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.

Footnotes, friends and the fury

A footnote for the previous post

I did check all plural forms of the penis for any of you clever dicks out there thinking that I may have made a cock up.

Can you feel the force?

Sometimes the facebook force is so strong and it draws me into Romeo's secret world. I flick through his news feed watching it scroll up like end film credits, seeing many names I don't know. When I glimpse the ones I do know, I pause and smile, giving them the credit they deserve. The problem with facebook for me is that it is not enough. If I see you in a photo I want to be right there with you and I miss you more. Is that what the force is? How many friends can we cope with, surely 300 is far too many Romeo? Although most of you read me via facebook so I am eternally grateful for this connection. Still resisting the urge to create my own account I think about the diverse and wonderful collection of my lovely friends. They know who they are.
I am tentatively considering creating a page as a writer to tap into this digital age of publishing.

'A friend is a loved one who awakens your life in order to free the wild possibilities within you.'

From anam cara by John O' Donohue.

Just to let all my home county friends and family know I have signed the online Government petition to prevent the closure of Huddersfield A&E department.


Making Chocolate with Mini-Me

Josh: We have to make some chocolate for homework.

Susie: Great! (she is secretly dreading this chaos).

The Sue chef lets the mini one take control. Bewilderingly they have all the ingredients in the pantry already. He weighs, measures, mixes, pours and spills. She has fun and stirs the melted mass on the stove becoming Vianne Rocher in Chocolat. Did you know that Joanne Harris is from Yorkshire too?

Susie: Très bon Joshua, il est fantastique! I know your favourite chocolate, blanc oui, comme Papa?

This homework gets 10/10, a zillion house points and a gigantic green tick from me.
Merci Professeur de Mini-Me!

Mini-Me in his chocolate factory

Yet Another Kitchen Drama

Why do we always end up in the kitchen? The stage lights are of course brightly lit and blinding.

Enter Dirtbag and the action.

We have a heated discussion about both something and nothing at the same time. It's like speaking an alien language and it always takes me down a dark tunnel like Alice on her way to Wonderland, except this is real. I can't for the life of me recall any of the bizarre back and forth dialogue. I probably erased my memory shortly afterwards.
To emphasise one of her points, Ellie forcefully yanks the fridge door open causing the glass jar, containing my homemade salad dressing, to jump off its shelf in shock and smash onto the tiles below. It looks like sick and she unintentionally smears it further afield with a sweeping brush when I shriek at her to clear it up. The microwave referee beeps and in my distress I spill some of my piping hot homemade soup on the work surface and floor.

We are drowning in food stains and screams.

I banish her from my sight and find some solace in singing Talk Show Host by Radiohead at full volume.

I still love her with my whole heart and soul, acknowledging what a despicable dirtbag I was myself at the tender age of fourteen.

Desperate to see Zoolander 2 soon. In the meantime, I will waltz merrily along.
Hope you can join me I'm driving.

With Love xx

www.youtube.com/watch?v=QZTCt-nQY9U

Chocolat - a brilliant book by Joanne Harris and also a great film (2000). Something for you to read/watch during this season of Lent?

A proper footnote

The first footnote is of course technically wrong as it appears at the top of my page but I just had to get it off my chest.

For Fun's Sake!

This is dedicated to any of you out there who need cheering up. I hope it makes you laugh loudly.

I was nearing my destination taking Dirtbag from training to a shopping mall on Saturday. Why were some other drivers and passengers smiling at me while we were stuck at the lights? Checking my rear view mirror, I gasp in horror as I see the giant penis complete with testicles boasting a few pubic hairs, drawn into the dust on the back windscreen. Why haven't I noticed this appendage before now? I'm already driving a huge, throbbing red engine down the highway, why should I need any more attention? The setting sun must have suddenly decided to illuminate this childish work of art in its window frame.

Continuing to freak out but laughing hysterically at the same time I frantically search for the knob (!) to turn the rear windscreen wiper on; it has gone AWOL or something. I've never needed to use it before now. Meanwhile, the front windscreen wipers are frenetically whizzing back and forth, successfully washing the already clean screen. I have no choice but to get Dirtbag involved.

'Phone your father now and tell him that we have got to get rid of a giant penis riding on the back of the fire engine! By the way love, I have never seen one as big as that before.'

I am ranting on and on about penises, nobs, and all sorts. Dirtbag does smile and giggle a bit which only encourages me further in my diatribe. Those of you who know me well will know that I blush quite easily despite my mischievousness and play on words.

Romeo doesn't know where the vitally needed knob is either but admits that he did know the penis picture was there from the other day! Are you kidding? Is this some kind of Tracey Emin A level art project? Or a secret code for 'Follow me if you need some Viagra or something else?' What must the Arabs around me be thinking? Who would put me to such shame and humiliation? Was it the fuel attendant, some cheeky schoolboys or an impertinent colleague? Why are these lights not changing from red to green?

Still fluctuating between laughter and embarrassment I hallucinate that it could actually be seen as a simple artistic representation of the cannon outside Zubarah Fort.
Thank goodness it wasn't projecting an explosion!

At long last, we arrive at the shopping mall. It seems as though I have been driving forever. I park swiftly and jump out grabbing the box of tissues from the boot. It takes just a few wipes to clear the blot from my rear view horizon before I can calmly carry on with the next task in hand; teenage underwear for her and a Bond girl outfit for me!

Feeling cleansed again, I am reassured that nothing is in fact too big for me to handle.


PS I have now located the rear windscreen wiper knob just in case a massive pair of exposed breasts should be discovered travelling at high speed with me on my next journey. Don't YOU dare!

At Zubarah Fort, February 2014

Did this Running Man inspire mini dirtbag?