January Half Term Adventures 2015

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

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

White Lines

No sooner are we are getting back into the swing of the school routine, (homework, exercise, playing, bedtime battles etc.) than the very early half term holiday appears on next week's horizon. I must carry on adventuring no matter what.

Whilst  Cinderella-like I sweep up the fallen frangipani leaves in our back yard, I know some of you will be shovelling the winter snow from your paths and drives.

It has been a very sporty week for us Hoyle's. Ellie ran like a gazelle into the strong winds at her Cross Country event, finishing first out of approximately 50 Year 8 girls from other schools in Qatar. My heart swelled with pride as I saw her sprint to the finish line using her natural talent to the best of her ability. This talent began when she was two years old and used to run away from me down Station Road, Shepley.

The storm arrived later that evening with stronger winds. Large splodges of rain were followed by sideways sheets of driving rain. Thunderbolts and lightning were very, very exciting for me as I watched the Grand Finale alone outside in my raincoat. It cleared the skies for Joshua and the year 4 football team to come 3rd in a tournament the next day. All the players proudly received Bronze medals. Their bright orange kit matched Joshua's orange hair nicely I thought.

Cycling outside of the compound is my Get Out Of Jail Free card and I use it as often as I can. I do feel really free as the barrier lifts for me to go through the security gate. Thinking about it now, I got the same feeling when I was 10 years old whizzing relentlessly around the cricket ground, singing to myself. There is, however, a fine line to ride for this freedom feeling here. I cycle on the right side of the road, just to the left of the white line marking the edge of it. If I cycle on the right side of this white line I am teetering on the edge of the tarmac and into the desert itself. Sometimes I venture off road anyway for fun. At other times though, I am forced to swerve off it to save my soul from a terrifying truck. Making me feel as though I am being hunted down like David Mann's character in Spielberg's thriller, Duel (1971).

On another evening outside in the dark, stargazing again, something suddenly bites me. It isn't a desert viper or camel back spider but a menacing mosquito. It bites me on my left thumb, right on the knuckle. Soon I had a red, swollen, itchy erection attached to my hand. Neither the Anthisan cream or Piriton helped much. I awoke in the middle of the night out of my Olbas Oil infused stupor, scratching it madly. I wanted to free myself from this agony and considered getting a blunt kitchen knife to amputate it with. My very own 127 Hours dilemma. Instead, I decide to shove my throbbing member under my pillow, hoping the daylight will bring some relief.

'' Because I don't live in either my past or my future. I'm interested only in the present. If you can concentrate always on the present, you'll be a happy man. You'll see that there is life in the desert, that there are stars in the heavens, and that tribesmen fight because they are part of the human race. Life will be a party for you, a grand festival, because life is the moment we're living right now.''

                                                                  from The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho

Creative Challenges

I am really pleased that my blog is now linked to Nigel's Facebook page. It has really helped my audience grow. I am still resisting the temptation to join myself for fear of addiction. I do spy on you sometimes when Nigel is connecting and occasionally leave a random comment. As you will have noticed I selfishly relish rambling on for much longer than a couple of sentences. I will always prefer face to face friendship, wrinkles, spots, warts and all, but I do understand the different ways we need to connect and respect that. This blog is my way of connecting and I realise it's quite self indulgent. You don't have to read me, but I'm glad if you do.

I find the ideas and words come quickly, but the editing drives me mad. I spend ages checking my grammar and punctuation only to publish the post then notice a glaring mistake. Agh! I had heart palpitations when I realised I had missed the 'o' off  Paulo Coelho's beautiful name. I have since obtained a free grammar checking download to assist me. It is the technical part of writing that I find hard as I strive for perfection. In all things, I recognise I will never be perfect.

I've challenged myself to write a stream of consciousness piece (James Joyce)  and publish it. I challenge you to have a go too. All you need is a pencil or pen and a piece of paper. You literally write down 'what's on your mind,' just as it comes to you. Don't do this after a big argument and do it whilst sober. Consider the consequences carefully if you choose to share it with anyone. Don't worry about grammar or punctuation, just write, you may surprise yourself. I wrote the following in 4 minutes non-stop and it's not edited in any way. Here it comes, gulp!

' Say something, say something anything,' James I really love your lyrics. Words mean a lot to me the ones said and meant. The thoughts in my head are 'alive and kicking,' no mind is simple. Listen to your thoughts, 'listen to your heart when it's talking to you,' I've forgotten who sang that? Maybe it will come rushing back to me soon. 'How soon is now,' pops into my head. Soon enough I suppose. My freshly sharpened pencil glides smoothly over this page. Will anyone ever read it? Does it really matter anyway? Like all the diaries I have ever kept, they were really to sort out my own thoughts and desires. Personal property. I don't really want fame or fortune but I do want to speak the truth. The truth hurts sometimes but in the hurting we are healed. Have I always known this?

Another obvious example of why I have to spend ages editing.

I beseeched the night sky to let me see Comet Lovejoy but he didn't appear. I did, however, share the joy of seeing a small stingray in the shallow sea thanks to some sharp-eyed desert dwelling friends. I also watched Shakespeare in Love (1998) as the perfect antidote to Eyes Wide Shut.

'O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?' No reply.

'Alas, I fear I shalt not see him as he is over yonder sand dune playing golf again.'

Distracted by decongestant

I haven't inherited my mum's culinary skills or my dad's green fingers. Where does this creative force come from? Was there a literary hero disguised as a milkman, delivering more than he should in Shepley in 1971? Did the postman always ring twice at number 98 Marsh Lane?
I've been listening to a few Coldplay songs lately and think that Chris Martin would benefit from sleeping with my husband. Not for love or lyrics sake but simply to clear his nasal passages. The amount of Olbas Oil, (inhalant decongestant) Nigel douses his pillow with every night are practically suffocating me. On the other hand, it could be a secret writing potion. My very own opium working its magic upon me as I drift away 'to sleep, perchance to dream;'......(quote from Hamlet).

The weather has been very unsettled here recently. Strong winds arrived cooling the temperatures to lows of 14 degrees. I know that will seem pleasant to a lot of you. On occasion, I've had to wear a jumper and a jacket at the same time! Joshua still seems to be comfortable wearing his shorts to school.
We've also suffered a couple of sandstorms. The dusty sand is vigorously, fine sieved everywhere, like icing sugar over cakes. It gets into your whole house, hair, ears, eyes, nostrils, mouth, teeth and lungs. There is no escape.
A more pleasant weather front I experienced was cycling into an abyss of thick fog one morning. Moisture fell off my helmet in droplets and the cold, damp sweat I produced reminded me of cycling around my Yorkshire home in autumn. I felt really safe wrapped up in the fog cocoon, as though I was in a bubble of beautiful nothingness.

Things I can buy with my QR14.75 from Carrefour Supermarket, (referring to my Inspired post from 5th January).

30 slices of Mozzarella or Cheddar cheese

450g tub of Coffee Mate light  OR

some Cool Malibu Playboy, full body shower gel and shampoo for him, only QR14.50

Shall I treat him and leave 25 dirhams in my account? Possibly if it doesn't smell of eucalyptus.

I have written 12,467 words of my novel so far.
I have realised that I am very easily distracted, yet also very determined.

Current distractions include:

Listening to 'Don't Panic' and 'Talk' by Coldplay, reading The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho, dancing to Otto's Journey by Mylo and singing along to everything on the radio, Hywel's CD collections, the iPod, youtube, you name it.

 Je m'appelle Susie x

Getting technical

Hopefully now there will appear a link to my blog in Nigel's timeline on facebook.
That is if I have followed the IFTTT.com instructions correctly.
Thanks for all of you taking time to read my ramblings, I appreciate it.
Love Susie x

Metamorphic melancholic

The old, sometimes holey clothes I wear, know how to fit comfortably on my skin. They hang, mould or glide across the contours of my body. Like good friends they don't need to try hard to feel right, they are free, just to be.
I have not had my hair cut since last August, possibly due to the then near rape of my auburn locks. Eleanor recently remarked, much to my delight, that I look like a homeless person. I prefer to look and see that this is me. Happy, hippy Susie in her enlightened writing state. Not weighed down by the constraints of fashion or style but wandering through this desert wilderness, just as Catherine roamed the moors with Heathcliff in Wuthering Heights.
This was Emily Bronte's only novel. Could I too join the Literary Canon as a one hit wonder?

Writing really helps me to stay sane. It's the only thing I can control in my life. I've decided it's better than talking to myself. Especially as I frequently try to engage with our teenager, getting a stony silence at best or a cutting remark at worst as can be seen in the following scene.

Intro
Joshua is asleep, husband out playing football.
Centre stage Susie is happily eating some crisps whilst attempting to watch Eyes Wide Shut (interesting choice)

Action
Eleanor enters stage right

Susie pauses the film at which point Tom and Nicole are dressed in their posh evening wear (no holes) dancing together. Not too freaky at this point. Phew!

Eleanor berates Susie for eating crisps with the sharpness of the apple vinegar seasoning the crunchy potato slices.
 'You're not going to get fit eating those are you?'  She flounces back off stage right. Hopefully to the wings of her bed.

Susie swallows the sour comment and tries not to choke. She presses play and gets drunk with Nicole.

Probably to be continued!

The next evening Josh and I lay together on his bottom bunk, staring up at the glow in the dark stars he has stuck underneath the top bunk. We count them and find different lines of three stars and almost glimpse Orion's Belt.
Three hours later, 10 pm here, I venture outside, lie on the cold flags and gaze up at the real stars above me. I send a kiss to my niece Harriett and nephew Freddie. The stars twinkle, twinkle back at me and wonder what I am doing below on the hard ground. I smile back as brightly as I can reassuring them I am OK, hoping the benefits of my Colgate Advanced Whitening toothpaste can reach that far.


Remember: 'Good friends are like stars, you don't have to see them to know they are there.'
                                                                                                                           Christy Evans

Lost and found

The toy clown lay face down in the desert. When I turned him over he still had his fixed smile in place, even though he had been abandoned. He lay on his back, arms and legs spread out as though he wanted to make a snow angel. Or maybe he had given up his false, fun life and surrendered to death. Back to dust and nothingness.
It would be hard to leave him there alone. Still he continued to smile, the colour of his clothes bright, despite the sand settling on them. A baby bird's feather nestled in his hair. I wanted to kiss him alive and make his dark eyes dance again.
But I didn't.
Three weeks go by. I retrace my footprints in the sand and find him exactly the same.
I'm really pleased to see him again.