I remember everything

Page 45

I am now another year older and hopefully a bit wiser. My colleagues surprised me at 9 am with a birthday cake bearing a few burning candles. Some of my gifts included: an electric toothbrush (Romeo), hand cream (Mini-Me), a notepad and a heartfelt, hand written letter (Dirtbag). Obviously my friends spoilt me too with some lovely thoughtful gifts.
Laugh along with me and pages 44-45 (how perfectly coincidental of my age change and name) from The Ladybird Book of The Mid-Life Crisis:

Suzy is at the hairdresser's.

She wants to look good because tonight she is going to a gabba all-nighter under a railway arch with her estranged daughter.

''Dye it blue, please,'' says Suzy.

Suzy is wondering which bra will best show off her new tattoo.

Shopping in Leeds and afternoon tea out with a special friend of mine was a great treat. It was a multi-sensory overload of sights, lights, sounds and sparkles in the freezing fog. At one point I actually thought I was in London being the country bumpkin that I am. Meanwhile, Romeo was out on the golf course seemingly in another country, as he was above the low cloud in beautiful winter sunshine. Heaven knows where the kids were?

We missed our connecting train back to Shepley by 3 minutes leaving us with a whole hour to kill in Huddersfield. So we decided to have a walk round our town which was quite a shock to the system after the safe hustle and bustle of the city. It was only 6.15 pm and the Christmas lights were on but I felt a bit unnerved passing by groups of hooded youths and the ambulance was already parked up outside Wetherspoons. We managed a quick circular walk, passing the beautiful tree outside the station with the statue of Harold Wilson standing stoically still behind, then entered the Head of Steam for a drink. I was certain we witnessed some dodgy street transaction between a man and a young woman and it's times like these that I wish I was not so observant.

Leeds

The Cure provided a perfect remedy at Manchester Arena, especially as I was going out on a work night which made it even more exciting. I parked in a car park down a really disgusting litter filled side street, which was a brisk ten minute walk from the venue. As my a-ha mad friend and I weaved our way around the rubbish I found myself saying, 'You wouldn't get this in Qatar.' Well definitely not on the streets but upon the shores of the coastline were zillions of discarded plastic bottles, bags, nappies and sandals.
I was slightly unhappy to miss the early evening support act (this is a cryptic clue as to who they were??) but both being working girls and mothers we couldn't get there any sooner. The stage lighting was fab and the first song I heartily sang along to was The Walk followed swiftly by In Between Days and Lovesong, which is my favourite, before wandering off into A Forest. It was a mixed crowd and appeared full to capacity and I saw at least two people being dragged over the barrier from the mosh pit. My eyesight is still good even from up in the rafters, although I am trying to deny the possibility that I may need some reading glasses soon. Robert and the band looked quite sprightly and he had obviously spent ages doing his hair. We did discuss whether it could actually be a wig or not nowadays, given his age.
A giddy, middle aged dancing woman behind us suddenly stumbled, falling on top of me and my friend from this extreme height. With gravity on her side she grabbed onto the large silver hoop earring swinging in my left ear lobe, to steady her downfall. OUCH!!

Throughout the great two and a half hour gig there was a constant stream of people particularly on our row and the one in front that kept moving up and down and along. It was so annoying. Can't anyone sit still anymore? I danced as much as I could from the waist upwards, reminding myself how lucky I am to have full body function unlike many of the lovely students at school who are fastened safely in their wheelchairs. Dropping my friend off up our street just before midnight, I didn't need a Lullaby to send me to sleep. The third encore set was still playing in my head: Friday I'm In Love, Boys Don't Cry, Close To Me and Why Can't I Be You.

Exactly a week later I find myself in the village church hall listening to the Shepley Singers, enjoying their harmonies reverberating in this place where I went to playgroup as a child, then Brownies and Guides. I even had my 'Surprise' 40th party here just before we left for the desert. How ecstatic was I to win two adult tickets for the Spring Festival next year in the raffle. Brilliant!

I am without doubt in full Christmas mode having enjoyed carol services and Nativity performances at both school and church. I smiled constantly as I pushed my wise man proudly onto the stage in his wheelchair while trying to balance the crown on his head. His parents were waving to him from the audience and by some small miracle I managed not to cry.
Everywhere I look there are decorated trees and twinkling lights which brighten up the grey skies.
'It's so dull Mum, I hate it here. I want to go back. I miss my friends,' says Mini-Me between sobs and anger outbursts.

Walking in a Winter Wonderland

Facing a few friends who are sadly suffering some bereavement just now, I am once again reminded of how fragile we all are. Trusting these words from Kahlil Gibran can comfort us:

'Your joy is your sorrow unmasked
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises
was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper the sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.'

Obviously I have survived my works Christmas do or I wouldn't be typing this right now. If I can't see you or be with you in what's left of this year, know that I am thinking of you.
Hope to see you in 2017.

Wishing you all a very Merry Christmas and a Happy & Healthy New Year! (I can just about say this in Makaton now too).

With Love xx

Reading: A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens
Singing: Christmas carols and songs
Listening & dancing to:www.youtube.com/watch?v=gkCYh1x44G8
Watched: Jason Bourne (2016), Scrooged (1988), Rise of The Guardians (2012) and Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016) in 3D

Winter is coming.........

I can, wholeheartedly state that I have not felt as cold as I do now in five whole years. Brrrrrrrrrrrrrr! Halloween was bone-chilling enough with a constant stream of trick or treaters knocking on the door between 5 and 7pm. Being left home alone I decided to put on my best Russian witch accent and have some fun. You could say I was over acting but it was so funny seeing the little ghouls, vampires, witches and wizards trying to work out if I was foreign or not. At least a couple of brave skeletons had the guts to say, 'Bye crazy lady,' after receiving their sweets which made me cackle even louder. Mini-Me had fun terrorising another part of the neighbourhood while Dirtbag was at the orthodontist having her braces removed. She returned grinning like a teenager possessed, with glow in the dark pearly whites. Needless to say, she looks even more beautiful than she already did before.

The village bonfire was a blazing success on such a freezing cold night. I stood as close to the fire as the cordon allowed with my friend, shivering in many layers of clothing, our faces glowing from the heat. Choosing to drink hot chocolate over alcohol to warm me on the inside this time while enjoying the firework display above us. Seeing my old pal there reminded me of the time we decided to have a camp fire together behind the cricket club tea hut built of wood. We were either in Brownies or Guides back then and obviously wanted to put our new skills to the test. My friend stayed at base camp while I ran across the cow field, climbed over the wall and into my back garden to steal some matches from our kitchen.

'What are you up to Suzanne?'
'Nothing Mum, I'm just having fun at the cricket field with Jane.'
'Be careful!'

We were enjoying the first plumes of smoke signalling upwards, oblivious to any danger and happy to be having this adventure together. The next thing we knew was the groundsman at the time, a lovely chap no longer with us, sprinting across the field towards us, waving his arms and looking really, really angry.

'What the bloody hell do you two think you're doing?'
'We're having a camp fire, Cedric.'
'No, you're bloody well not! You're going to burn the bloody tea hut down.'
Our tears probably quenched the pubescent flames.

The same old ramshackle tea hut remains to this day but the new giant club house is progressing as well as available funds will allow.

I See Fire

I walked gleefully down the road to catch the train as the first snow began to fall, catching the flakes in the purple palms of my gloved hands. At once I became Lucy entering the wonderful world of Narnia for the first time. Not having seen or felt snow for five years was so exciting for all of us. Romeo had galloped out into town earlier in the week to buy more bedding; we now sleep under two duvets to combat the freezing cold. I am eating and sleeping well, still cycling and walking, working up a cold sweat to fight the stubborn flabby bits. Happy to report that my hard work has been rewarded with my temporary contract becoming a permanent one. Brilliant!

My survival skills are also up to date, having recently watched The Revenant which I absolutely loved. I'm glad to state that there are not any bears in my woods. My closest encounter with nature recently was when a fox dashed out in front of me on my bike ride home. And I do imagine when snuggled up in my pyjamas beneath the double duvets, that it is as cosy as being inside the sleeping bag of a dead horse.

'You breathe. Keep breathing.'
'On est tous sauvages.'

I am so happy to be reconnecting with my favourite friends here in the UK. The time we spend together is never is enough. You know how much I love you, though, don't you? On a recent night out in Holmfirth, my friend and I laughed when we realised we could have gone to see Chas and Dave perform in the Picturedrome. We did see them leave backstage by coincidence, both still sporting their beards and flat caps. It's worth checking out what bands are performing at this venue as alongside the many tribute acts there are some interesting surprises such as: Reef, The Wedding Present, Roy Wood, Sophie Ellis Bextor and Howard Jones.

The service for Remembrance Sunday was well attended. I cried as The Last Post was played by a young lad and I thought of my great grandfathers, my grandfathers and my friend, Arthur.

'We remember with thanksgiving and sorrow those whose lives, in world wars and conflicts past and present, have been given and taken away.'

With Love xx

Reading: Lying Awake by Mark Salzman
Listening to: Suzanne by Leonard Cohen, originally a poem then his debut single in 1967 and In Your Eyes by BadBadNotGood ft Charlotte Day Wilson (2016)
Singing & dancing to:The Cure in preparation for their upcoming gig in Manchester
Watched: Mirror Mirror (2012), The Revenant (2015) and The Shelley College production of Billy Elliot The Musical (2016) which was brilliant.

Hair, there and everywhere

Out of the woods

The harvest festival was held in the village pub and followed by an auction which was all very amusing and lovely. Autumn is my favourite season and it's certainly in full colourful flow just now. Cycling home from work I get to see a beautiful rainbow over Castle Hill right in front of me, which makes me smile so much as it is the embroidered logo on our school T.shirts and jumpers. Full of hope and happiness I pedal on. The half term holiday has been a welcome break from the school/work routine and a chance to catch up with friends, who I have to remind myself I shouldn't miss anymore as they are nearby, but as we are all so busy working we don't have much spare time. Anyway, I have realised that wherever I am there will always be someone somewhere that I miss.

''That's just the way it is 
Some things will never change.''

We have had one of Dirtbag's desert found friends staying with us all week which has been lovely. Hearing them both giggling and chuckling together around the house makes me consider keeping her here with us forever. I was fearing the worst given that we have gone from having three bathrooms (in the desert) to one. This is definitely downsizing in a bad way. Allowing myself to sink into oblivion in a full, hot bubble bath, after two minutes I will always encounter the following scenario. I've not named us here but I think I'm obvious and the other lines can be either, Romeo, Dirtbag or Mini-Me, you choose.

'I need the bathroom.'
'Oh no, I've just got into the bath.'
'I need the toilet.'
'OK, can you wait a few minutes?'
'I need a poo!'
'Right, I'm getting out now.'

Hauling my work-weary bones out of the depths is somewhat akin to the raising of the Titanic. Then I stand towel wrapped and goose bumped on the landing waiting to re-submerge if I can cope with the air pollution. Considering that we have a few buckets lying around, I could always place one in the cellar for emergency use again, like we did when installing the new bathroom a few years ago.

What crazy person would pay a small fortune for her hair doing and then follow it up by shoving a cycle helmet over her super styled, carefully coiffured locks and go for a two and a half hour bike ride? At least I walked out of the hairdressers feeling like one of those shampoo advert women for a little while. It was such a beautiful afternoon I had to be up on the hills. Although it was 12 degrees I felt freezing as the wind is very chilly over the Pennines. It can't have been too bad though because I did stop to have an emergency cherry ice-cream before returning home. The boys were playing golf and are as keen as ever, the girls were being swots doing homework and revising.

My Mirkwood

Our girls shopping trip resulted in a spontaneous Halloween freak show in which I play the main part. My once demure brows now tinted and tweezed resemble some semi-permanent chic slugs snoozing above my eyes. What is wrong with me? For five wholesome years my eyebrows have been scorched by the harsh desert sun and now I allow myself this ridiculous act of vanity. Why do this when I can't even hide the results behind my sunglasses? If I wasn't constantly blowing my nose free of varying shades of snot I would also consider a tiny nose piercing. Again why? It seems to be a force beyond my control and I'm obviously a bit scared of growing old. Which reminds me to book the date for a November party because parties are fun. Maybe I will wear my new top with the colourful unicorn on it and the words Your sparkle has not gone unnoticed, printed underneath in silver?
It reminds me of Mabel, a character from the animated series Gravity Falls which I love watching with Mini-Me. It's different, quirky and funny.

The Village Bonfire

Newsflashes

Dirtbag ran on the track again at a local club.
Romeo is now seeing the chiropractor for his groin strain.
Mini-Me and Midlife Crisis went on a sponsored walk for Haiti calling at three local churches.
Still looking for more agents/publishers.
Don't give up!

''Every man's work, whether it be literature or music or pictures or architecture or anything else, is always a portrait of himself.''
Samuel Butler (1835-1902) British writer and composer.

With Love xx

Lyrics from The Way It Is by Bruce Hornsby and the Range (1986).

Reading: The Tea Planter's Wife by Dinah Jefferies
Listening and singing to: Love & Hate by Michael Kiwanuka (2016) and Love To The People by Sue Barker (1976)
Dancing to: Around the World by Kings of Leon (2016) and (Feeling Like A) Demon Again by Primal Scream (2016)
Watched: The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug (2013), Tomorrowland (2015) and Pulp Fiction (1994)
Going to see The Girl on the Train (2016) with some girlfriends at www.penistoneparamount.co.uk

How will you go?

I'm still enjoying cycling in the early autumn days and afternoons. Last week I grabbed five juicy blackberries from a bush to sustain me on my way home. I smile hearing the train pulling into the station as I am cycling/walking up the Eiger equivalent through the woods half a mile from home. The flat train journey only takes 11 minutes compared to my 45 minutes of uphill and down dale pedalling.

Harvest

Romeo was invited on a golf tour in Scarborough but the only room available in the 'hotel' was a family one, so guess who joined him? Sorting out the sleeping arrangements Dirtbag declared,
'This isn't a hotel, it's someone's house.' Yikes, luxury desert dwelling has spoilt her.
We had to pretend we weren't really there so as not to cramp the lads weekend away. I feigned surprise to see them all tucking into their full English platefuls at breakfast. Meanwhile, Mini-Me overheard a table full of older bikers behind them and remarked, 'Mum, I think they are French.'
Brilliant! Another excuse to speak this foreign language that I love. All I needed to do was to attract some attention. What mature, French, leather clad monsieur would want to parler avec moi? The one with the twinkly gleam in his eyes passed by and we made contact. Obviously, I was using this opportunity to encourage Mini-Me to develop the art of conversation and amuse myself at the same time, while mute Romeo and Dirtbag stuffed themselves with the full monty. Les hommes were on a biking tour and were here for the Steve Henshaw International Gold Cup Road Races, which were also celebrating 70 years of Oliver's Mount. The non-stop zip zip zipping of motorcycle tyres on tarmac could be heard all weekend across this seaside resort. Or was it the sound of gear changes and engines? Being a pedal pusher I have absolutely no idea whatsoever.

Despite the temptation to experience this high octane sport I already had a date with the kids and some other lovely Dukhan friends who have recently returned, like us, to the homeland. It was so great to see each other again; sharing transition news over a meal, laughing on the top deck of the open topped bus and frittering a few pence away in the amusement arcades.
The following day, as Romeo was whacking his balls about on another course, I treated Mini-Me and Dirtbag to a dive at the Sealife sanctuary. This is the nearest I will get to underwater diving anyway; peering through the tanks eyeballing the beautiful fish, rays, penguins, sharks and sea turtles. Dirtbag was so relaxed and calm, loving the eeriness of the alien-like jellyfish swirling around in different tanks of coloured light. It was quite an expensive treat because I hadn't any vouchers but worth it as it is also a hospital for locally rescued seals.

Ellie's jellies

I have enjoyed a couple of great nights out lately, one being the Shepley Cricket Club Ball where everyone was dressed up and looking gorgeous in their finery; at least the women were. My past often comes back to haunt me here at home which can be so amusing yet sometimes embarrassing as I discovered in the boiling hot toilets at the ball. I was with two glamorous older women at the sinks who knew each other somehow and both knew me. It went something like this:

Woman 1 to Woman 2: So how do you know Suzanne then?

Woman 2: I could have been her mum-in-law.

Susie laughing hysterically but also fearing the next statement directed towards her.

Woman 2: You broke up with him and he failed his A levels because of you.

Susie mortified and clutching at straws here but bravely being honest:
 Aggggh, did he? Oh, I'm so sorry, but I didn't truly love him.

Woman 2 hugging me: It's OK love, you were both so young.

''Escape is on your mind again, escape to a far away land.''

I hurriedly retreat back to the safety of the dancefloor laughing my head off. Yet upon reflection, I feel slightly guilty about the consequences for my ex. Gulp! Is it any wonder that I am a regular church goer? How many other male lives have I ruined? Although I have had my fair share of heartbreak, losses and longings too. All of us wildlings have this in common, don't we?

A staff night out at Playworld sounded like great fun, especially when it turned out to be a retro roller disco. Woohoo! Suddenly I was Dirtbag's age again, whizzing round and round singing to all the 80's, 90's and 00's tunes. Still sporting some streaks of lime green in my hair (from our Macmillan cancer coffee morning at school) and wearing my lucky top, I can happily report that I only fell over once without sustaining any injury.
The most recent event to record is my attempt at modelling seven different outfits for a fundraising fashion show which I absolutely loved. Not knowing many people in the audience helped but it was great to see mum and Dirtbag clapping and smiling at me strutting my stuff down the school hall catwalk. Afterwards, as I said goodnight to Dirtbag through her private, beware of the teenager bedchamber door she replied, 'Night mum and well done.' I smiled throughout my sleep that night.

''When he reached her, she pulled him gently inside the flat and closed the door. He leaned her against the wall. He bunched her bright curls in his hand. Now he wanted to tell her everything that he was feeling, but he felt the words float away. He put his mouth on hers. Her breath was sweet as caramel.''

From The Road Home by Rose Tremain.

With Love xx

Mini-Me and me by the sea

Reading: First Love a poem by Derek Mahon
Singing: How Will You Go, by Crowded House from their album Woodface (1991) and Light Up My Room, by Barenaked Ladies from their album Stunt (1998) with the staff choir (currently a trio).
Dancing to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7CiVF7LjKU8
Watching: Game of Thrones Season 6, at last. Brilliant.

I will survive

Our Shepley Beer Festival was brilliant. I found myself dancing with my brother under the marquee on the grass in my wellies on Saturday night. Then dancing with mum, dad, Dirtbag and some friends on Sunday night to Thunderbridge. They are a local band that Romeo used to frequently front and he found himself back in the spotlight for this occasion. Unfortunately, he was feeling ill and almost lost his voice. I felt sorry for him as he was really looking forward to it. On the plus side, the audience thought the band were great and he has never sounded more like Rod Stewart when singing Maggie May.

I am proud to report that I have survived two full weeks at work, cycling home three times both weeks with the weather still being kind to me. I have been chucked in at the deep end as there is so much to learn, although the hydrotherapy pool is not over my head. The students are amazing and the staff are so committed, kind and encouraging; I feel very privileged to work in this school. It's strange being the new girl again as no one knows me at all and I want to do a good job while remaining true to myself if you know what I mean. Whatever situation I find myself in I can only be me, as you can only be you.

Cycling up one of the lesser hills I have to slow down, even more, to allow the colossal combine harvester to turn right into the field on my left. Chuckling away to myself I continue, only to then see the vision of a lycra clad cycling Romeo charging uphill to meet me. Obviously, he doesn't trust me out here in my wood, field and countryside paradise. After all, there are many alluring and intriguing routes I could deviate along, but I don't, despite the temptation.

Emley Moor TV mast in the distance

Dirtbag and Mini-Me are slowly settling into their new routines. They have both told us about some 'naughty children' in their classes but have also been enthusiastic about their lessons and teachers. Dirtbag played in her first netball match against another school and they won 25-5, which she loved. She was proudly playing the centre position. Meanwhile, Mini-Me has signed on for a local junior football team, playing the position of goalkeeper. They had their first friendly game last week with a 3-3 draw. They are both missing their desert friends very much.

We have been taking Dirtbag to a chiropractor who is working wonders on her hip and knee pain. She has had her pelvis and spine realigned and some deep muscle massage on other problem areas. The song Miracle Aligner by The Last Shadow Puppets is playing in my head. It is great to see her body responding so well to this treatment. She should be up and running again by Christmas.

Reunited with my book club here, meeting on the same night as my Dukhan one, felt slightly surreal. Especially as it was held in the home where five years ago I told the group our exciting news. One friend reminded me that they all thought I was going to announce another pregnancy, so it was an even bigger surprise when I told them we were off to the Middle East. Everyone is as lovely as ever and toasted my return with some prosecco, which made my eyes sparkle and twinkle through the exhaustion at the end of my first week at work.

cycling home

Romeo seems more like a lost, wandering nomad here, than in the desert. It's a big change for him not to be going to school every day. He has kindly made tea every night for the family so far, which is much appreciated, by me anyway. The four-hour road trip to Stoke for some clay was a positive step and a day of supply teaching at the local high school rekindled some fire in his being. We all need to feel as though we have a purpose, don't we? It is in the quiet wilderness times of our lives that we feel the most challenged but then we often emerge stronger like the phoenix arising from the ashes.

I miss the little geckos darting to and fro and now have to capture and remove huge house spiders and Daddy longlegs. Last Tuesday night we had a spectacular storm which raged and flashed all around for a good hour or so, making me squeal and jump in delight, pinballing me from the loft windows to the kitchen doorstep. Brilliant! And how lovely that we were here to celebrate my newest nephew's first birthday; with a barbeque to devour and a dummy pinata to demolish.

''The window glows. The slow sandy light of predawn permeates the room. Everything is transient and aching; everything tentative. To be here, in this room, high in this house, out of the cellar, with her: it is like medicine.''

From All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr

I will continue to keep wondering and living in the present and so must you.

With Love xx

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8r31DFrFs5A

Reading: The Road Home by Rose Tremain
Listening and singing to: No one Will Ever Replace Us by The Courteeners, What Part Of Me by Low, I wonder by Rodriguez and The Present Tense by Radiohead
Watched: Little Fockers (2010) with Mini-Me! Rent: The musical by Woodhouse Musical Theatre Company at the Picturedrome in Holmfirth

www.info@picturedrome.net

Close Encounters with Mankind

I had been eyeing it up from the kitchen window and charting its daily progress; change in size and colour. Was it ready yet? Today I squeeze it gently between my thumb and forefinger, it's perfect. I wait until tea time to pluck it from the tree, then offer to share it but no one else wants to eat this lovely, unforbidden fruit with me. So I savour the sweetness all to myself and happily so. I didn't really want to share it anyway.
More plums are swelling and ripening and I will joyfully gather them when the time is right.

Mum and Dad celebrated their 70th birthdays together and had long ago invited some family and friends to join them for a meal at a local posh place. Another excuse for me to wear my Bond girl outfit. It was lovely to see my aunts, uncles, cousins, gorgeous god-daughter, energetic nieces, and nephews altogether on such a happy occasion. After the meal, a local lad entertained us with his super singing, inviting Romeo to blast out a couple of songs. Even Dirtbag side stepped on the springy dance floor with us, looking beautiful in her new frock and my borrowed shoes. There was something so comforting about being in a room full of people of who the majority have known me since infancy and still continue to nurture and love me. My small gift was being the designated driver so I could make sure everyone got home in one piece. Sensible Susie.

Party Parents

We enjoyed an action packed week at Center Parcs in Sherwood Forest with our French famille. Mini-Me was displaying some challenging behaviour at times which was quite distressing. Do boys experience a raging hormonal surge at age ten? The planned activity for August 9th was Laser Combat. What a brilliant way to celebrate our wedding anniversary, we could pretend to kill each other for fun. Alas, we were on the same team. My gun name was Sheik and I smeared some war paint across my face to get into the spirit of things. It was really good fun but being a pacifist I felt really uncomfortable firing head shots only. Another day our bicycles took us further afield and into Sherwood Forest itself. We had to disembark and continue on foot to see the major oak tree propped up proudly in his old age (over 1,000 years). I love the story of Robin Hood and fancy myself as Maid Marian. Hugging the sculpture of Robin in the village of Edwinstowe, I cut my arm, not on Robin's arrow but his severed bow. It looked worse than it actually was, just a scratch really. Does Monty Python spring to mind here?

In front of the Major Oak Tree

I have been abandoning ship and going on some local organised walks on alternate Saturdays. They are planned in conjunction with the trains, meeting at various stations where the walks begin. They usually finish ten miles or so later at another station ensuring we can all return to our home villages/towns. Last week's walk was the perfect opportunity to test drive my new walking boots; they passed. The failure came with the train line at the end of our walk being under maintenance that day and we had to use a replacement bus service to get to the next working station. Unfortunately, our bus was a few minutes late and the train left just as the bus arrived, so then we had to wait for another bus to take us home as the next train was strangely cancelled. It was all very amusing to me but some other passengers travelling from Sheffield were not so happy. We even had to direct the bus driver as he was on standby and not from the local area. What an adventure! I selfishly enjoyed my two pieces of emergency chocolate on the first hot and sweaty bus journey.

In preparation for my new job, I decide to cycle to the still shut school and back home again. Having whizzed down the first hill I get off to avoid the long queue of vehicles at the four-way never changing traffic lights. I have a pleasant little chat with two older ladies pushing a small boy in a pram  back up the hill and smile. When I leave them and go round the corner a large dishevelled wild man with broken teeth starts shouting at me and pointing his finger towards the road. I am completely unprepared for this bizarre meeting and continue to smile while trying to make sense of his anger. He is really cross and talking complete nonsense and all I can do is stand there and say 'It's OK, I'm not doing anything wrong, I'm going back onto the road now.' I almost burst into tears because I hate confrontation of any kind and I hate being shouted at. Cycling on I confess that I do cry a little bit but then quickly re-focus on the road so I don't hit any potholes. I keep thinking positive thoughts for the wild man and feel sad to think I upset him even more than he already seemed to be. He reminded me of the subway ghost from the film Ghost (1990) who shouts ''Get off my train!'' but was even scarier.

My return route was much nicer, going up and down really steep hills but with great views. I travel alongside Victoria Tower, the castle on the hill of my bedtime horizon. Almost home and I am just descending into the woods pressing hard on the brakes. Suddenly I have to do a massive sideways skid as another male lunatic appears in front of me, sort of walk/jogging around the blind bend and there is a car passing me on my right. I honestly don't know how I didn't fly over the top of the handlebars. Undeterred by my strange encounters I aim to take my bike on the train to work and cycle home, two or three times a week. Wish me luck.

Victoria Tower, taken in 2010

We are really happy to be meeting up with lots of friends and neighbours we have not seen for over a year and although I am now thinking of my far-flung friends back in the Middle East, I am so glad I don't have to fly back there this time.
Happy to report that I have had over 10,000 page views to date. So thank you, my faithful, friendly followers.

'Your friend is your needs answered.
He is your field which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving.
And he is your board and your fireside.
For you come to him with your hunger, and you seek him for peace.'

by Kahlil Gibran.

With Love xx

Still reading and enjoying: All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr
Listening to: BBC Radio 6 Music and loving: Big Cat by Wild Beasts, Furnaces by Ed Harcourt and Wake Up To This by King Creosote
Singing & Dancing to: Thunderbridge at the Shepley Beer Festival this weekend
Watched: Finding Dory at the cinema with Mini-Me

The castle on the hill of my bedtime horizon

Writing Room with a new view

Was it all a dream? I think it could have been because we have only been home for one month but it feels like forever; this is such a good feeling. I am in my newly established writing room which was the former nursery for both Dirtbag and Mini-Me. The purple blooming buddleia is blowing in the evening breeze over our garden path and attracting a few butterflies. Our terraced row of three is collectively named Holly View but I cannot see any from here. My second-hand antique oak writing desk is an old friend I have yet to spend more time with but it was love at first sight, for me anyway. Behind me, above an old battered bookcase is the stained glass window which ignites when the sun catches it and makes me feel like I am the queen of my castle. Ascending into our loft bedroom I look out of the Velux every night at the changing skies with its clouds and vivid colours scudding by, seeing the real castle on the hill of my horizon.

We are swiftly gathering pieces of furniture and putting up some desert pictures and photos to remind us of our dream-like adventures. In the country kitchen, we have reinstated the disco ball above the table as we all know that the best parties end up in there. Let's get planning a house warming party soon because it's really chilly, especially up at the cricket club.
Talking of parties, we recently attended a Bond themed one in sunny Sunderland which was lovely. It was also a mini Dukhan reunion with some desert found friends and bridged the gap between continents which reminded me that it wasn't all just a wonderful dream.

The funniest thing I have heard so far this summer comes from the mouth of Mini-Me:
'Mum, please can you wash my jockstrap?'

My pink Swatch watch strap suddenly snapped but I don't need to worry about time as the church bells automatically chime every quarter, half past and on the hour. It's such a lovely sound to my ears and carries across the fields as I'm walking with swallows swooping and gliding. It encourages me in my uphill speed walk to the Sunday service, waving and saying 'Hi' to the other villagers passing by. I am trying to readjust to having four seasons in every day again but delighted to have seen three rainbows already to brighten my northern skies.

The cup of redbush tea was made and I was settling down for the evening when a spontaneous Dirtbag declared she was off into the woods to try and capture the stunning sunset with her camera. I went along just in case a big bad wolf decided to jump out from behind a tree and startle her. We were running down the road just as the 9.36 pm trains were arriving at their respective platforms.
'Hurry up or we're going to miss it!' she shouts at me, half a mile ahead of course. Brilliant! I have not seen her this animated for weeks now. To anyone else hearing her they would have assumed we were going for one of the trains. Where would we be going at this time of night, though? For a pint or two of pale ale in the Head of Steam at Huddersfield station or a couple of Mojitos in a trendy bar in Sheffield? Maybe in a few years time.
So we continue running down the hill, over the bridge, along the bumpy track, through the kissing gate, and into the field.
'We've missed it. It's your fault for being so slow,' she says matter of factly but still takes some good photos anyway.

My rooibos was just the right temperature to comfort me when we returned.

Ringing the bluebells

Underneath the Stars Festival was fabulous and all I could ever have dreamed of, especially being practically on my doorstep. My friend and I had such a special day together and the weather was delightful. We went into a mobile planetarium, browsed and shopped at the various stalls there, ate our picnic, had some Yummy Yorkshire ice cream and of course listened to some fantastic live folk music. Kate Rusby and her band were so brilliant, I was completely spellbound by their performance for an hour on the Planets Stage in the big blue tent. Trying to reclaim a little of the Arab within I asked the lovely henna artist if she could paint a bracelet of stars on my right wrist, which of course she did, for a fiver.

After much deliberation, I have decided not to create a brand new blog but just change the name of this one. Hope you like it and if you have some spare time please continue to read me and share in my local adventures.

With Love xx

Reading: All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr
Listening to: The Folk Show with Mark Radcliffe on BBC Radio 2,
Wednesday nights 7-8 pm
Singing: Green Fields and Ghost by Kate Rusby
Walking and cycling here, there and everywhere despite the hayfever attacks
Watched: Spy (2015), Zoolander 2 on the plane home laughing my head off and The BFG at the local Odeon Cinema, both released this year.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RrJZJtY6u7o

Qaexit!

                                           SOLD: One red fire engine                                                       

It is almost over and has lasted five years. So much has happened lately that I want to write about, so I don't forget any part of this adventure. When I am an old lady I will read my blog and chuckle to myself. Will technology be easier for old people to access in another forty years or so? Telepathy could be good fun.

It was so great to see Joshua receive the Sports Performer of The Year award for Key Stage 2. It was the last presentation of the evening, and all our heartbeats simultaneously increased when the head of P.E mentioned that the winner of this award had worked hard to control his inner aggression. Mini-Me looked so happy and proud holding his first ever trophy on the stage.

Despite it being the Holy Month of Ramadan many social gatherings have taken place, including a brilliant alternative version of the game show Blankety Blank. The host was excellent and should he ever decide to give up his day job, I see a bright future ahead of him as an events organiser or real life game show host. There were some cleverly crafted, alternative song lyrics, which were performed with real passion and emotion by some of the talented contestants. The house band strummed and plucked along together rhythmically throughout the night.

I enjoyed a lovely afternoon tea treat with five friends in the Four Seasons Hotel, which was very posh. For some reason I didn't feel out of place as I once may have done and enjoyed every minute. My last desert book club was great and I was presented with The Black Book of Arabia written by Sheika Hend Faisal Al Qassemi. Inscribed inside the front and back covers are kind messages from the group who have helped to keep me sane and encouraged me here. It is a very thoughtful gift and much appreciated. As was the afternoon tea, with the five flinging in extra cash to pay for me. How kind.

The annual Art Exhibition was a brilliant success despite being emotional due to our friend and colleague's noted absence. It was strange not to see him there, chatting to proud students and parents admiring the art. His presence was there in the paintings though. The plaque with his name on hangs upon a wall and his faithful service is remembered. So let us hope that his legacy will last and the Art Department continue to blossom and flourish through its future staff and students.

How excited and nervous was I finding myself flying home solo on Qatar Airways, for an interview for my dream job! The whole trip was a success from beginning to end as I saw my family, a couple of beloved friends and got the job. It's a maternity cover, full time educational teaching assistant post in Early Years. I hardly worried about Romeo and the kids, abandoning ship to fulfil my destiny.
Part of my interview preparation involved running through our empty home, up and down both flights of stairs, hugging and kissing the walls.

While I was finishing my timed written pieces, prior to the formal, four panel interview, MP Jo Cox was  tragically murdered in the same home county of West Yorkshire. A beautiful white rose crushed in her prime. I felt so terribly sad knowing that my new adventure was about to begin as her life was ending.

On the beach

We went to say farewell to our friends at Doha Athletics Club and then had a family trip to Souq Waqif, which was one of the first places we visited when we arrived in Qatar. We had parked in the underground car park and were just passing through the sliding doors when there was an incredibly loud explosive bang, sounding just like a bomb blast. Romeo jumped out of his skin, Mini- Me started crying while Dirtbag and I stood still in shock working out what to do. No one else around us seemed to be panicking so we carried on up the slope to the Souq. Then we saw the smoking cannon that had just been fired to mark Iftar that evening.

Fanar Islamic Centre

''The adventure was over soon, as always happened, they would be home, and all the wonder, the terror, and the excitement would be behind them. They were tired and content.''

From the opening chapter of The City and the Stars by Arthur C. Clarke

Ongoing dialogues

Dirtbag: You don't understand I won't see these friends again, EVER!

Midlife crisis: I do understand.

Mini-Me: Can we come back at Christmas?

Midlife crisis: NO!

Romeo: I'm just doing a quick nine holes, see you later.

Midlife crisis: Dear God please help me.

There are lots of 'last' events going on and I hate saying goodbye because I usually always cry. A few tears fell on the last Hash, but being drowned in the bucketing with all the other leavers disguised the emotions well. However, at my last Dukhan church service I could not stop crying and found it hard to sing my favourite hymns. My tears are full of gratitude for the love, support and strength I have received from many here.

For those who have always stayed steadfast and true friends throughout my life so far, you know I love you. For those found in the desert, thank you for opening my eyes even wider to the many wonders and blessings of friendship in all its dimensions. Know that you will always be welcome to visit us should you find yourself in England's green and pleasant land.

Even though the decision has been made to leave, I continue to trust that the things which matter most will remain: faith, hope and love.

With Love,
Susie xx

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E36_UiCiIxk

PS Watch out for my new blog, The Diary of a Northern Soul, (or something like that) coming to a screen near you soon.

Reading: www.castlehillschool.org.uk
Listening to: Written in Scars, album by Jack Savoretti (2015), Random Access Memories, album by Daft Punk (2013) and Glastonbury Song by The Waterboys (1993).
Singing: Destiny Calling by James and The Final Countdown by Europe.
Dancing: in the kitchen when I feel like it because we have sold the table and chairs.
Watched: The Social Network (2010), Spotlight (2015), The Lady in the Van (2015) and War of The Worlds, (2005).

Comings and Goings

Sand River

I like to think I know full well what I have got up my sleeve but I was unprepared for this encounter at the physiotherapy reception desk. My left arm started tingling and irritating me so much that I had no choice but to strip off in front of Dirtbag and some men. I began by flinging my scarf (revealing the cleavage) and ripping off my long sleeved cardigan (exposing the arms) in a totally unprovocative, slightly distressed way. There was the culprit; a big black ant feasting on my forearm. Three times he had bitten me with his ferocious fangs, red itchy lumps immediately swelling up before my very eyes. I flicked him as far away from my flesh as possible thanking my lucky stars he didn't find his way into my pants. At the same time I muttered 'naughty ant,' much to the amusement of the receptionist. This incident reminded me of the horrific discovery of a cockroach in the crotch of my swimming costume three years ago. The chilled out dude had looked comfortable in his high up hammock; snug as a bug in a rug. My costume was hanging on the hook on the back of the bathroom door and it totally freaked me out when I spied the creature in it.

The sound was disturbing and unsettling. I couldn't concentrate and tried to drown the noise with loud music all day long. It sounded so wrong but the siren remained silent so it must be OK? The well fire raged close to the compound wall not far from our villa. It was like having an aeroplane fire up its engines in your back yard and sit there all day blazing on and on and on. I had seen what it looked like from the top of the road, a giant crater full of pale yellow flames, the biggest controlled fire I have ever seen. It scared the kids too and they climbed up onto the roof to look at it. In our five years here this has never happened before. The new engineers we have met told us they were shutting the well down for safety measures as it was too close to the compound.

Another lost and found

The idea amused me and quickly grew into reality. The trouble was getting it to stay up. You'd think it would be easy really, just keep teasing and trusting that it would soon stand fully erect, just as I wanted it to. No, it was being awkward. I tried rubbing it gently with some soap, then smoothed some special gel on it and had a desperate attempt with some egg whites which got a bit messy. Finally, I found success with some gelatin. Phew! My perseverance paid off. I was trying to recreate the 'hair gel' scene from the film There's Something About Mary for the Hash Ball. Whatever did you think I was doing?

I put my hair do to the test by doing my 40-minute fat burning DVD and it survived; Susie shall go to The Ball. It was held at a secluded outdoor picnic site on the beach, for the first time. Most people had attempted to dress up as their Hash name which was all part of the fun. A slide show kept running all night long, projected onto a white sheet which rippled a little in the breeze. This made the photos come to life and so all the old friends were moving alongside us once again. I even saw my two sisters-in-law.

There was dancing of course, and despite an initial refusal, I did allow myself to be picked up in a fireman's lift and spun around a few dizzying times by a strong man. I did warn him that I am quite heavy and didn't want to put his back out and jeopardise his relationship with his lovely girlfriend. Having flung a few other lightweights around he seemed to want this heavyweight challenge. He was very confident so I threw caution to the wind, trusted him and risked it. It was brilliant, my Jennifer Grey and Patrick Swayze fantasy moment come true. There are very few men in this world who are capable of lifting me up; for the record I admire and thank them.

As I had substituted a bikini for my underwear, a midnight sea swim was imperative. Shivering with delight under the stars, I serenely swished the phosphorescence around with two madmen to keep me company. I am happy to report that my hair style did not droop at any point during the whole evening.

Ass and I'll Come Again

The brilliant ball was swiftly followed by a disaster date with the four of us at a hotel. Dirtbag and Mini-Me argued almost constantly. Romeo's most romantic gesture was enticing me into the bathroom for a game of cards. It was like being locked in the Big Brother house for 24 hours with your worst enemies and even though we all love one another really, it was really hard work. Which makes me remember why we don't do these things; it is not us. We prefer the open spaces, the muddy fields and woods, talking in pubs, sitting around fires with family and friends, laughing, joking and singing.

Trusting that the hailstones which were flung down at our recent Shepley Spring Festival will not batter me and my friend at Underneath The Stars Festival in July. Maybe The Cure will treat me and another friend to their same titled song in November when we go to see them?

With Love xx

www.youtube.com/watch?v=tORuEdknbWI

Reading: The City and the Stars by Arthur C.Clarke
Listening to: Pain by De La Soul ft Snoop Dogg and Wide Open by The Chemical Brothers ft Beck (brilliant video)
Singing and dancing to: Back To You by Bryan Adams
Watched: Doubt (2008), Ex Machina (2015), Anger Management (2003), Mulholland Drive (2001), There's Something About Mary (1998) and The Road (2009).

Hold On

Why does everything have to happen at once and time speed up when you have so much to do?

I have enjoyed a couple of posh events lately with my girlfriends here. Meeting for breakfast with some Doha Athletic Club mums was lovely as I haven't seen them for ages. The Fantastic Four gave me a framed photograph of all the young athletes, beloved daughter included, and their coaches. We enjoyed our food and precious time together. I'm planning to invite them to this side of the desert very soon.

Escaping into another world of complete self indulgence was brilliant. The Superior Six relaxed, ate a lot and stumbled upon a beach bar hosting a Reggae Night. This was hilarious as UB40 were playing that same night at the neighbouring hotel. Our reggae band were brilliant though and played loads of Bob Marley songs. So I had to lively up myself, dancing barefoot in the sand, in my dress with my friends. Perfect.

Here's one of the bizarre conversations I became dread-locked  in:

Me: (singing and dancing)

Man: (approaches from my left, trying to dance) You've got a lot of energy.

Me: (playing it cool) Yes I have.

Man: (seemingly undeterred or desperate) You're from England aren't you?

Me: Yes.

Man: (relentless) Whereabouts are you from?

Me: Yorkshire. (you can tell by my minimal responses that I wasn't flirting at all and I didn't turn towards him to dance because he couldn't, so what was the point?)

Man: You're from Huddersfield aren't you?

Me: (flabbergasted) Yes! How did you know that, are you psychic?

Man: Everyone dances like that in Huddersfield.

It was at this point that I felt the most insulted as I consider my dance moves very unique. I also know for a fact that he was wrong and I pride myself on the reality that once I start dancing I cannot stop but keep going for hours.
My advice to the Man: Go back to Birmingham mate and work on your chat up lines.

The online Introduction to Screenwriting course is really interesting. I'm learning so much and it's also challenging me write my own screenplay. We read articles, watch video clips, do set tasks and then enter discussions by posting our comments. I was a bit nervous about interacting with intellectual strangers and spouting forth my opinions. I feel safe rambling on to you lot because I know you really well, don't I?

 Anyway the discussions have been fine as most people keep to the point and remain professional. I get a few likes on my occasional comments, and have had one like from the Lead Educator (ha ha, I'm such a creep). I've enticed a couple of followers, who I also follow in return (both female). I'm so pleased I am doing this and if any of you are bored or in between jobs I recommend an online course to motivate you and give you something positive to focus on. Why not try something completely new to challenge yourself? Have a look at www.futurelearn.com to browse available courses, or #FLscreenwriting if you want to see what I'm having a go at. Now they should give me my certificate for FREE.

Not one, but four dream jobs have been advertised at the specialist school and college I want to work in back home. So this week I have been frantically filling forms in and trying to prove how perfect I am for these roles; it's been exhausting. The surprising part of my recent application was that I had to submit an A4 piece of writing on the importance of play. Brilliant! Play to your strengths Susie.

''Creative people are curious, flexible, persistent and independent with a tremendous spirit of adventure and a love of play.'' Henri Matisse (1869-1954)

Oui, c'est vrai, c'est moi, merci Henri!

Some bookshelves and desks have been sold and the fire engine sale is resting on a handshake. Gulp! I hope it's firm enough. Thinking about the possibility of a potential Skype interview I won't be able to give my hand this shaking opportunity unless I sign it, which would be very appropriate as the school uses Makaton as a means of communication.

waiting for new tyres 

The Bell Jar was brilliant but it made me sad knowing that Sylvia committed suicide shortly after her novel was published, she was only 30 years old.

I will do anything to save any of my friends or family from such a fate.

On a much more positive note I am trying to spend as much quality time with my friends here before we leave: singing, dancing, keeping fit, chatting, laughing, chilling by the pool, drinking tea and keeping cool. Trusting that those dear friends I am soon returning back to, will strongly embrace me and brighten my northern sky once again.

Reading: The Collector by John Fowles
Listening to: Daydreaming (2016) new release by Radiohead, Suzie (2005) by Boy Kill Boy, Northern Sky (1970) by Nick Drake and Lively Up Yourself (1974) by Bob Marley
Singing & dancing to: Hold On (2016) new release by Richard Ashcroft
Watched: Everything is Illuminated (2005) and Tideland (2005)

Remember to: hold on, hold on, hold on. I am.
Hold on tighter if you have to. Or be really brave, dare to let go and see what happens.

With Love xx

Fly Away

At the beach club

My parents are returning home to the spring frost and cold after enjoying their last Qatar holiday. They brought their spare kettle which I can keep and dispose of, or sell when we leave in two months time. Gulp! I hope there are no hidden exit hoops we have to jump through to escape, it's already more than challenging in many ways. Why, when driving past the local Police Station would I even dare think to myself,  'I have never been in there,' knowing my uncanny, prophetic nature at times? One anecdote for another time and place with a large, stiff drink in hand.

At a beach party they were warmly welcomed to join in, mum wanted to thank our desert friends for looking after us, but said she was too shy to stand up in the crowd. Saying thank you, like saying sorry, goodbye or I love you can be the hardest words ever to say, if of course, you truly mean them.
I'm a Yorkshire lass, so I say what I mean and I mean what I say. OK?

Dad, Me & Mum

I was enjoying my sea swim among a few fish and while contentedly breast-stroking alongside the safety rope, out of my depth, I kicked something soft and wobbly with my foot. It felt like a football does in the early stages of deflation. Shrieking a little, I swam inshore, stood on the sandy seabed and discovered that the unfortunate jellyfish may now have concussion. I have suffered this twice in my life which could explain a few things.

'Sorry Mr. Jelly,' I said sincerely.

No reply from Mr. Jelly. 'Oh goodness gracious!' Did I really expect one? While observing him for a while longer, a white plastic bag floated nearby, bearing some traffic light coloured words advertising the local shop. 'Oh calamity!' Its movements were similar to the milky-white alien I had just crashed into. Neither did me any harm.

Did you know that Roger Hargreaves was born in Cleckheaton, Huddersfield?

My writing/publishing challenge continues and everything I currently read tells me to keep writing, keep reading, find an agent, keep writing, accept rejection and persevere. I received a 'special announcement' via email, to apply for an online creative writing course, at a certain price, of course. My reaction was mixed. I felt, on the one hand, encouraged and yet on the other, more determined to write independently in my own style. And yet, I acknowledge that there is always room for improvement. I really do want to write and I want to write really well, to the best of my ability, and then better. Having discovered a free online Introduction to Screenwriting course which I thought would be fun and challenging, I signed up. Obviously, I will let you know how it goes.

There is a huge gulf between having the guts and courage to write your own way or let someone else mould you to write for the market. Then there is the reality of your guts and courage being criticised. A positive or negative reaction is surely better than none? Why else would Damien Hirst slice a cow and calf in half and display them as art? Victoria Wood, as indeed Prince, were creative, talented and unique performers who worked really hard to achieve what they did in their lifetime. No one said it would be easy, so I am awaiting some more rejection.
It is the waiting that is the hardest part.

Mother and Child (Divided) by Damien Hirst, (1993).

The little bird was struggling on bandy, broken legs. Eventually, it collapsed onto the floor beside me, spinning around on its back; bird breakdancing. Ants began to crawl all over it, no doubt irritating beyond ordinary tolerance levels. The comparison was obvious as I have been thinking of Dirtbag being like a tethered hawk or an eagle with a clipped wing. She has not trained for two months now due to constant hip and leg pain. We have seen a GP, physiotherapist and now await consultation with a specialist. Hopefully, it is just growing pains.

This fragile bird won't give up his battle easily. He is still thrashing around and it's painful to watch, so I carry on writing. Ten minutes later I notice he is dead; lying on his back with lifeless little legs in the air, neck lolling to one side, eyes open and beak shut. I gently shovel him onto the spade and place him right side up on the sandy soil in the border; he just looks asleep now.

I know why the caged bird sings and so I have to lovingly, delicately scoop my own wounded fledgling up and get her back on track.

Bee-eater birds

Reading: The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath and the poem And Still I Rise, by the brilliant Maya Angelou. Reference to the autobiography, I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings also by Maya Angelou.

Listening to: Bad Habits and Aviation by The Last Shadow Puppets from their latest album, Everything You've Come To Expect (2016). Two full albums: Brothers In Arms by Dire Straits (1985) and Solid Air by John Martyn (1973).

Singing & dancing to: Sign O' the Times by Prince (1987), Fly Away by Lenny Kravitz (1998), Runaway by Jamiroquai (2006), Roots by Show of Hands (2007) and Revelry by Kings of Leon (2008).

Watched: Human Remains, written by and starring Rob Brydon and Julia Davis (BBC 2000). It's a series of six episodes of black comedy which are absolutely brilliant. They made me feel normal.

Still swimming, walking, cycling and circuit training. How about you?

With Love xx
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NIqQOIRduIw
Don't Want To Know by John Martyn.

PS 'Somethin' ain't right....'  so I updated the actual link on the last post to get myself connected. Ironic.

Everything is connected

I'm bursting at the seams having not written for three weeks due to the school holidays and some more child minding. Here comes the mixed media monologue deluge.

The Easter holiday is always joyful for me wherever I am. After the service, a friend took me to visit the Non-Moslem Cemetery, which is the only one in the country. Then followed a swift fly by the old Dukhan airport. There's not much to comment on there apart from the fact that the buildings all look brand spanking new? The cemetery moved me though, housing many small graves for babies and children. We looked through the locked gate a while, then when walking around the wall we vowed to one another that we would both be laid to rest in our home turf, not the desert.

'If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life.
For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.'

From The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran, first published in 1923.

Romeo embarked on a mini golf tour north of Dubai in the UAE for three days, so I was left in complete control for a change. I decided to take the kids to the cinema one afternoon. The main problem was going to be choosing a film suitable for both a Mini-Me and a Dirtbag. You know I love a challenge.

Susie to Josh: (optimistically) How about Batman v Superman?

Josh: I hate Batman! I'd like to watch Kung Fu Panda 3.

Susie: Oh Josh, I'm not sure Ellie will like that one. How about The Divergent Series: Allegiant? It's a bit like Star Wars, (gulp, little white lie and rated PG-13).

Josh: OK, I'll try it but I might not like it. Zootropolis looks good.

Susie: Thanks love.
(shouting down the corridor) Ellie, we're off to the cinema to watch Allegiant!

Ellie: Really? Great! (smiles).

I bought the beggars the biggest buckets of popcorn on sale, sat between them to prevent any elbow nudging annoyance and to deflect any major public quibbles. When it started raining blood on the giant screen I sneaked a sideways glance at Mini-Me just to check his reaction. He stared straight ahead nonchalantly, continually stuffing the crunchy caramel-coated puffs of corn into his mouth.

After the film had finished and we were on the homeward bound journey he made his point bluntly and somewhat accusingly.
'Well, thanks for that, now I'll have nightmares for the rest of the week!'
Sometimes the harder I try the worse things seem to get for a least one of the kids. Or is it just the way it has to be? You just can't please everyone all the time, can you?

Bruce the almighty puppy came to stay for another week with us, the lucky dog. He was well behaved and enjoyed his walks in the wind and rain. I'm sure he winked at me one morning just after I'd pegged his freshly washed mini jumper on the washing line to dry.

We made it onto the all welcome, quirky guest list of a friendly desert couple celebrating their anniversary at a barasti. It was a full day of fun in the sun; we relaxed, swam, chatted and ate together. The groovy outdoor evening disco underneath the stars was brilliant. What more could a girl wish for? There was even a huge carpet laid out on the sand, cushioning our bare dancing feet. When White Wedding by Billy Idol blasted out, we all raucously belted out the refrain, 'It's a nice day to start again!'

Our Aquapark day trip was a great success especially as I found myself sat next to some lovely Yorkshire folk. We chatted merrily away in between swims, slides and food, like long lost relatives. This really was the perfect day out for us as a family of four, at our different life stages; everyone was happy all at the same time; a modern day miracle.

The weather has been really strange lately culminating in some spectacular storms. The thunder and lightning show of the most recent storm raged constantly overhead for hours. It was of course, brilliant! Romeo was nevertheless enticed onto his beloved golf course and has video footage to prove it but here's my Blair Witch Desert Storm Project:

Last week I had the privilege of looking after a lovely 16 and half month old boy. He made me smile so much. I reflected on how difficult it can be to communicate with and/or appease my own three, in comparison. Don't give up Susie. One day while the little fella was contentedly reading (he is a very clever toddler), I spied a pocket Italian phrasebook chilling out on his mum and dad's bookcase. Grabbing it gleefully off the shelf I got stuck in because it's never too late to learn a new language is it?
'Mamma è bello, papà è alto, io non parlo italiano, sì, ciao, grazie!'
I thoroughly enjoyed twisting my tongue around the words pretending to be an authentic signora Susie. Effective communication is the key to my life. I really want to be understood and understand others through words spoken, written or sung. It makes me so very happy when I truly connect with people of all ages, genders, nationalities, abilities, all faiths or indeed none.

Wherever you are and whatever current situation you find yourself in be encouraged, as I am, by the following phrase from The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood.

'Nolite te bastardes carborundorum.'

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qm8ClRnVxtE

With Love xx

Reading: Mile 81 a short story by Stephen King.
Listening to: CD 2 from the Strange and Beautiful compilation (2003), Legend album by Bob Marley and the Wailers (1984).
Singing and dancing to: Connected album by Stereo MC's (1992).
Watched: The Passion of the Christ (2004), Changeling (2008), Honeymoon (2014), The Name of the Rose (1986) Control, (The Tragic Tale Of The Singer Of Joy Division, 2007) and 24 Hour Party People (2002).