My Mum

Now it's my Mum's turn. I rather think that I maligned her in my post here. She doesn't tell me I should come home nor does she give me a hard time about it. She recognises that it's my life and I'm living it, but I know how much she misses me and wants us to come back to the UK.

My Mum:

• Is obsessed by Shakespeare. (And is a bit of a lovie; okay quite a lot of a lovie.)
  Applied, without her parent’s knowledge, by audition to RADA (Royal Academy of Dramatic Art) when she was a young. She was offered a place but because she didn’t get a scholarship and her parents weren’t interested she couldn’t go.
• Started Marden Theatre Group because there wasn’t a group, and she wanted to continue with her hobby of drama. She’s never viewed her hobby as amateur.
• Is passionate about costumes. She has an enormous theatrical wardrobe in the attic. She has an encyclopaedic knowledge of period costumes but can’t remember if she took her tablets that morning.
• Husband says that when he goes to their house she always asks him to move boxes, say from the attic to the dining room. Six months later she’ll ask him to take boxes somewhere else, maybe from the dining room to the attic. He has no idea if they are the same boxes or if anything has happened to them between his visits. They are nearly always full of costumes.
• Hates cooking.
• Is forever falling over the cats and dog, and shouting ‘Oh my God’ or ‘Jesus’ or ‘Bloody Hell’ in a completely over the top manner.
• Once wrote a history essay for me because I was overwhelmed with work due at school the next day. My teacher marked it in class and then called out loud: “Jenny! This is excellent; wonderful.” I expect she was bitterly disappointed by any future essay I handed in.
• Is the kindest, most generous person. Every week for months she drove a woman she knew to see her husband in a care home because the woman had no transport and the buses took all day. She waited and then brought the woman back again. She met another woman she knew in the village whose husband had weekly treatment at the hospital 10 miles away. She took them up to the hospital each time they needed to go for several months.
• She has several friends, on their own now, who are referred to as the Sunday lunch club. They come every week for Sunday lunch to my parents’ house.
• Has written/adapted several plays which she has produced and directed at a local men’s prison.
• Has written a play that Radio 4 rejected.
• Thinks technology is ridiculous. Thinks she has kept up with progress by learning to send faxes. Would rather use her old manual typewriter than the laptop my Dad and Brother bought her.

Habit or Tradition, I said.

Happy

Valentine's

Day

My Dad

Last week I said I would blog about my parents one at a time. Today is my Dad's turn.

My Dad:

• rarely swears, but when he does he runs together convoluted combinations of really atrocious expletives.


• brought my sister and me a cup of tea every school day morning to wake us up for school. It became a condition that the man I married would selflessly provide me with endless cups of tea. (I failed.)


• catches spiders in his hands. He shakes his hands gently to stop them from biting him. Eeeewugh. (Husband stamps on spiders since he’s a bit scared too – although less so since his six year old Son challenged him with: “Dad, if you hold the tarantula, so will I”.)


• is amazingly talented with his hands. For many years he’s made props for the local theatre group’s performances. So when I go home, this is the kind of thing I chance upon:

• Every year (bar one when he was ill) he has made a Christmas Creature for the children of the family. Until we had our own children this was my sister and I until we were around 30! Christmas creatures are made, Blue Peter style, from cardboard tubes, fizzy drink bottles and are decorated in the style of: aliens, cats, dogs, snowmen, dinosaurs, etc. They always have a hollow in their bodies which is filled with small toys and gifts. They are placed under the tree and given out with presents. Every year it’s a top secret what creature he’s made.

• (This Christmas Creature is Flicka, the dog. If you turn her round, you can open her bottom! and presents are hidden inside her hollow. It's quite scary how Dad has captured her neurotic expression so brilliantly. )

• It never mattered how many friends we invited, how late in the day, my parents always found enough food, and pulled up another chair. Our friends were always welcome.


• Has written his memoirs.


• He’s a fabulous cook. He’s always does Christmas meals and Sunday lunches but since he retired he has done nearly all the cooking.

Where do babies come from?

Lucy Diamond made me laugh last week with a story of her daughter’s bedtime delaying tactics. You know this question is coming; it’s inevitable but you’re not quite sure when or how it’s going to come and so you’re never quite prepared when it does.

I thought it was rather clever to ask this at bedtime because being responsible Mummies, we do want to get the answer correct. And Mummy (if she’s anything like me) is weak at bedtime and longing for wine. So Lucy fudged it.

This reminded me of my own spectacular fudging of the issue while dealing with the same situation when Son was three (he was somewhat precocious). Son’s question related to 101 Dalmations’ Pongo and Perdita.

Son: Where did Perdita’s puppies come from?
Me: From her tummy.
Son: How did they get there?
Me: Pongo put them there.
Son: *Confused* How?

Well, anyway, she says, fudging the issue again, I’m too embarrassed to continue with that story, because apparently you shouldn’t mention willies for some years yet, but no-one had told me that. Flash forward ten years to last Saturday when I took son shopping, and we were approached by this group of lovely Thais just outside MBK shopping mall:

If you filled out a piece of paper saying what you thought of sex education, they gave you a free gift. This is a good thing, I thought, Son is nearly fourteen, here’s a good introduction to talking about IT. I filled out a little heart shaped piece of paper and received my gift: hmmm, lots of stickers saying things about safe sex etc. This is a good thing, I reminded myself. Oooh, look in the gift bag, a heart shaped jelly sweet, and what’s that? Oh, a lolly pop and what’s … oh … that? Oh. It’s … a condom. Oh. This. Is. A. Good. Thing. We have to have these conversations.

And so what followed was a conversation in which Son told me stuff about ‘kids at school’ and asked questions and stuff, and really I found it’s much easier at this age. A bit more grown up and honest, and not a real cock up (sorry) if I mention willies.

Chuckling

I went shopping to MBK with Son yesterday.

Can you spot what made us chuckle?

Books, books and more books

Ooooh, I’ve been book shopping. I wiped out the knowledge of my towering ‘To Be Read’ pile at home and bought some more. (I was in Asia Books this time (not Kinokuniya) and they had an offer of ‘buy three get a fourth free’ – so really who could resist?)

I’ve bought:

My Favourite Wife by Tony Parsons
I bought this because it’s about an expat family in Shanghai. (Research, you see! Know your market: recognise your work in the context of the modern publishing industry… persuaded?) And anyway, I like his books … although I do get him terribly mixed up with Nick Hornby.

Gone With the Wind by Margaret Mitchell
I’m almost too ashamed to say out loud that I have never even seen the film. *flinches while everyone shouts in disbelief.* I know, I know, it’s shocking.

The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield
I first heard about this book from Liz Novel Racer Fenwick. And I’ve continued to be told what a good read it is. I didn’t bother to read the blurb and still have no idea what it’s about.

Marley & Me by John Grogan
What can I say about this? Animal stories aren’t really my thing but it does have a cute Labrador on the jacket, I grew up with yellow and black labs and I keep seeing it on library thing on the blogs. I read the blurb and thought it would make some nice light reading. I've just finished this; it made me laugh out loud.

Afterwards by Rachel Seiffert
I thought this was a wildcard until I read about the author inside the jacket, but that was after I got it home. I was attracted initially by the cover (YUP), read the blurb and committed. She was Booker shortlisted with her first novel The Dark Room and Granta have named her ‘Best of Young British Novelists.’ Not really a wildcard then.

Yes, I know I bought five when the offer was for three/four, but I chose Afterwards as a fourth and then when I decided on Marley and Me as well, I found I couldn’t put Afterwards back on the shelf… cos, well, they were restacking the shelves and there was no longer any space left, so I had to get that too. See?

Writers in Bangkok

I went to an organised lunch yesterday. (No comments about ‘ladies who lunch’ please!)

We had a speaker, Anette, come from the Bangkok Women’s Writers Group to promote their book ‘Bangkok Blondes’ which was published about two months ago. I knew her already from bookcrossing.

Most of the books written by farangs (westerners) published here in Bangkok are tales by men of men falling in love with bar girls or how they ended up in the Bangkok Hilton (prison). They don’t have much kudos. Some may be self published and most aren’t of a very high standard.

‘Bangkok Blondes’ is published by Bangkok Book House and according to local media is doing rather well (sorry, English understatement happening there) It’s doing very well. The blurb says: “Very few books on Thailand are written by women. Bangkok Blondes is one of the first. It reflects the lives of creative women who live and write in Thailand – *The Bangkok Women’s Writers Group.”

It also says “The BWWG* … has been meeting in bars, coffee shops and shopping malls twice monthly since 2000…”

So why have I never told you all about it? Well, I’ve been. I went about 18 months, maybe two years ago and I went two or three times. The reason I gave, when asked why I didn’t continue to go, was because I didn’t like it.

I think I felt a fraud. I didn’t feel like a writer … and I do … a bit … now. Back then, the idea of showing anyone anything I’d written appalled me. But I’ve done that now and while it's scary, so far no-one’s said ‘blimey JJ, you’re a crap writer.’

I’ve been toying about going back and so today I asked Anette to put me on the mailing list again. I will report back how I got on. It would be great to meet other writers in Bangkok, now that I feel a bit more qualified.