(Random) Friday Photo

Yesterday was a Bad Day.

I toyed with flinging my manuscript out of the window. There was an unusual but welcome wind; from the 21st floor it might have made an interesting piece of performance art.

Instead I took myself off for some chocolate a walk down my new soi. I spotted this random teapot which stood about 75cm tall. I would rather like one for my balcony but maybe not in red.

The teapot cheered me up but not as much as the Dairy Milk Chocolate.

Flying

At last school is finished (for us) and we’re flying to the UK tonight in time for my meeting on Friday. I thought I’d done all my chores yesterday but I still spent the day running around finishing off.

Actually, that’s a complete lie. I delivered a CD to a friend’s condo, bought face masks for the aeroplane (am I overreacting?) And then I got a text message from my friend, Andrew Computer, asking if I was coming by to pick up a DVD … he signed the text ‘From Andrew with Chocolate.’ I mean, who can resist?

So I spent two hours over at his office, gossiping and planning what to do with my blog… or making a website. Then I still had to go home and pack. But I think I’m there now. If I’ve forgotten anything now, it’s got to stay forgotten.

I shall see some of you in the UK. YAY.

Continuing the theme...

Today we continue the Father Christmas theme. And can I use this opportunity to say Father Christmas is what we call him in the UK (or at least we did in my childhood before we became Santa-rised.)

Cor, I really wish I got a Father Christmas like THIS in my stocking. I'd need a massive stocking because these boys are LIFE-sized and ... well ... are they chocolate? Sadly I couldn't get close enough to lick them but I'm tempted to go back to Siam Paragon and break down the rope barrier: all in the name of research. They are sponsored by the Grand Hyatt Hotel, so they really could be.

Operation Cheer Up: in conclusion

I woke up feeling much less melancholy on Sunday. I’m still a bit disappointed, but hey, it doesn’t stop me writing does it?

Operation Cheer Up concluded with some self diagnosis:

• That I require a Sunday roast … so we went off to our local, The Londoner.
• That I need to watch Tootsie again. In the event, it was the thought of watching it that helped with the therapy.
• That this should be accompanied by chocolate. Okay, this one was more than just thought about. This one was literally executed!
• Following lunch I went with Husband for a foot massage at a place along our road. I had an hour’s foot massage, quite the best, most blissful one I’ve ever had, for the grand total of 100 Thai Baht/£1.60/$2.90 (plus tip.)

So I think that's it now: wallowing over. Thank you for your kind words and virtual hugs. They were very much appreciated.

Worrying again... Sorry

I'm feeling decidedly Pantone 292 today.

Why? Why? WHY? When I've written about 3,000 words in two days, sorted out my personal issue, how can I still feel blue?

Why can't I stop worrying?

Today I am worrying for several reasons.

• I've doubled booked myself tonight. My friend S is having a 'Smoochie Smoochie' Party, which is like a tupperware party only for underwear. Smoochie Smoochie is a new, just launched, lingerie company set up by two British women here in Bangkok. It is a totally brilliant idea because farang women (white westerners) cannot buy underwear here unless they are narrow backed with small boobs. Those of us that are born with a chocolate habit, and built with knockers that require works of structural engineering (me) rather than vests, cannot buy bras. So I want to go and I've said I am. BUT...
• Our twice monthly quiz is on at the Londoner pub. I go with some of Husband's colleagues and any visitors we can recruit. We are the Soi Dogs team and you can see from the website that we really are spectacularly awful. It takes real skill to be that crap. I enjoy it though, I like going, I like the colleagues and I don't care about losing atrociously. They don't exactly rely on me (the two questions out of 100 I might actually get right, is really quite negligible) but I like the evening.
• I'm worrying that even though I'm writing, I've totally lost my voice. Obviously I don't mean I'm croaky voiced, I mean I'm not writing like me. I worry so much about 'How to Write' that I've gone lost all the me-ness about the story.

Now it's all okay, though: one day soon I will wake up less blue-feeling. Tonight I will go to the tupperware/underwear party first, then flit off to the quiz. I think maybe chocolate will solve my voice/me-ness problem, and then reading, not writing. And if chocolate doesn't solve it, it'll still be yummy.