Friday Photo

Eewgh.

Cats

Talli said in my comments yesterday ‘When in trouble... turn to cats’ and I think she’s right and we are in proper trouble here. Cats are cool.  These have been mine:

Loppy Lugs was my first cat when I was around seven. My sister got Loppy’s sister, Squeaker. Loppy was an absolute bitch of a cat while Squeaker was a dreamy pet, allowing my sister to dress her up and push her around in a pram. Loppy Lugs never wanted me anywhere near her and got stroppier as she got older.

We always had family cats during the next part of my life: Polly, Jaffa, Weed, Frista, HP and Ketchup are the ones I can remember.

Husband and I got our first house and not quite ready to commit to children we got a couple of cats we called Snipe and Wigeon. Within a week or so of getting them, Wigeon was diagnosed with cat flu; the vet didn’t sound very optimistic but my mum told me that when they die of feline flu, it’s usually dehydration so I stayed up with a pipette force feeding him liquids for three nights. I had a special love for Wiggie Woo. He loved us back in that special cat way – cursorily - but he smiled when he loved us. I couldn't find a picture of him smiling though.

Snipe loved me in desperate and needy way, which, to my shame, meant I sometimes found him irritating. He thought I was his mummy and nobody else would do. He wanted to sit on me ALL the time. I think I broke his heart when I had a baby. Over the following months, other people would do… because I wasn’t available.

Then we were given a cat for a wedding present by our best man. (Don’t ever do this!) We renamed him Devil or Devvy so we didn’t upset the neighbours. He had character… all the while he was opening your arteries. He was stroppy, arrogant and selfish; and a real Six Dinner Sid. Despite having had him neutered he continued to provide a friendly service to the local female cat population. I took him to the vets about this and his aggression problems.  The vet thought Devil might have had an undescended testicle and tried to examine him. Devil didn’t much like that and while the vet mopped up his own blood he told me he’d have to do the procedure under a general anaesthetic.  When we moved I put a notice up explaining he was our cat, but that I understood he was living in various other homes. I wanted people to know that he would leave with us, unless they wanted to offer him a permanent home. I got a phone call from a neighbour begging me not to leave him in the neighbourhood.

Finally we got Benny and TC. It was awful when we moved to Bangkok but luckily they were offered a home with Sister in law so we can keep in touch with them. (They write great letters.) If we'd known how long we'd be living in Bangkok, we would probably have got a couple of cats from the Soi Cat and Dog Rescue... but because our contract has been renewed year by year we haven't.

I've never lived for such a long period without cats in my life.

La la la la.

I had some of you in fear for my mental health yesterday – quite rightly too.

The British Embassy has upgraded their travel advice to UK citizens and are suggesting that no one come to any part of Thailand now and if we are already in Thailand, we should "consider whether it is essential ... to travel within the city of Bangkok." Brilliant.

So my cheery, possibly manic, posts are the equivalent to sticking my fingers in my ears and singing, LA LA LA LA.

Here’s a bonkers YouTube to allay your fears about my sanity. I believe it's true.

My cup runneth over

I can ignore the rising tension in Bangkok. I can discount the vast majority of rumours I'm hearing and I can even overlook that the Army is constructing barbed wire at my local sky train station.  

Because my cup runneth over.

Not only did I do some boxing in the gym this morning, which I truly enjoyed (as opposed to tolerated because it’s a means to and end) and I'm still buzzing with those endorphins but I also received a parcel in the post today... and now... 

I have treasury tags.

Sigh 

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.

Excitement not needed

First I want to apologise for the obscure Friday photo… It wasn’t really cryptic, I’d labeled it ‘this is how I feel today’ but I realize it wasn’t really clear to everyone.

Maybe it shouldn’t be obvious. You don’t come here to hear my woes do you? I was sad about the trouble on our streets again the previous night. I worry about the children going to school about Husband being safe because he works in the business district. And, call me shallow, but I want to go to my usual Starbucks in Siam Paragon mall to write.

I’d sat up on Thursday night, listening to helicopters whirring around outside while glued to Twitter. Then I went and watched the news (which was in Thai, obviously) and all I could understand were isolated words – streets, hospitals and so on. Not that it mattered: the visuals were all that were needed.

Then it didn’t kick off again on Friday night, or Saturday night and I struggled to piece together what was going on. I stopped obsessing about what was happening. I even started to relax a little.

Following breakfast this morning I went off to do some food shopping. As the taxi turned out of our soi (road) thirty or so motorbikes whizzed past us. Each one carried two soldiers, each with BIG GUNS.

Uh oh, I thought.

Stretched between Sukhumvit soi 27 – 31 were lots of soldiers. My taxi driver managed to tell me that the mob (his word) had come to the PM’s house, thinking he was there. (He wasn’t.) Needless to say, I didn't hang about. The rubbish pictures were taken from the taxi.

PS Picture bottom right: does anyone else think there's a bit of Dad's Army going on here?

A quick post

Just a quickie today because I’ve been out all day shopping at BIG & BIH and everything hurts from hours of walking.

When Daughter got home today, she asked Husband: “Dad, do you know where to get a cheap tie made?”

Think about it a minute... Do I need to explain it?

Husband heard: “Dad, do you know where to get a cheap Thai maid?”

Should I be worried?

Go here to see Daughter’s funny letter to a teacher at school.