to him, trusting the various armies of pest control and Pied Pipers of Dukhan to send him back to the sewers.
Our sweet, little mouse enjoyed his mini-break, including a manic game of hide and seek in Ellie's bedroom (where she became a total Psycho, wielding a bread knife and saying she was going to kill IT, to which I replied she had to eat IT if she did) and a piece of 'irresistibly smooth white Lindt Lindor chocolate.' Eventually, Mr Jingles was cornered, captured and let loose.
Romeo took me by surprise one day and asked me what I wanted to do. Immediately I thought 'I want to go to Antarctica for 3 months by myself'' and then said, ''Let's go and find the Richard Serra sculptures in the desert and visit the Mathaf (arab museum of modern art).'' So we did. The desert piece is called ''East-West/West-East'' and for a brief moment I could have been back in the Yorkshire Sculpture Park. The sandscape was blurring my mind and bringing back many memories of lovely arty walks and talks with friends. Dragging the kids around the gallery to see an Iranian artist's (Shirin Neshat) exhibition entitled ''Afterwards,''was not as peaceful as standing in the desert looking at four, 50 foot tall, steel monoliths.
I have scaled the dizzy heights of Ironing Mountain as courageously as Tommy Caldwell and Kevin Jorgeson did recently climbing the Dawn Wall of El Capitan in Yosemite National Park. Smoothing over the creases, ironing out my worries as my mum does every week, I did not stop until I had reached the bottom of the pile.
One morning I awoke only to presume I had been flamenco dancing in my sleep as my right arm was above my head and my left arm across my body. Despite the unknown exertion, I felt relaxed and well rested. I even had enough energy to encourage Joshua to make a clay penguin and seal for his school project.
What holiday is complete without a few desert trails to find and follow (Qatar West Coast Hash House Harriers) eating a homegrown pomegranate and a refreshing dip in the currently very cold Gulf? Brrrrrrrr!

I hope you are enjoying your own adventures. Whether they are big or small they are what make you, who YOU are.
Happy February! x