My posts on Friday and Saturday came courtesy of Blogger scheduling. What was really happening was that the children and I were off, straight from school, to Singapore for Daughter’s gymnastic competition. Husband has been away for almost a week - partly on a corporate jolly (Thailand Open) and partly on a personally jolly (to take his Padi Advanced Scuba diving course.)
Today, we are back to normal. Children are in school and I am back at work on the novel: next stop 50,000. I have a quiet week and I am a bit behind so my head is down, although I have just put the wordmeter up by a further thousand. Ya hoo.
The apartment is strewn with clothes from the mountains of washing that comes from travelling. Clothes are hanging up to dry in every available space. It’s like having lots of very quiet people hanging around, waiting for a party to start. Husband’s wet suit is hanging up in the bath room, and every time I go in there, I think the Milk Tray man has broken in to the apartment. I consider wrestling the chocolate from him before giving him a good shove off the balcony and then I realise it’s just the suit.
I am struggling a bit with Owen Meany. It’s beautiful and the characterisation is wonderful … but I’m waiting for something to grip me and make me desperate to read on. I reckon I’m not quite a third of the way through. I take it you all think I should persevere?
Showing posts with label Milk Tray Man. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Milk Tray Man. Show all posts
Monday, March 09, 2009
Tuesday, December 02, 2008
This one's for Husband
Regular readers know that Husband had a horrible time getting home from India last week.
We were lucky that he wasn’t in Mumbai. But terror, being what it is, meant that I was worried sick especially as I knew that he couldn’t get back into Thailand because of the anti government demonstrations taking place in both Bangkok airports, Suvarnabhumi and Don Mueang. With these two airports closed, the regional airports were under enormous strain to try and deal with everyone diverting to them.
In order to get out of India, he left Bangalore on Thursday night, not for Thailand as planned but for Singapore. Once there, a complicated plan to return to Thai soil was sketched out. ‘While you’re in Singapore,’ I said, ‘if you can get to Takashimaya, please would you swing past that nice stationery store? I’d like an orange box folder please.’ OMG. Do you remember the post about the divine Bookbinders Design shop? Oh dear, I salivate, dribble…
So lovely, patient readers, this post is for Husband, who thought that ‘Update: arrived home 7.30pm’ was an insufficient fanfare for his eventual homecoming. I present to you, my very own ‘Milk Tray Man.’ This is what I imagine his trip home, accompanied by my orange box file, was really like:
We were lucky that he wasn’t in Mumbai. But terror, being what it is, meant that I was worried sick especially as I knew that he couldn’t get back into Thailand because of the anti government demonstrations taking place in both Bangkok airports, Suvarnabhumi and Don Mueang. With these two airports closed, the regional airports were under enormous strain to try and deal with everyone diverting to them.
In order to get out of India, he left Bangalore on Thursday night, not for Thailand as planned but for Singapore. Once there, a complicated plan to return to Thai soil was sketched out. ‘While you’re in Singapore,’ I said, ‘if you can get to Takashimaya, please would you swing past that nice stationery store? I’d like an orange box folder please.’ OMG. Do you remember the post about the divine Bookbinders Design shop? Oh dear, I salivate, dribble…
So lovely, patient readers, this post is for Husband, who thought that ‘Update: arrived home 7.30pm’ was an insufficient fanfare for his eventual homecoming. I present to you, my very own ‘Milk Tray Man.’ This is what I imagine his trip home, accompanied by my orange box file, was really like:
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