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).

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.