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)

March Madness

Returning towards the compound from the local shop I am stopped at a roundabout by the police for a random spot check.

''ID and Licence.''

''Oh no! Sorry officer they are in my purse at home. Sorry. I have my Istimara (vehicle registration card).'' Fluttering my eyelashes beneath my sunglasses and over apologising seems to work wonders.

''You have Licence?''

''Of course I do! Sorry, it's at home.''

 And really, of course, I do. I am very honest (despite many other flaws) and cannot tell a lie no matter how hard I try. Which is annoying as I seem to get myself into more trouble by being so honest! I resist going for the full monty, deciding not raise my glasses and flash blue mischief at him. Leave the poor man alone he's only doing his job. Instead, I choose to smile my most radiant beam of joy at him. He reciprocates and I can't help noticing how badly he needs some dental treatment.

''It's OK, OK, OK.''

''OK.Thank you, bye, sorry, bye!'' Phew.

As I accelerate away from my misdemeanour, I'm chuckling and singing along with the Electronic lyrics zooming around in my head, '' I've been getting away with it all my life.''

Josh dressed up as his hero one day during the school book week celebrations. He looked more like he was going to a wedding or christening in his navy trousers and checked shirt than James Bond. Some days if we are lucky we get the first few notes of the Bond theme tune played to us on a recorder. Usually between 5.30 and 6.00 am.
Supermum (not in fancy dress) cycled to the rescue, delivering 007's forgotten P.E kit. At least he had remembered to put his black plastic gun in his back trouser pocket. It was worth the trip as I got to see so many Supermen, Superwomen, Batmen, Batwomen and Spidermen using their wonderful powers playing happily together at first break, proving that ''we can be heroes, just for one day.''

Friday the 13th brought a couple of surprises my way when Romeo and Mini-Me returned home with a whole dead sea turtle and snake. I was confounded for a while, did my hunter-gatherers expect me to create some kind of nourishing soup with their catch? My culinary skills are already being challenged daily, having to nutritionally balance the diets for two young athletes, Romeo and Juliet's conflicting appetites and now two visiting senior citizens.

The wonderful time came for us adults to dress up again and attend a Mad Hatter's Tea Party. No-one drank any tea as far as I could see. I struggled into the four sizes too small costume which is like a child's leotard with a full black net tutu attached to it. I can't velcro it up at the back so I have to wear something under and over it to remain decent. It's like having a permanent wedgy. Am I the Queen of Hearts or Tarts? I baked some more biscuit hearts to share, (Valentine's Day) revealing that I am more concerned with love than lust.
It's my first public outing with the neon blue wig on, a momentous occasion by all accounts. Drinking my poison from a dainty teacup helps to limit the liquid intake as it is such a rigmarole to go to the toilet. Probably how my Elizabethan ancestors felt on a daily basis trussed up in their corsets and gowns. Everyone looked great and we had so much fun playing silly games together. Our hostess, one of the kindest cards in the pack, went to a lot of trouble to make sure all her guests had a good time. It was reassuring to know that I am in fact living amongst some lovely lunatics here. My tutu took over at around midnight forcing me to attempt the huge Flashdance leap in the air as Irene Cara sang/shouted the lyric, ''What a feeling!''
I'm pleased to report no injuries were sustained and I could happily cycle home, wig on my handle bars, empty teapot and cups clinking together in my cool bag.

Would you believe it on the way to the shop a couple of days later I get stopped again. Different officer, perfect teeth. Fortunately this time I had seen the flashing blue lights, done a quick U-turn, returned home to get my riyal-less purse, bursting with the necessary cards.

''ID and Licence.''

Smugly I hand them over. It's cloudy today so I don't need my sunglasses. However, I sense no nonsense with this younger man.

''Istimara.''

Agh! Panic! ''I'm in my friend's car. Oh, hang on, it's here somewhere. Wait a minute. It's here, I've got it. There you go!'' Phew.

Good job my car lending friend is organised.
I was a Brownie, Girl Guide and a Young Leader so I really should always be prepared.



Getting Away With It by Electronic (1990)

Heroes by David Bowie & Brian Eno (1977)

Flashdance...What a Feeling by Irene Cara (1983)

Embracing Nature's Law and Gravity

Trying to keep it exciting I bravely take it outside into the back yard. It's warm enough to wear my bikini top and shorts and I feel liberated to do so. With only the birds, a big black and white butterfly and some biting ants (left ankle, ouch!) for an audience, I begin. Holding it comfortably yet firmly in my right hand, I start really fast, then slow down (is that the right way to do it?). It soon becomes a steady rhythm I can control. My HB pencil swoops and glides, scratching its gentle sounds onto the grey lined white paper. The pages of my notebook are soon full of letters joined into words, creating sentences hopefully making sense. Apologies if I led you down a different path.
It's great being able to write outside and it gives my eyes a break from the computer screen. My right eye has been a bit sore lately, possibly due to a small sand dune forming in it. Or there may actually be a large Biblical plank in there which I need to remove during this season of Lent.

Ellie looked so lovely and happy going off to her first ever concert one evening last week. She went with a friend to see Ed Sheeran and his guitar at the Qatar National Convention Centre. He was born in hippy Hebden Bridge, West Yorkshire. Is there no end to the talent found in my home county? Looking like an H&M catalogue model, Ellie cat walked down the drive to the waiting car. I almost cried at being left behind, not sharing in this coming of age moment with her. I suppose going to see The Stylistics at Huddersfield Town Hall with my mum was exciting for me at the time, however vague this recollection is. The thrills came much thicker and faster for me at 17 years of age travelling to St. George's Hall in Bradford by bus to see The Pasadenas with my girlfriends. Hamish did smile, wink and sing just to us didn't he? I will save my eclectic list of concerts I have attended for another time.

Threading the thin fishing line-like string onto the small 3D, glow-in-the-dark planets was a tricky operation. Gravity seemed to pull them out of my fingers and thumbs. Hanging them from Joshua's top bunk to conspire with the constellations already in the space there, weighed heavily on my shoulders. What if I put Venus and Uranus in the wrong position? What in Heaven's name could transpire then? I consult Joshua's Big Book of Knowledge and try my very best to precisely position all the planets in their true alignments. Once again, I marvel at the awesomeness of the cosmos.
We awake to discover Saturn has fallen out of space and onto his duvet below. It appears as though we will need some stronger force other than the adhesive putty provided to keep it in orbit.

As I mentally begin to prepare for the fast approaching swimsuit season I physically attempt some exhausting aero-boxing, upper body and fat burning workouts. It will be a wonderful moment when I arrive at the same state of mind as American writer Gertrude Stein (1874-1946), described as being 'big and floppy and sandaled and not caring a damn.' Why does the force of gravity have to be so strong?

Be encouraged by Embrace as I am, (the band are from Brighouse, wait for it, in West Yorkshire).

 '' You should never fight your feelings,
   You have to follow nature's law.''

Gravity was written by Coldplay and given to Embrace. It's on their album Out of Nothing (2004).
The above lyrics are from their song Nature's Law, from the album This New Day (2006). That summer Joshua was born, my brother Neil married Kate and Nigel's brother Eddy married Claire.
Keep embracing those you love. I will have big hugs waiting for my mum and dad when they arrive tonight.


''A writer should write with his eyes and a painter paint with his ears.''

                                                                                      Gertrude Stein

Accidental Artist

Two blog issues are annoying me at the moment. I am highly frustrated that I cannot put the two tiny dots above the u in Sprungli. Please continue to imagine the umlaut until I solve this. My white line photo is also annoying me as I want each new photo I post to appear on the facebook link. I'm sure you must be bored with it by now. Infuriatingly, I keep singing the song by Grandmaster Flash every time I see it or any white lines anywhere, reminding me not to take drugs.

'' (Don't let it blow your mind away) Baby!
  (And go into your little hideaway 'cause white lines blow away)''

Encouraged recently to do a random act of kindness, I found myself obliviously buying some phone credit for a total stranger. Punching Romeo's phone number into the machine I accidentally pressed one wrong digit and the kindness was easily transmitted. It made me happy to think that some unknown recipient could phone their loved ones on behalf of my ineptness. Romeo didn't share the joy. Well, it is his hard earned money I'm randomly yet kindly frittering away.

Extracting my toast from the toaster one morning I gasp in amused delight to see a semi-melted white plastic fork stuck to my piece of pain de Campagne? It was a surreal breakfast that would have no doubt inspired Salvador Dali. Obviously I didn't eat the spoon.

My blog continues to help me filter out all this crazy stuff whizzing around in my head and hopefully leaves me clearer in mind to write the novel. I think I am about half way there now. According to my research, a novel is between 60,000 and 80,000 words long. I have written 25,000 words so far. Maybe it will be a shorter novel than normal, a novella perhaps. This brings up the age old question, does size really matter?
Does it have to be as long as the others? How can I force it to be something it's not? If you don't like it grab another one that satisfies. Or just pretend it's OK for the sake of friendship. You could even decide to abstain. Although if you do give it a go, hopefully, it will stir up something inside you and you may actually enjoy it once you get into it. This paragraph was written by Susie Saunders and her Double Entendres, sister of Finbarr from Viz.

It was relaxing having my left arm and hand decorated with henna at the Dukhan Women's Association event. According to Amal, I have a cute hand. Going with the flow earlier that day I had painted my middle fingernail orange. My first thought the next day was how much better my henna hand would look with all my fingernails painted a brighter orange. The Dior polish, colour coded Riviera 537, was a kind gift from my 'tres gentil' French sister-in-law. Whilst shaking the bottle frantically, it suddenly flew out of my henna hand and smashed against the cream coloured bedroom wall, creating a wonderful luminous orange, Jackson Pollock effect. I immediately went into panic mode running around trying to locate the baby wipes, useful in such emergencies. Upon finding them, I smudged and smeared the splatters even more artistically onto the wall. Declaring disaster at the top of my voice I got absolutely no response at all from the kids. Good job Romeo was at another Saturday morning art class, he does not cope well with liquid leakages of any kind (read an old post entitled Up and Downs from 2012 for evidence of this). I wonder what he will return home with this time, a dozen delicately made, hand painted red ceramic roses?
The pan scourer and Jif Summer Fresh Actifizz combination worked as well as it could, even removing some of the cream canvas wall paint beneath it. This all took place before my first cup of tea. Thankfully the overwhelming nail polish fumes provided a great stimulant, fusing wonderfully with the ever lingering presence of Olbas Oil and freshly applied pungent henna. I breathed in deeply ready to face the day ahead.

'' (Ahhh) Higher baby, 
  (Ahhh) Get higher, baby!
  (Ahhh) Get higher, baby!
 And don't ever come down! (Freebase!)''


Listening to Thirst for Romance (2007) a debut album by Bolton band, Cherry Ghost.
Singing along to People Help The People and Mathematics, two of my favourite tracks from the above album.
Reading, The Brightest Star in the Sky by Marian Keyes.
Am I too old for break dancing now?


Lyrics are from White Lines (Don't, Don't Do It, 1983) by Grandmaster Flash and Melle Mel