I’ve woken up with a clear head this morning. I only had a glass of wine and was back in my room by 10.30 or so… Sad, eh? A hotel is a weird place to spend NYE because you get the feeling that ‘fun is compulsory’ and that makes me feel less sociable than ever. Our NYEs back home have always been spent with our best friends – The Archivist and the High Priestess of Punk-chew-ation so I’m always a bit sad when we aren’t together.
Now it’s time to pack up as we’re catching the night train to Bangkok tonight. We’ve had a lovely holiday but I’m ready to go home. I’m tired of salty clothes and not having the book I want right by side… I’ve still got two thousand words to do for my mentor (due 9 Jan) so I need normal again.
I’m really excited about this writing year. The mentoring with TLC has given me much needed feedback. The constructive criticism is essential for picking up faults that that I haven’t noticed I have. The praise is wonderful because prior to this I didn’t know if I was doing anything right. (I am doing things right, though, and I appear to write dialogue very well – how about that, eh?) The continued support from the Novel Racers has been fantastic – though I reckon the wider writing community we’re all part of is wonderful too. Real friends: that’s what I’m making here.
On a personal note: what will this year bring for us? Hhhmmm. Well, I don’t know. Husband doesn’t know. Do his employers? We don’t want to be greedy, but we would just like to keep Husband’s job please. We realise the world is financially fragile, but we’d like to get Son through GCSEs before we have to move: he’ll be half way through in July 09 so really, please can we ask for one more year in Bangkok at least? Then, if you want, we’ll consider moving.
Sweet housekeeping lady eventually reappeared to return the second batch of laundry. I got quite excited about the prospect of returned pants and asked her if they were in the package…
“Oh… just a minute.” Yep; you guessed it. I never saw her again.
Several hours later that afternoon, a mysterious Thai man I’d never seen before turned up with a package for us: two pairs of pants. I uhhmed and I ahhed; I opened the package and made close investigative examinations…
YES, yes: they were Husband’s pants. Hurrah: we’ve all been reunited.