On Tea (mine) and Tenacity (Liz's)

Yesterday I did a guest post over at Liz Fenwick’s blog. I was talking about tea; actually I was talking about life in a foreign country but channelling the tea theme. (And do go and look at my sister’s beautiful teapot, which has a starring role in the post.)

Liz and I met online as early Novel Racers. I think I’m going to make her blush but have a huge admiration crush on Liz. She was already taking her writing seriously when she joined the novel race but she has shown such tenacity through those years of learning the craft, that… well, I just really admire her. I know a teensy tiny bit how difficult writing a novel is and I hadn’t even got to the rejection stage!

So this month, Orion is publishing Liz’s first novel, The Cornish House. I cannot wait to read it.

Liz was always a great support to me when I was writing and I am enormously grateful for that. It leads me to thinking about my own experience and of my recent giving up status. Have I given up? Have I stopped just for a bit? My good friend, P – of the ‘total strangers for Christmas’ episode…. (Gasp! I don’t think I’ve ever recounted that story on this blog. There’s a post for this week, then.) Anyway, P asked me yesterday on skype about my writing and how I feel about not doing it. I’m still very happy with the decision. I often have ‘mmm, that would make a good story’ thoughts and I think regularly about the non-fiction book, which I think has real potential if someone else hasn’t already written it by the time I get my act together. In fact, I’m pretty sure I will write fiction again but right now I’m happy because I'm still creating: I've returned to my art roots for the time being. More on that another time.

Friday Photo: My thoughts exactly

Two for tea; tea for two

I had a lovely leisurely tea at Cha By the Park the other day with a friend. It's interior is gorgeous and so bijou you feel as though you're in someone's home. It serves the best range of teas: two choices of Long Jin (Dragon Well) my most favourite green tea. 

The park (in its name) is Benjasiri Park, over Sukhumvit Road. I feel a relationship coming on...

Bless me father...

I am very fond of saying that I don’t have many sins; I don’t smoke, I don’t drink (very much - because it poisons me; no really, actually poisons me, like five day hangovers!) and I don’t take drugs.  Since I had a raised blood sugar test, even bloomin’ chocolate’s been banned. (I confess, I sometimes eat dark.) Tea, I whine, is my only pleasure left in life.

But then I remember actually I’ve got quite a bad handbag habit not to mention a horrific book habit. I’ve been trying really hard to buy fewer books – to make a dent in my TBR bookshelves (oh yes, plural. Husband really wants to shame me by telling you HOW many there are. He’s threatening to find out how to post a photo in the comments…) I’ve been doing quite well on the book front - only buying friends’ books - until my sad patch last week. It doesn’t really count, if you’re sad, does it? Then it’s medicinal. You know, instead of anti depressants. I think if you go twice and buy two books, it’s infinitely better than going once and buying four. I had double the fun!

But then, it occurred to me that I’ve got quite a penchant for boxes – you know, containers. I love boxes with lids; I always intend to fill them with things (books?) but actually I just covet them because I love them. There’s nothing utilitarian about my buying them – they’re just beautiful in their own right and so they usually end up displayed empty.

And it doesn’t end there. I also have trouble with textiles. I’ve always been a feeler (ooh err;) my friend K, in my first year here, always used to tease me about how I’d have to palpate everything in the shops – fabric, textures. I need to touch it and I can’t walk past without doing so.

When we were in Chiang Rai a couple of weeks ago, I had to buy some hill tribe textiles because, well you do, don’t you? We tourists have to patronize the local crafts. And look, isn't it pretty?

I bumped into a friend at the BIG & BIH exhibition on Saturday. She was buying fabric while simultaneously trying to sort out family on the phone. I caressed the cotton, thinking about my promise to Husband that I would try really hard not to buy any material. (I could have failed, right?) When my friend got off the phone I asked her what she was going to do with the fabric she’d brought. “I don’t know yet,” she said. She looked down at her purchase and then up me and said: “No, I do. I’m going to take it home and put it in a cupboard for ten years…”

I think maybe I should form a support group.

My name’s Jenny and I’m a textileaholic, a boxaholic, a teaholic and a bookaholic.

Presence and Presents

My homecoming was lovely.

There were hugs (lots of them); a Welcome Home banner and, as I’d been in the UK for my birthday, a pile of presents and cards to open. (And then it was right back into Mummy work - sorting out some homework that was due the next day! It was almost as though I’d never been away…)

The presents were thoughtful and lovely and I shouldn’t single out any… but… during half term Son had been to Borneo to climb Mount Kinabalu as part of his Silver International Award (I’m sure you remember the dramas I made of his first trip: it’s odd, but Son and Husband didn’t make nearly such a big fuss about organising this leg!) Any way, look what Son brought me back:

Camellia Sinensis Black Tea from the foothills of Mount Kinabalu! Yum. Very lovely tea it is too.

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.

Tagged by Leigh

Lovely Leigh has tagged me with this meme. The requirements for receiving it are as follows:

List ten honest things about yourself (try to make it interesting, even if you have to dig deep!) Hmmm, I’ve had a problem with this.

1. Pass the award on to ten other bloggers

Okay, here are the ten things:

1. I must have tea. I can do classy tea drinking but mostly, on a day to day basis, I just want workman’s tea. My daily dose of five to eight cups a day, needs to be PG Tips.


2. I am rarely … no, never… to be found without a lip salve in my pocket… and my handbag; and one by my bed. I might possibly give one to Husband too, to put in his pocket just in case. I have always been strict; a purist… Lip salve had to be ‘original.’ You wouldn’t catch me with a flavour until a few months ago when I really let myself go… and bought a milk and honey one. See, I’m not set in my ways.


3. I am kind, tolerant and thoughtful. I am always ready to empathise with people. I need time to get to know people and won’t be ‘me’ until I’m properly relaxed. I’m a ‘grower’ so if you make judgements quickly and don’t reassess, we won’t make it. I am astonished and saddened when people are unkind. Dislike who I am when you know me, but don’t judge me until then.


4. I don’t know why it’s taken me so long to write or to acknowledge to myself I wanted to write. As I’ve dabbled my family have been telling me for years … decades even, that I should but I didn’t know whose dream it was.


5. I am capable and confident – we’ve moved our family to Thailand after all – but I won’t remember what time it starts, where we agreed to meet or which cinema it’s on at. Rarely, I’ll even forget that we agreed to meet.


6. I am not very sociable. I am not the life and soul type. I’d rather be with a small group of people than at a large party. If I’m being loud then I’m relaxed with you (or I’ve had too much gin.)


7. I am a pathological worrier.


8. I need lots of sleep.


9. I need to read.


10. I’m not interesting enough to find ten things to say about myself.

If you'd like to do the meme, consider yourself tagged.

Our journey & The Christmas Series

We had a hideous journey yesterday. We got up at 5.30am and made our way to Hua Lampong train station.

I am constantly astonished by how much of a witch I am without enough sleep. It’s proper Jekyll and Hyde personality change. Tea will go some way to remedying this, but even that isn’t a miracle worker. It was a good job then that I had time for a cup of tea before we boarded our train.

Now, I wasn’t expecting the Orient Express but eughhh, nor was I expecting the yuckiness that was our train. It was ancient, grubby and falling apart… and bloody freezing. Would we even make it? Clearly, as well as Jekyll and Hyde, I’m a bit of a prissy madam too.

Ah well, my resistance (and standards) are much lower than they used to be so I soon got used to it but I am seriously considering the five days on the Trans-Siberian express in the Summer…

It took nine and a half hours … oh dear god… two pink Migraleve followed by two yellow Migraleve followed by more headache and no idea if I could take anything else. The absolute worst thing about it was that I couldn’t see out of the frigging window because of condensation trapped between the double glazing. The window in the loo was open but I wasn’t that desperate. I’m not even going to try and explain the complications of using a squat toilet in a swaying train! I didn’t manage to get to sleep until about eight hours into the journey. After half an hour I was rudely awoken by Son, yelling, ‘is this our stop?’ No it bloody wasn’t. Poor, well meaning Son.

A lovely man from the hotel met us at Surat Thani with lavender flavoured wet flannels and cold drinking water. Ah bless him. There was still more journeying to do though and the next leg onto Krabi was just under three hours.

We arrived at the hotel in the dark, but it still looked fabulous. It has precipitated discussions between Husband and I about a dream house. This is strictly dream material, unless they can be built for shirt buttons. I shall post pictures of this inspiration later on when the Christmas series is finished.

I’ve woken this morning, sans headache, feeling relaxed. I’ve worked out how a character died … and I’m desperate to write. Lovely Husband has taken the kids out to explore … leaving me to blog write.

It feels very odd to have had our December 25 while you’re all on the run up to it. (I’ve only played on the wii twice but I’m beginning to be converted to its charms. I shrieked with laughter as my cow ran consistently into the fences!)

More meme

Thank you to Carol and Paige for passing this gorgeous award onto me.

The Rules

1. Copy and paste the rules and instructions into your post.
2. When you post about receiving this award, make sure you include who gave you the award and link it back to them.
3. Post five winners and link it back to them as well.
4. Post five of your addictions.
5. Add the award image.
6. Let your winners know you gave them an award by leaving them a comment on their blog.

Five addictions, eh? There isn’t much I haven’t already ‘fessed up to here. So, one word answers (mostly) for me:

• Tea
• Lip Salve
• Books
• Writing
• Carbohydrates

So the next step is for me to nominate five other bloggers for this award so I pass this to the Leigh, Rachel, Yvonne, L-Plate and Karen. Note: some of these are a bit on the quiet side at the moment, for one reason and another, but they are among my favourites.

T is for ...

I love a meme and this one is from Marmite & Tea. If you want to do it you need to leave a comment for me saying so, and then I give you a letter. Marmite & Tea has given me the letter T and the meme is my list of ten things I love beginning with T.

So, in no particular order…

T is for Tea: PG Tips is my favourite but I’ve had phases for Yorkshire Tea as well. Although I love a good strong builder’s tea, I can be quite classy too, partaking of green tea (oolong is my favourite) when the mood takes me.

T is for Thailand: I am part way through my fourth year here and I never thought I’d have the chance to live as an expat in another country. It was my first time in Asia and is my first experience living in a city. I think it is the most exciting thing ever to happen to me.

T is for TBR pile: I couldn’t live without books and my To Be Read pile needs to be well supplied. I always have a book on the go…

T is for Tootsie: I LOVE the film Tootsie with Dustin Hoffman who auditions as ‘Dorothy’ to get a part in a soap opera to prove to his agent he is employable. I can’t begin to guess how many times I’ve seen the film. I was going to try and tell you my favourite scenes, but there are just too many.

T is for Two children: I have two hands and two knees and when I got one of each gender, I thought it was perfect.

T is for Typography: I needed to take a year off between school and university because I didn’t know what subject I wanted to do. My Dad had a colleague who suggested a secretarial course that one of her nieces had done and I am eternally grateful to my Dad for sending me. I love being able to type. I love that I am fast and accurate and I don’t have to think what I am doing.

T is for Teetotal I wish: I do like a drink but the older I get the more ill I become. I stopped drinking red wine at University because I’d get a migraine before the first glass was finished. Now it’s any alcohol. Sometimes I’m stupid and over-indulge anyway, claiming I don’t care, but I do and it makes me so ill for so many days, I no longer think it’s worth it.

T is for Too much worrying: ‘Nuff said, really. I wish I didn’t.

T is for Trees in autumn: It’s my favourite season and I really miss the colours and weather in England.

T is for The Beast: which is the nickname of Husband.

Happy Birthday to Me

So it’s happy birthday to me today. I’m sitting in our new office (Daughter’s bedroom swapped to old office last weekend), the kids have gone to school, Husband is still in bed. He said on the phone yesterday ‘I saw your blog. We don’t have to do anything; you can write if you want. I can bring you cups of tea all day.’

Gosh, it’s almost worth it.

Husband is a lovely man, but he’s really crap in the tea department. He says it’s because I’m impossible. I’m not; I’ve just got specific standards when it comes to tea. (Water must be boiling, tea must be brewed for 4-6 minutes and then not drowned with milk; simple eh? The mug’s got to be the right one, but that’s not difficult, is it? He could always refer back to my mug post if he’s confused.)

He said ‘if that’s your idea of a lovely birthday: my making you tea all day…’ But do you suppose he thinks he’ll get away without making me tea for the other 364 days?

He’s always trying to rush the tea, but if he thinks you can just brew inadequately and then add milk to make the colour right, he’s very much mistaken. I can tell the opacity of the liquid is wrong. And the taste of course, that’s not right either. Nothing makes him huff and puff more than when I tell him I’m timing the tea he’s making me. Gosh, that does make me sound a bit of a tea fascist, doesn’t it?

But the idea of having him (good naturedly – because Oh Yes, I’d hold him to making tea with a smile on his face!) making tea at my command, really does appeal.

Perhaps I could have a little bell that I ring when I fancy tea …

Words

1,700 words today.

I might not be able to keep that up as I also needed two doses of paracetamol today aswell.

My tea intake has been a bit OTT - I might need Husband to send an emergency package of tea from Bangkok!

Rewarded myself with Bridget Jones' Diary. All that talk of Colin Phwoarth and Hugh Grant, well, what can you expect?

Can't post on my laptop. I'm hoping my trusty Blackberry won't let me down.

Sent via BlackBerry® from AIS

Plan for today

I have set myself a target. I am aiming for 1000 words today which might be foolish and setting myself up for failure but there we are: I have all day. So far I've done 250 words.

I stop for regular tea and fizzy mineral water refreshments, and the odd game of Bejewelled. I'm in a big dialogue scene which I like. I find dialogue easier (than other parts of the writing) but it's a cat out of the bag situation and I'm not yet certain how it's going to happen. The character who lets the information slip isn't malicious so I have to make it sound a genuine mistake.

Anyway, I just stopped to eat a particularly lovely lunch - as illustrated - which I ate while watching Blackadder on the BBC Entertainment channel. It's street soup and cost 35 Baht which is about 57 pence.

Yum yum.

Silly Blogger and something serious

Update: A state of emergency has been declared here because of the political violence during last night. We're all fine and I will keep you all informed.

Blogger was playing silly buggers yesterday and I couldn't log on, couldn't post and nor could I comment. I was bitterly disappointed because I've told you all before how much I LOVE opening up my new word document, labelling it with the new month's name and beginning the new month's postings. Anyway, I did all that in Word and then couldn't declare it to the world. I cut a sad and tragic figure, non?

But when I woke this morning a FULL FIVE MINUTES before my insultingly early alarm there was a lovely Friendship Award over at Angie's Write for me. It's very exciting and has cheered me up no end, because it says lots of stuff that I feel really strongly about when it comes to bloggie friends. Thank you Angie.

It says TEA, with it's pretty little teacups. I'm a firm believer in the restorative powers of Tea. And look, there's a receptacle here for everyone.

It says TRUST which is essential to any friendship but particularly among creative people. When we show you our creations we show you inside our metaphorical knicker drawer. Most times we haven't met but trusting is a good and positive thing.

It says KINDNESS and CARING. Roaming around cyberspace is tough. We don't all blog when we feel low or sad, or tired or uninspired. But individuals still reach out even through no news. I like that: it's real friendship.

HONESTY. This can be a tough one - particularly among writers, as many of us are here. Sometimes it's easier to say something banal, but we should strive for honesty with kindness and caring.

Angie was one of the first people I noticed coming to my blog who wasn't a Novel Racer. We nover racers had signed up to support each other and therefore I felt they kind of had to come and endorse me. Angie didn't have to come. 'Wooo hoooo,' I thought, 'she must come here because she wants to.' And that made me very excited.

Anyway, I'm to award it to five others too.

Lovely Leigh over at The Art of Subtle Procrastination because sometimes ... well ... you just know... even through cyberspace. And I'll never forget seeing her grinning face at the Manchester Novel Racer meet, not having the faintest clue who she was but knowing she was someone special.

Carola Crayon over at Only in Thailand because she's real. Because she tells me I've been stuck inside too long and makes me come out to play. And even though sometimes she hogs the will power we share.

Zinnia over at Real E Fun even though I'm not sure she does awards... but because she has integrity and she has kindness and caring in bucketloads for her fellow (wo)man.

Helen over at Redders Ramblings because she's another one where I just knew. Because she's all the things that this award stands for. She got me writing again when I thought I couldn't do it, she's read stuff for me, she's sent me things and because she's just lovely.

Finally, well you know what? I want to give it back to Angie too.

Dear Lord ...

I’ve been opening up my WIP, finding my place - which is still about half way through the funeral – and finding myself in desperate need to do anything else. I’ve been doing that for about 4 or 5 days. Harrumph.

Now that I’ve recognised what I’m doing (because I was in denial for a few days) I am determined to push through. Although I’ve still gone off to make more tea than I want to drink, and then rewarded my four new words with a game of Bejewelled. The problem is I’m getting my knickers in a twist about the various parts of the funeral: the gathering; readings and sermon; prayers; commendation and farewell; the Committal and the Dismissal. They all sound straightforward, but not all of the prayers in my reference material need to be used. And if someone does a tribute … where in the service does it come? And when the vicar does a sermon … is that about the dead person or something else entirely?

The lovely vicar at home gave me lots of help, and I’ve got photocopies of things and handwritten notes which made loads of sense at the time… He’s very kindly told me I could email him, which I’ve already done to thank him and I included three more questions and in addition he’s told me he’d happily read it. But, well, I don’t want him to harrumph at me for asking too often, too much, or whatever. And it’d be better for me if he can read it all … not part way through. (Though I think I probably shouldn’t include the filthy swearword at the end of the chapter…)

Anyway, I am pushing through … in between Bejewelled; tea and mineral water and lots of weeing …

Now that I am actually making progress, I’ve got another problem: I’m accursed in my head with the hymn ‘Dear Lord and Father of Mankind, Forgive our Foolish ways!’ Here, go and listen. It would be much better for me if it was in your head and not mine.

Nursery Rhymes

Old Mother Hubbard
Went to the cupboard
To fill her tea caddy with bags,
When she got there
The tea packet was bare
So poor little JJ had none.




















Aaaaaaaaggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhh

More Tea Talk

I could get really obsessed with the visitor stat counter thing. My latest fav thing is looking at the search words to see how surfers have found my blog.

After recounting the story a few weeks ago of the headless rabbit in Younger Niece’s wardrobe, I was amused horrified … it was interesting to see that a search for ‘headless rabbit, witchcraft’ had caused someone to stumble upon tea stains. I bet that was a disappointment to them. But really, who searches stuff like that?

Today on my search list was ‘pg tips bangkok where’ so I clicked on that search link and at page 23 of Google’s list of hits I still hadn’t found tea stains. Where was I? How many pages did they trawl through to find me?

Anyway, I’ve decided that it isn’t good enough: how can I call myself tea stains and barely a mention of PG Tips? So to answer anyone interested in the purchase of PG Tips in Bangkok …

You can buy them here in Central but I’ve only seen them in boxes of 40 (which might not last me much more than a week!) And they cost 16p a teabag and at that price I can’t afford my tea habit.

When visitors and guests come I ask them to bring as big a quantity as they can carry. Lovely Sister in law brought two GARGANTUAN catering bags which made me very happy … until I noticed they were … NOOOOOO … single cup strength … for wimps. For a while I used two teabags in one mug, until a friend declared my cups of tea ‘disgusting.’

Lovely Caroline sent me a box of teabags, but I was mortified by how much it costs to send a box of teabags to Bangkok so that’s not the way to keep up a supply without bankrupting friends and family.

I didn’t bring any back from my recent trip because my suitcase was full of books and ‘Soft and Gentle’ which is another story altogether, and now my rations are running low. I’m not sure that they will last until I leave for the UK in July so my dealer Husband has found a carrier coming in June. An email has been issued requesting and detailing the procurement of the correct teabags:

• PG Tips
• Not One Cups
• No leaves
• Pyramid bags
• No poncy tea claiming pretensions: just PG Tips

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