Mad Hatter or really a writer?

I think I must be a very fickle woman. I flit about between writing and making and while I might concentrate on one at a time, I can’t quite commit fully for ever: when I’m writing, I think I can live without making and vice verse, but eventually I realize I need the other one in my life too. And I dump the one I’m doing for the other. For a bit. ‘Til next time. Fickle, see?

I dumped writing back in February. I flirted a bit with jewellery but my talents didn’t lie with metal; too small (bananas for hands) and too tough (I was a bit scared of the material’s needs (fire!)

As a maker (I have never been very comfortable with the word sculptor. I think perhaps my interest in craft - as opposed to fine art – makes me more comfortable with the notion of being a maker. Though when I did my fine art degree, craft was considered by some, the poor cousin) Anyway, as a maker, I’ve always been materials led but it can’t be any old material. It needs to be right.

As well as being fickle, I’m a courses ‘whore.’ I do LOVE to learn. And after several summers taking Arvon courses (writing) this summer I chose millinery. Long term readers will know that I’ve dabbled in making headwear, though god knows after this summer, I’m a bit embarrassed about them. Still, there’s a learning curve to everything, eh?

Here then, modelled by Daughter, are the two pieces I made during an AWESOME three day workshop with the enormously talented Bridget Bailey, of Bailey Tomlin. See, I’m never writing again; it’s making (hats) all the way from now on…

What kind of superhero are you?

Husband and I were catching up on the day’s events last night. My Dad had been in hospital for a cataract operation so I’d been on the ‘phone checking out how he was. Husband asked after Dad’s new vision. “Still a bit blurry,” I said. “He’s on some tablets that affect the action of his iris… It’ll take some time.”

It took us back two weeks to Daughter’s rush to hospital for the appendicitis that wasn’t. We were still in the ER and things were just concluding; the medics were finally able to give her something for the pain and the admin staff were doing the paperwork to admit her. Panic over; most likely diagnosis: a tummy infection. We began to laugh about a noise coming from the next bay (was it a sneeze or a mobile ‘phone?) when Daughter said, “Mum, I can’t see. My vision has gone blurry.”

I was thrown into panic again: repanic – there should be a word. We weren’t 100% sure what was wrong with Daughter but you don’t just ignore symptoms like that so I began to flap. I wanted to wave over a doctor and Husband said, “I’m sure it’s fine.” (It was a temporary consequence of the pain relief they’d given her.)

So last night, lying on our bed, thinking about the blurry vision of both my father and my daughter, I berated Husband. “You’re so casual,” I said.

“I’m Ice-Man,” he said.

“No, I’m fairly certain, if you were a super hero, you’d be Blasé-Man.”

“Help! Help! My cat’s stuck up the tree,” Enid cried. “No problem, Ma’am, Blasé-Man is here. Cat’s like trees; I expect he’ll come down when he’s hungry.”

“Help! That man stole my purse! Get him-” Mildred cried. “Aw, Ma’am. How much cash was in there? Only a few pounds? No problem Ma’am; that’s not so much to lose…”

It worries me slightly that I’m beginning to toy with Blasé-Man (in my head, people.) What does Blasé-Man care about? What costume would he wear? I am fairly certain that it would involve pink polyester. (He wouldn’t need to worry much about chafing because from his reclining position there wouldn’t be much rubbing.)

I think it’s time I wrap this post up now…

Thursday Photo - just because

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Thai Dancing with Cheesy Corn Snacks

The Leotard Lady

I’ve been wondering of late whether I’d finally got used to here; had I become jaded and inured to delights of Bangkok?

And then… last week I got an email informing me that ‘the leotard lady’ will be in the gym at school on x date between these times. The letter invited parents to come along.

Crikey; this could mean anything in Bangkok. I thought for a minute about what this ‘leotard lady’ might be doing and then I realise it probably won’t have anything to do with ping pong balls, will it? Not if it’s in school?

I read further down the email, and all was explained.

So yesterday, I went to school to meet the leotard lady. I bumped into my friend’s husband and told him why I was in school. “Really? Bespoke leotards?” He said.

‘The Leotard Lady’ was sitting on one of the benches at the edge of the gymnasium. She spoke no English. She had a pile of leotard catalogues and a bag full of stretchy, glitzy lycra type material.

I had a little worry (as is my way) that this was an outrageous thing to let Daughter do – made to measure leotards? Will she ever recover from such extravagance? Then I heard the price (it was fair.) I thought about the cheap ones we’d bought here that had fallen apart after a few washes. And I considered the outrageous expense of the ones I’d seen on the internet when I’d gone looking for better quality leotards than the ones we'd got here.

Daughter and I rummaged around the swatches and we picked out a dazzling array of ‘see me, here I come’ twinkly fabrics and two leotard designs with ‘go faster’ stripes on them.

In two weeks the leotard lady will be back to deliver the garments. I can hardly wait.

Not the Boomtown Rats

I am feeling very jolly today.

I like Mondays. I think it might be a hangover from my art college days when I attended part time on Mondays and Tuesdays. How I loved the end of the weekend so I could get into college and make things.

It’s still utter selfishness that I like the start of the week. (Shhh, it’s because I can go back to writing and not thinking about family again until the end of the day.)

I’m also cheerful because the Computer Studies coursework was done. At least I think it was. I am told it was. I refuse to chase it up and look at every piece of paper. I have to remind myself it is NOT my homework. I will help and support; answer questions, ask my friends and family for specialist knowledge but I will not make myself sick with worry.

I am excited because another Novel Racer is coming to Bangkok and I hope to meet up for coffee. I love the Novel Racers… what a wonderful community (and wider community) we’ve created.

I'm cheerful because Daughter's gym went really well yesterday; and because GAP is coming to Thailand in March. I'm a fickle one - that makes me really happy.

I have been sorting out the travel pieces and one of the troublesome pieces is coming together in my head. I am seeing the shape so I'm off now to begin writing it.

Sunday word count

How I’ve got any words written this week is a minor bloomin’ miracle. First there was the expedition of getting Son ready for the expedition; then Sampeng Lane in Chinatown (which I will post about tomorrow) and finally the purchasing of a dress for Daughter for a ‘do’ on Friday.

I told Daughter I would come to the shopping centre on condition that I would write while she shopped … Starbucks would do its magic, turning me into a writing dervish while she shopped and her feet got worn out and then I would approve the dress and pay.

We went to MBK: I settled myself at Starbucks.

After about thirty minutes she returned because the zip on her shorts was stuck (won’t go up; won’t go down.) She went off to find something cheap to buy to change into; she came because she’d found some shorts and needed the money, and then she returned with the change, she returned again to show me what the shorts look like on. Then she went off shopping again. Fifteen minutes later, she came back because she was hungry so we went off for lunch. And finally, after lunch she disappeared shopping again; fifteen minutes later she came back to say ‘MBK hasn’t got anything.’

So we went to another mall and I settled myself down at the second choice of Starbucks because my normal one was full. She found a frock but I wondered if the whole thing had been a tactic as I was a bit unsure about the dress’ suitability but I was so ground down I couldn’t argue.

I’d written 93 words in four hours.

So Sheepish, I won’t have beaten you this Sunday unless you’ve also been madly busy. It’s a bit pitiful but I have managed my minimum (500 words five times a week.) This week my word count is 2642.

Why? WHY?

There a great mystery at the Towers – that’s where I live. And no, it’s not who’s finished the milk: that was bloomin’ Son. Any chance of a second cup of tea just disappeared into a gargantuan bowl of Cheerios with the deep but no less whiney tones of ‘There was hardly any left! Anyway, you’ve had a cup of tea.’ Yes, I had just had a cup of tea and there was over half a pint remaining. And, it’s 6 *lots of filthy language inside my head* AM in the morning. I NEED several cups of tea.

So no, there’s no mystery there: just a horrible, physical dependency worthy of the Priory and a ‘thinks only of himself’ teenage person.

The mystery then… What’s the whodunit?

Where have all the scissors gone?

I’ve always been crafty – that’s not to say that I would have finished the milk and lied about it… not as in deceitful or guileful – but that I made things. Remember I was a sculptor in a former life? Now, decent tools (as well as a second cup of tea) are essential to the sanity of someone who ‘makes.’ I do have to confess to a certain obsessiveness when it comes to scissors. I blame my Mum for that. Scissors are a little bit like lip salve - I have to have them everywhere. You have no idea when you might need ­them. It’s most important that there’s a decent pair, a pair that actually cuts rather than abuses, to hand.

Ikea used to sell a pack of three scissors: one large two smaller. I think I kept the Wembley store afloat by the number of these three packs I bought. They were dirt cheap and they cut and continued to cut until a child or stupid person (sometimes I was that person) got them gunked up with nasty stuff and after that they’d creak open and not cut cleanly. They’ve always gone walkabout but without the ability to buy another packet or three, they just seem to disappear into thin air.

It’s true that I do have two large pairs on my desk (I am toying with attaching a chain to them so that they can’t wander) but I have just unearthed this small yellow handled pair in Daughter’s room. Hmmm.

Proud Mum

Today Husband’s playing golf with a colleague from the UK; Daughter’s gone off (voluntarily) to do some charity work through school… Son, who is considerably more difficult to motivate, was informed, by me, a week ago that he would be joining me for my stint at the library used book sale today.

I don’t think I ever uttered the words ‘I’m not asking, I’m telling’ but the gist… the picture… was well and truly got by Son. Still, he’d forgotten by midweek and I had to remind him he’d been press ganged and couldn’t go for a sleepover on the Friday night… He looked a bit disappointed but not a grumble was heard.

He was woken this morning from his teenage slumber (which would normally have gone on towards lunchtime) without a moan. He came to the sale and was charming and acted as my human calculator adding up the different prices of books, helping old people (really) and running errands.

I considered taking him by the shoulders, shaking him and asking ‘Who are you and what have you done with my son?’ Instead I beamed with pride, rewarded him and sent him off to the cinema to meet his friend.

This is the Neilson Hays Library (where I am bookbuyer) and our book sale today (and tomorrow.) Fingers crossed we raise lots of money.

Before and After

My sister has a pair of shoes that she loves… these brown ones. Apparently they are lovely to dance in. Though I can barely walk in anything with a heel, much less dance… even jiggle. I am more of a comfortable shoes kind of woman. (This is Daughter modelling the brown shoes. Being thirteen, Daughter longs for the day when she can wear shoes with heels.)

Anyway, for my sister’s birthday I agreed to get them copied here in Bangkok. The brown ones keep breaking and being repaired (though I have since discovered that she slips them on and off without undoing them: WHAT else would you expect? I said, being the sensible sister.) My sister says that they are the most comfortable shoes in the world. She said that she would love to have them in red; bright, beautiful, hooker red.

So I got them made for her at Liu’s Bootery underneath the Asoke skytrain stop on Sukhumvit Road. And when I went to the UK recently I took the new shoes.

What do you think?

Sports Photographer of the Year. Not.

I’ve been having a think; if this writing thing doesn’t work out, I reckon I could have a career as a sports photographer…

What do you reckon?

Reality check

When Daughter was small she came to me one day and said ‘Mummy, in the olden days, was the world black and white?’

At the same time as thinking her mother lived ‘in the olden days,’ Daughter routinely knocked ten years off my age. Sadly, in the last few years she’s got wise to this and remembers my correct age.

Living in Bangkok, I can believe that the world might once have been black and white. Something that’s always struck me about this place is its tendency to transform into exactly that: monochrome.

Black and white is what I woke up to this morning (8am-ish). I wanted to show you this to dispel the idea that I live in some tropical bliss.

The Lost World

I had a bit of a bad night's sleep last night. There were three of us in our bed! Oooh er. None of that, though, it was daughter who crept in about two o'clock terrified by the mother of a thunderstorm. It went on for hours, and then started up again at 10am for two hours. I was desperate to print out my words ... millions and millions of them. Well, thousands anyway, but I'd got no printer ink.

When I eventually go to the shopping mall, feeling a bit peeved at the waste of time, I had to laugh, it had turned into The Lost World. It really is bonkers here.

Not hearting so much today

AM
Lovely morning: cup of coffee with Andrew Computer, gossiping and chatting about Photoshop: who’d’ve ever thought it?

PM
Filthy, foul mood caused by idiosyncrasies of the ‘way’ things are done here. Some tears; lots of swearing; general bad temper.

Late PM
Reasons to be cheerful:

• Daughter was pleased with how her English exam went.
• Son said his ‘cross hatch self portrait’ homework looked like a Halloween mask. Still chuckling: he was right.
• Penang curry: leaving the beef behind for Husband and eating all the eggplants.
• Son making me a cup of tea: more tears? Maybe.
• Daughter's science homework about a sperm running a marathon.

No more sickness of any kind...

On Friday night we went out as a family to eat steak. We had a really lovely meal but I was stuffed full, TTT, (tummy touching table) and should have walked home, but was wearing silly shoes so we had to take a taxi.

On Saturday we went shopping. Husband bought GIGANTIC trainers for Son. Son is 13 years old and is wearing sized 10 trainers, and we both felt a bit sick. Last time Husband bought trainers for Son he was a child sized 10. Daughter was bought her first something that I shouldn’t discuss here, for sensitivity reasons, and now between the two of them, I feel about 74. Husband bought me my birthday present (a week early) which made me a bit sick with excitement. (I am neither 74 nor 75 on this upcoming birthday!)

On Saturday night we met friends at the Londoner pub for the rugby. Oh my, sick with anticipation, but so as not to offend my Australian readership, I shall be calm and gracious (- but we always get beaten, so it was fab…)

On our way to Sunday lunch, I issued a pronouncement.

‘No more sick children. I want to go to my office this week’.

And that is what I shall do.

Five Things What Are Good

Right, in balance to my neurotic moment yesterday, today I am taking the advice of Jon M to produce a list of Five Things What Are Good:

1. Yesterday in my miniscule time available for writing I wrote 258 words. Nobody died; nobody shouted at me that I was crap; I enjoyed myself and have even got a few more words.
2. Daughter shone in her part in the school play; remembered all her lines; husband got out of work early and took me to lunch, and he operated the digital camera.
3. Photoshop. How did I ever live without being able to make pictures of The Archivist in a dodgy suit, myself with matchsticks in my eyes and maps of Fictionville? I so love Photoshop and I really want to get better at it.
4. Dim Sum, yellow dahl and tea.
5. Sleep

What is it?

One of our favourite games is pictures in the clouds. Daughter spotted this one when we were on our way home from a gymnastic competition at school yesterday. (Did I mention she won a silver medal for the vault?)

Scroll down to find out what we say it is.




















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A mongrel dog chasing a teddy bear from behind a bush. Look how fast Teddy is running away from Dog!

Family holidays

My sister-in-law and her family have come out to Bangkok see us for Easter. Although we keep in touch pretty well, it’s lovely to see them all here and for them to see where and how we live. In the UK we didn’t live that close to Sister/Brother-in-law who have small children (now 5 and nearly 7) so when we came to live in Thailand the cousins hadn’t spent lots of time together: family celebrations were the only time they saw each other, and their little ones were a bit small to remember.

So now they can get to know each other very well and enjoy each other’s company for almost two weeks: one week in Bangkok and 5 days at the beach.

(My) daughter has innate maternal skills she did not get from watching me. She takes care of her little cousins: anticipating and dissipating tantrums and hissy fits. There’s been lots of frolicking in the swimming pool; performances organised and presented, suncream applied, all by daughter, so sister/brother-in-law are getting some down time and a proper holiday.

With 'almost teenagers', I’d forgotten how hard work small children are: how you cannot take your eyes off them for long. I watch with delight at the energy, the get up and go and selflessness of daughter and it makes me very proud. I also see her recognizing when she needs to spend time alone, and announcing ‘I’m staying home today to work.’

I’ve never spent as long as two weeks with Sister-in-law either, so new stories are exchanged: tales husband has told me from his perspective are shared by her from her standpoint.

My dining chair seats are covered in Marmite, paint has been picked off our paintings and there’s pee all over the loo seats, but our children have created memories, anecdotes to share with their cousins and to tell their children, stories to reminisce over in years to come.