Supermoon and a super man

The moon rose exactly in the east as the sun began to set exactly opposite in the west. Both big glowing balls hovered above the monoliths already stretching out their shadows, tentatively touching, 'casting out their sweet line with abandonment and hope?' It felt special. The supermoon preparing to be transformed into a bloodied one with the help of the always super sun. Everything aligning. Why did almost everyone rush away? Were they afraid of the dark or the red tears that may drip drop from the sky's eyes? We left one family contentedly behind, kindly keeping Mini-Me with them for a while longer.
Darkness had descended and we struggled to find the tracks back. Still no fear or worry from me.
'Just head for the lights,' I said.
'It's not as easy as that,' replied Romeo.

Flashback to Le road trip 2015, with a 2005 map of France and no satellite navigation system.

'Haste not now beautiful wife which road do we need?'
'Oh deary me all the road numbers appear to be different my love.'
'Worry not sweetheart, I'll stop the carriage forthwith and check the map.'
'How wonderful! Forgive me for thinking that it would be so much better if you allowed me to drive and tell me where to go beloved one?'
'Do not frown so or you may further wrinkle your brow my heart's desire. I have it all under control.'

Delirious encore moi? Oh la la et Mon Dieu! Back to the desert.

Coming to an abrupt stop, stress levels spiked high, I spy a baby owl perched on a rock right beside us. He stared at me, blinked, then flew away and we found our route back.

'What language is this written in?' Mini-Me asks whilst reading Five Go Adventuring Again by Enid Blyton.
'Old English,' I smile back at him on the bottom bunk together.
''George! Make Tim sit down. He's wagging my hat off!'' I read aloud in my posh Yorkshire accent.
'Is that a figure of speech?' Asks my boy.
I have to say Aunt Fanny quickly trying not to snigger, but he openly chuckles when I stumble across Dick! This is going to be brilliant bedtime reading. Good job it's Uncle Quentin and not Uncle Nobby.

I treated the kids to an all singing, dancing, pyrotechnic, trapeze flying production of Peter Pan. It was amazing. My eyeballs were ping-ponging all over the place trying to keep up with Tinkerbell and the non-stop action. The fire engine had burnt up inside with it's broken down air conditioning forcing a quick change of vehicle, a very patient, Hoyle tolerant friend and off we went. I was so happy we could go to the show and as if by magic we ended up sat in some comfy VIP seats too.

We are currently long-term borrowing a Mitsubishi thanks to kind neighbours. Would you lend your car, van, bike to someone in need? It's an amazing thing to do in my book. Speaking of books I'm still editing the novel and am in limbo, panicking over the next step of possible publishing and how to go about it? Have humbly, gratefully received some positive feedback.

All things are possible.

High on the adrenaline rush from Neverland I slump back down to earth, landing on the cushion of sorrow upon hearing the news that my dear friend, Arthur, had died that morning aged 98. I am fortunate to have enjoyed his friendship for 23 years. He has blessed many, many other lives as well as mine. We shared some quality time together again in the summer. He was on good form and we talked about the important things; life, death, love, friendship. And we laughed and cried. After I had washed his cup and plate, then shut the kitchen door gently behind me having already hugged and kissed our earthly goodbyes, did we both realise it would be the last time? I think so. I take great comfort in knowing he is now at peace, soaring high above with some super strong wings until we meet again.

''Do you realize that you have the most beautiful face, 
 Do you realize we're floating in space, 
 Do you realize that happiness makes you cry, 
 Do you realize that everyone you know someday will die? 

And instead of saying all of your goodbyes, let them know
You realize that life goes fast
It's hard to make the good things last, 
You realize the sun doesn't go down 
It's just an illusion caused by the world spinning round.''

It has been a difficult week to crawl through with some sadness, apathy, family conflict, chronic back and buttock pain. Giving in again, I go to the Medical Centre. Another Doc this time, not the sore throat soother from my last visit.

''Hellooo my darling what is the matter?'' Instantly I feel a bit better.

The physiotherapist gives me some exercises which work wonders. One lovely friend recommends heat while another a cooling gel. Open to anything that may help I gently smear the Biofreeze onto my lower back and (do I have to tell you this?) both buttocks. Now I truly know how the land felt during the last ice-age.Wow! Talk about comfortably numb. Sing it louder Pink Floyd. The thing is how did this injury occur? Was I conscious when it happened or did it strain in a gymnastic dream? More likely it was a squat that went horribly wrong in a circuit training session. Why do I bother? Because I'm worth it and so are you.

I consider performing open heart surgery on myself and slathering Biofreeze over the life-giving organ within when things deeply hurt me. My brain tells me to carefully reconsider, not to numb the pain as then it will never truly heal, but face it boldly and deal with it. Besides the warning on the tube clearly states: 'For external use only.'


Lyrics from Fisherman's Blues (slightly altered) by The Waterboy's (1988)
and  Do You Realize?? by The Flaming Lips (2002)

Reading: I am Malala by Malala Yousafzai

Listening and absorbing every lyric to: Keep The Village Alive (2015) and Graffiti onThe Train (2013) by the Stereophonics in stunned surprise that I will be seeing them live in Doha next month!

Singing to: Hopes and Fears (2004) by Keane

Injury permitting I'm dancing to: Back Where I Belong by Jack Savoretti and Can't Feel My Face by The Weeknd. Do they use Biofreeze too?

Photograph of a photograph: Arthur aged 93, Susie aged 38. Taken in 2010 in our kitchen the year before we came to Qatar.

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

Gulp!

I try hard not to be too shocked by the words that spew forth from our offspring's mouths, however, this stunned me for a few seconds last week.

''I don't want breakfast today because I'm fasting.''

OK. Don't panic. Go with the flow Suze.

The pain comes suddenly and I'm also forced to fast due to a 'mild' throat infection, which I find very hard to swallow. MILD, I don't think so Doc, it's keeping me up all night! I feel like I'm gulping down water laced with shards of glass or mini, rough-hewn hessian sacks, with rusty nails sticking out of the sides, (excessive use of I, I know, but I'm ill OK and feeling vulnerable).
Perhaps I'm just as big, soft and defenceless as those Yorkshire puddings Josh made last week? Apparently gingers do have lower pain thresholds than other colours.

My natural defences kick in, producing endless gallons of saliva which I have to swig down or spit out. OUCH, it's so sore! Would the dentist let me borrow one of his saliva sucking machines? The closest I will get to singing today is gargling some salt water solution. Trusting that the drugs will work, I won't listen to The Verve. OUCH, even swilling them down hurts, a lot! What has become of me? How will I ever survive a Yorkshire winter again?

Pain is different for all of us. Taking the introspective lens off myself and using the wide angle, world encompassing one, I see as you do, the horror of yet more terrorist attacks. Where is the antibiotic to permanently stop this suffering? I swallow my pride and my own temporary discomfort, determined once again not to give in to fear.

This will be my last post before the whirlwind summer of fun. I remain perpetually excited. A huge, heartfelt hug full of best wishes, to all those who are leaving this desert for new pastures. Thank you for all your friendship and support. Many thanks also to those of you who have educated the growing minds of dirtbag and Mini-Me. If I really like you I will probably friendship stalk you forever unless you tell me to get lost. To those of you who are staying in this hot, dusty place over the summer and beyond, keep flourishing. We will be returning in August when my Arabian Adventure will continue.

So, as I tie the laces of my trainers ready to walk deliriously back home, this classic track plays on full blast in my head. Odyssey sang it in 1981, but I prefer this 1989 version. It whisks me straight back into the sixth form common room with my girlfriends. We are sniggering and giggling whilst applying fruit flavoured Body Shop balms onto our pure, undefiled lips.

Smile, sing/gargle and dance along with me. Come on, it's only 5.50 minutes of your time.

 www.youtube.com/watch?v=F3fxbZuPRpY

Safe and happy summer to everyone. I know a lot of you will still be working (''Bloody teachers, always on bloody holiday!'' Ay up, sounds like my extremely hard working, lovely brother), but I wish you the same things.

See you soon!

With love,
Susie xx




Our summer book club read is Dissolution by C.J. Sansom if you're interested.

The Drugs Don't Work  by The Verve (1997)

FPI Project, Rich In Paradise/Going Back To My Roots (1989)

Ego Tripping Out

Whilst waking up every day in perpetual excitement at the forthcoming holiday, I know reality will surely sink in at some harsh point when finding myself trapped with the gang in a silver Vauxhall Zafira, on Le road trip to France and Spain during July. Anxiety also creeps upon me as I ponder how to re-create the honeymoon experience we enjoyed at my aunt's house some 18 years ago, with a teenage dirtbag and Mini-Me in tow.
Mission Impossible? (1996).

We are fortunate to have some luscious limes growing on a tree in the backyard, have acquired a gigantic splash pool plus a comfortable sun lounger. It is possible that I am morphing into the 'wonderful world to share,' not of 'brash' Barbie but more likely the UK's Sindy. She had a swimming pool, 'complete with underwater floodlight and foaming jet stream.' We can manage overhead lights and if we all fart together surely we will enjoy the same wonderful effect.

Trying super hard not to begin my sentences with 'I.' This is very challenging when the main subject matter in Susie's Arabian Adventure is Moi and my right of passage through this time in my life. My up to date diary of now. However, who doesn't get annoyed or irritated from time to time by some egocentric woman waffling on and on? Believe me, she even annoys herself!
Universally speaking one of my main aims is to reveal the real challenges any woman of substance has to face as a wife and mother. Although, it's equally as hard for you guys too, so hang on in there suckers.

Speaking of mothers, how shocking to hear that whilst on the very brink of bringing me forth into this world, my own beautiful, blossoming mum was merrily riding pillion on the Yamaha, hugging my handsome dad in her maternity mini dress! It is no wonder I am as I am. Happy to report she did wear a helmet. Is this why I enjoy the thrill of the chase and life in the slower lane of the bicycle seat?

Gently encouraged at an event entitled, Womanhood, to write down the advice we would give to our teenage self with the wisdom acquired in adulthood, this is what I wrote:

Dear Susie,
Don't be afraid, just be yourself. You are good enough just as you are.
Don't try to be anyone else, just be you!

I'm going to tell Ellie these words every week, for the rest of her lovely life.
Hoping you all feel the power of those words for yourselves too, right here, right now.

Another music video I love and would delight to be in with all my wonderful friends and family.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=DL7-CKirWZE

The green fields, hills and woods are no longer a mirage but are actually waiting there on my not so distant horizon once again. Be prepared friends.

With Love xx


Ego Tripping Out  by Marvin Gaye (1979)

You Only Get What You Give  by the New Radicals (1998)

Making tracks and asking questions

We arrived home after the usual Sunday desert trail (we had even waded through water on this one) to discover Mini-Me's boat shoes were missing. I asked him where he had put them, to which he replied,
''I left them on the car tyre to dry.''
Choosing not to get angry, I decide there and then to take up the cycling challenge and retrieve them the following day.
I wake up and set my mind, knowing that I can do anything with determination if I really want to and pedal off at 7.15 am. I battle against the strong winds all the way, waving to the workmen I pass, who wave back. It's already boiling hot. The distance is approximately 12km each way and it takes me one hour to reach the shoes in the sand. Standing in the warm sea I splash water on my face and arms to try and cool me down, the salt stinging my skin. Preparing for the return journey I eat two of my emergency Oreo biscuits and sip my diluted Summer Fruits juice sparingly (I only had 1 litre of fluid with me in my pink Slazenger bottle. I could be Touching The Void (2003) in the desert at any given time).

Thankfully the strong winds push me swiftly, safely all The Way Back (2010). I had to sing to keep myself motivated, stopping occasionally to let my head breathe free from beneath the helmet. Back to base camp I lie down on the rug to recover for a while, satisfied that my mission was successfully accomplished. I also consider that I could have become just as hot and exhausted by shoving my head in the oven and jogging on the spot for two hours. The shoes could have been abandoned and new ones bought, but I remain a frugal Yorkshire girl at heart. Anyway, some nutter could have found them, rescued them and started writing weirdly about them?
My clown is safe and well sitting in my cupboard for now, just in case you were wondering?
I am very fond of him and cannot let him go.

We enjoyed the school Sports Presentation Evening last week. Joshua went up on stage to collect his certificate for representing the school in many fixtures during the 2014/2015 season, alongside many friends. Ellie was wonderfully awarded the trophy for the Under 13's Girls Player of the year. I am so proud of both their achievements and happy they are both enjoying school here. I love to see them both on the stage (Ellie hates the limelight, Josh a bit more confident but very serious). They were both in the Summer Serenade in April, which was lovely. Ellie plays clarinet in the Orchestra and Josh sings in the Junior Choir. The whole event was a showcase of many children's musical talents, encouraged by their hard working music teachers. The Finale featured Ellie playing one of the solo recorder pieces in Adiemus (Karl Jenkins) in-between all the performers on stage singing their hearts out.

It has taken two months of tag team reading to finish Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone at bedtime, with Mini-Me. It's a bit mature for him I think, but he loves the film and fancies himself as Ron Weasley.

I have at last watched and enjoyed both The Theory of Everything (2014) and The Imitation Game (2014). It's good to get to know the wonderful, clever people from our world both past and present. I know that you are all very clever or you wouldn't be reading this.

Here is a short time-lapse video dirtbag made for us from the Barista. She thoughtfully chose the song Heaven by Bryan Adams. He sang the theme tune for Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves (1991) one of the first films Romeo and I watched together.

A while ago I stumbled across a Yorkshire diarist, Anne Lister (1791-1840) who wrote a four million word diary, one sixth of it apparently in code to her female lover! I have been writing diaries since the age of 10 and have many details in them ranging from boring everyday stuff to the many male victims of my teenage obsessions. Sometimes I  think I am very devious in my blog posts chucking in some hidden references to specific friends or family members, usually through song lyrics. I can't help it, it's too much fun and it hopefully keeps the special relationships alive.
Et bien sur, (argh! I can't get the circumflex above the u, the same problem as the Lindt & Sprungli umlaut, despite a Swedish friend and Hungarian family member assisting me. I blame this Arabic keyboard set to English.) I have to continue speaking french for the sake of ma Famille en Paris.
La vie est belle.

By the way, my self-diagnosed mythical Mid-life crisis is a purely positive force which I am celebrating.

I spied with my little eye this dead, desert viper. What does he want to know, I wonder?

Four days of fun

The start of the recent four-day half term holiday took the four of us to the Barasti (an elevated bamboo/palm frond summer house on a private beach, with an additional enclosed air-conditioned room complete with fridge and T.V). It's a kind of Arabian style glamping I suppose. Dirtbag kicks up a bit of a fuss about going but once we arrive she relaxes and enjoys the paradise for what it is. We swim before sunset and while I prepare the basic barbecue dinner, the three play football on the beach. My beloved friends the mosquitoes join us and have a feeding frenzy off both my calves and ankles, resulting in about twelve itchy red lumps. Unfortunately for me, they adore my O positive blood. We all sleep together in the air-conditioned room which is pitch black and don't awake until 8am the following morning.

There are some gentle rolling waves rushing in when we stagger out into the blinding sunlight. Dirtbag can't bear the fun any longer and says she feels sick, so Romeo takes her home. Meanwhile, Mid-life crisis bobs around solo in the surf for a while (Mini-Me is doing some more word searches in his yellow book, highlighting the words found in fluorescent green) when suddenly about thirty flying fish jump out a few metres in front of me, both startling and delighting at the same time. It reminds me of the scene in the Life of Pi (2012) when the fish fly over and into the boat. I love that book and film equally. Unlike the struggling to survive crew members, I didn't need to catch the fish to stop myself from starving as I had already eaten a turkey and smoked cheese sandwich made with farmhouse brown bread for breakfast. I like to think the fish had heard about Susie's Arabian Adventure and just wanted to feature in it.
Once again, this paradise only lasted 24 hours (the allocated booking slot and for a reasonable fee) but I loved every minute of it.

We continued having holiday fun doing more sea swimming and some banana boating. I wanted to insert a video here that I took, but apparently it's too big! (I am exercising the art of self-control now and am not going elaborate on the matter of size again). Imagine the scene: I am hanging on for dear life to both the speed boat and the iPhone. The kids are laughing and screaming hanging onto the inflatable yellow banana, as I am ooh and ahh ing and wobbling all over the place. The recorded footage resembles The Blair Witch Project (1999) on water and in broad daylight. I blame the boat driver, aka Romeo.

Sadly we cancelled our Annual Hash Ball, fearful of Big Brother closely monitoring our fun and also the venue having being suddenly usurped by VIPs. C'est la vie! I remain at peace, my conscience clear, knowing that an even bigger pair of eyes are watching over all our comings and goings. I know this because when I look up into the bright, blue skies or black, starlit nights they wink at me and a still, small voice whispers in the winds, 'It's OK Susie, keep on singing, dancing, swimming, cycling, walking, talking, reading, writing, laughing and living.You're on the right path.'

How much Pharrell style fun, fun, fun I have had, looking after some other children recently. I spent one day with three great kids, (plus our own great kids) laughing, playing and splashing about in the local pool. Then four cute, cuddly days with a six-month-old baby. It brought back many happy memories while creating new ones for me, as I love that feeling of nurturing and caring for others. Why is it so much easier to look after other children than our own? Obviously because we don't have the overwhelming responsibility for them, for the rest of their precious lives.
Warning: This is not an advert for my childminding services and NO Romeo, I do not want another baby!

Speaking of babies I have now completed the first draft of my novel (or novella, which could become a short story after editing?) and printed it out on paper. I walked around the house with it for a while hugging the pages close to my chest, tears of pride and joy welling up in my eyes. It has taken me nine months to create and is 40,110 words long. The next step is really daunting. I have to ask some of my trusted friends to read it and open myself up to receive constructive criticism so I can redraft it. I'm really scared about doing this, but it has to be done.

Recently read: The Rosie Project: (Don Tillman 1) by Graeme Simsion.Very funny.
Currently reading: Another Sky, Voices of conscience from around the world. Utterly compelling as all the authors have been imprisoned or persecuted by their desire to have freedom of expression.
Singing: Can't Deny My Love by Brandon Flowers, I'm Alive by Magenta and Down To The River To Pray by Alison Krauss.
Enjoying some challenging circuit training sessions, so I'm dancing in my dreams to conserve energy.


'' Fear can hold you prisoner. Hope can set you free.''

  The Shawshank Redemption (1994)