Don't Give Up!

The rejection came: swiftly, politely, inevitably; I did not cry. This is the beginning, I thought to myself; feeling proud that I had flung it out there and started the process. I read the e-mail immediately after returning from my second doomed trip to the Ministry of Interior and Immigration offices; also rejecting the visiting visas for our adopted Thai nephews. After compiling numerous documents, filling in forms, poorly navigating a kind driving friend, being fast-tracked to see 'The Captain,' then the Manager upstairs, smiling my hope and joy; sadly it was all to no avail.
Je suis désolé. It rained all afternoon.
I kept calm and carried on cooking a lentil bolognese and baked a pineapple-in-the-middle cake. Somethings I can still control.

My mantra: Don't give up!

St. Patrick didn't bring me any luck either, instead the rather disappointing news that the mangrove kayak expedition I was looking forward to going on with some cool, young guns, was cancelled due to the wind. Was that my lentil bolognese or the force of nature?

Fortunately, my stall at the school Spring Fair was a success. I was sandwiched between some Indian flavours on my left and the Philippine cuisine on my right; filling up this space with bric-a-brac. The customers swarmed like flies round camel manure, or if you prefer, the sweeter analogy of bees around a honey pot. I was so glad of some help from a kind, young mum whose daughter was sleeping in her pushchair. My prices were very reasonable so I got rid of most of my merchandise while supporting the school charity, Qatar Red Crescent, at the same time.

Cleaning the house is my least favourite job and in the bathroom, I somehow slice my right thumb open on the sharp plastic top of the Harpic bottle. Bright red blood spills out; at least it is a clean cut. Ouch, for both the pain and the pun. We are in constant short supply of plasters due to Dirtbag's blisters and leg shaving cuts. Her latest trauma involved ripping the skin off her shin with what presumably must have been a rusty machete and surely not the small BIC razor. This wound is approximately six inches long and I worried that it was going to get infected. She had to wrap a bandage around the box of plasters stuck on her leg and wear some black tights to disguise the horror, in order to attend school.

Where can I find a maggot to shove in my open flesh wound thumb cut?

While President Obama and his family were arriving in Cuba for their historic visit I was waiting in line at the US Embassy in Doha, successfully collecting a visa for a friend. I have felt a little bit troubled lately, as though something was severely wrong somewhere. So I have been fervently praying for the safety of all my friends and family, here, there and everywhere.

The disaster strikes with the recent bombings in Turkey and Brussels and I feel the great weight of collective sadness and anger. I consider fleeing to a remote, safe island. Where is safe? Or I wonder if I should become a revolutionary. Both are extreme reactions and I would need all my closest friends beside me to cope with either option. Putting the panic aside, I resolve instead to continue trying to make my immediate surroundings a kinder, brighter, happier space. Don't give up!

With Love xx

/www.youtube.com/watch?v=YD9EcRZpVFY

Listening to: Waiting For The Great Leap Forward by Billy Bragg (1988) and The Dalesman's Litany by Christy Moore (1976).

Singing: Safe From Harm and Protection by Massive Attack from their Collected album (2006).
Black and White Town by Doves (2005).

Dancing to: Men's Needs by The Cribs (2007), they are from Wakefield, W. Yorks and Digital Love by Daft Punk (2001).

Reading: Psalm 121 (NIV)

Unfinished Sympathy vs Bitter Sweet Symphony

Sunset

I got a bit carried away boldly declaring that Joanne Harris is from Huddersfield too. She does live there now but was born in Barnsley, South Yorkshire. Deciding to rectify this I re-edited my post stating she is from Yorkshire. It's 'Good Enough' for me. Which led me to sing that song by Dodgy and some other great tunes from their Free Peace Sweet album of 1996.

We have had to face some sadness with the death of a desert friend and colleague. There is great comfort in knowing that he is no longer suffering physically and that he was at home in the UK, with those he loved, when he died. In his honour, I made tea for the two lovely, remaining art teachers in the department (Romeo is one of them). We ate some smoked haddock which he had fancied and bought from M&S after a hospital appointment I had accompanied him on, together with the gentle and long-standing art technician, in January. He didn't get to share this last supper with us. We gave thanks for his life and tucked into tea, enjoying a Victoria sponge cake for dessert, like the one I baked for his farewell from here afternoon tea party. I was in awe of the depth of love and care his good friends here gave to him, making their homes and lives available whenever he needed them.

Death always makes us consider our own mortality and should do, as time passes quickly. So I wholeheartedly agree with the following words by Andy Dufresne, spoken to his friend, Red.

'I guess it comes down to a simple choice, really. Get busy living or get busy dying.'

The Shawshank Redemption (1994).

While listening to the music stored under S on the iPod I join in, angelically singing Side by Travis and then sang Sing by them. They are both lovely songs from their 2001 album, The Invisible Band, which cheer me up and warm my heart.

The thunder and lightning storms with rain brought a welcome and dramatic change last week. Standing outside enjoying the splashes upon me I held out my glass of water, which was half full, of course. I caught twenty raindrops, imagining them to contain some elixir of desert life which would further benefit me. After swishing the clear fluids together I then sipped them slowly down, unfiltered. I remain the same, unchanged.

Bougainvillea

Why would our kettle decide to break at this particular moment in time? We are starting to throw things out or sell them which is both cleansing and exciting. Now we have to boil water in a pan which I quite like; it doesn't seem as convenient but reminds me of camping stoves, simplicity and survival. I have yet to begin Walking The Nile with Levison Wood, I'm just waiting for the right time.

Have I ever mentioned that I often see bright green parakeets flying around overhead?

The good thing about reading true crime novels is that they put me on edge and make me more aware of strange men. Take, for example, last Saturday's trip to the local shop. I dress appropriately as per usual but proudly wear my smile as I am happy and really appreciate the kindness and help which often comes my way. While beaming my thanks to the young Indian man who packs my shopping for me, an unknown customer gets caught in the crossfire. He somehow misinterprets my smile and hovers around my trolley, then leaves. As I drive away from the car park I see another vehicle pull away at exactly the same time and I recognise the stranger. Keeping my eyes fixed on the rear view mirror I get the real sense that he is actually following me.

We go through the security gate and continue along the quiet road ahead. Instead of taking my usual route home I make a detour and sure enough so does he. So I lead him on a merry dance around the compound until he hangs back further, receiving my message. I eventually reach a junction where he, still on the main road, has to drive by in front of me. He had the audacity to give me a little wave which I ignored and told him in no uncertain terms to get lost! This happened in broad daylight at approximately 10.30 am in a safe place. I wasn't really scared just amazed and annoyed at the boldness of this man and did wonder what his intentions were. Perhaps he wanted to discuss the price of oil, climate change, the harrowing migrant crisis, or whether the UK should remain in the EU, with a cheerful, honest, sun-kissed, freckled faced Western woman? I shall never know and gladly so.

Am I going to stop smiling? No, of course not, it's impossible for me.

It was great to hear Romeo's cousin on BBC Radio 5 Live recently. He has a gentle Lancashire accent, is kind and caring with a brilliant sense of humour. He is the manager of a care home in Rossendale and was speaking sound sense concerning provision for the elderly and our Government's responsibility towards them. Another unsung hero making a positive difference in everyday life.

'Very often at the heart of the difficulty, there is the light of a great jewel. It is wise to learn to embrace with hospitality that which is awkward and difficult.'

From anam cara by John O' Donohue.

Obviously, I need to hug each member of my family much more. And I need to be hugged back.

With Love xx

Where I write

Reading: Conversations with a Killer by Alan Ash, Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell, Last Letter, a breathtaking poem by Ted Hughes and The Comfort of Strangers by Ian McEwan.

Writing: Just finished editing the whole novella for the final time and am almost ready to jump off the giant cliff into this scary, yet exciting realm of unknown possibilities. Having begun writing diaries at the age of ten is it likely that I have already accomplished the 10,000-hour rule? I suspect that I am still a work in progress.

Singing: Don't be so hard on yourself by Jess Glynne and Silent Sigh by Badly Drawn Boy.

Watched: Jimi Hendrix (1973), Notting Hill (1999), The Ugly Truth (2009) and About A Boy (2002). I think Toni Collette is a brilliant actress and in my ever humble opinion, this film features Hugh Grant at his very best.

Missed: Huddersfield Literature Festival 2016 but will be there next year! @Hudd_Lit_Fest

I enjoy comparing the music videos for Unfinished Sympathy by Massive Attack (1991) and Bitter Sweet Symphony by The Verve (1997), loving both songs equally, singing them with emotion and aggression accordingly.