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