November Rain

First…the coat in all its glory!

I have hardly had it off, for the weather has been crisp and cold and it’s been perfect. I just love it. I wore it to see the literary agent who is looking at ‘the trapeze’, I left her with ‘the highland games’ and she wants to read the Banyan Tree…she says she wants to hear my ‘voice’ and it’s weird because in each book I sound completely different. I am just a confused person trying to get out. I think she was dazzled by my coat though.

My basal cell carcinoma was chopped out, by a jolly doctor with limited sewing skills….the plastic guy who did my face did 12 tiny stitches that left an almost invisible scar…this guy did 4 whoppers in blue thread. Hmmm. He also zapped another ‘old friend’ with just a quick slice…I nearly had a canary…it wasn’t even life threatening (as indeed the bcc isn’t either)…but a warning before he cuts is always good I would have thought!

Final humiliation this week was kneeling on a massage table in an outsize man’s running shorts, which reached nearly to my calves. I was being taught some mighty exercises to help my absentee core muscles to perform, so that they can begin supporting my spine, with all the dodgy discs. I see King Abdulla of Saudi Arabia is suffering a similar affliction. I leave all my vanity and self esteem on the dreich pavement, as I go in to meet my trendy young and very attractive physio. He exudes ripples of exuberance and health, as though he had just attacked the summit of Everest. Talking of which, I am very proud of Mike and Tod who have just had a brilliant expedition to the said mountain…big wows.

Friday night began as any other…full tummy and TV, curtains drawn, soft lights and the ‘channel changer’ at hand. Imagine the surprise to find Leonard Cohen in concert for nearly three hours. Unseen footage, gleaned from 4,000 cuts from his tour in 1971-2 and then followed with his world tour in 2009…I was in heaven…and I hummed to Suzanne, and remembered the angst of those growing up years with the Songs of Love and Hate. Seeing him now, aged 76, so classy, with trilby and suit and no tie, his back up singers in sedate waist coats and not a sequin in sight…his music has touched us all, his words echo many of our hopes and fears and I was so sad, seeing his progression to an ‘old’ guy yet I felt so proud of him. Yesterday I felt flat, maybe all those ‘Birds on a Wire’ or ‘Sisters of Mercy’ ‘So long, Marianne’ and the ‘Chelsea Hotel’ got to me…and the rain soaked my duffle coat and I felt lost in a world of  yesteryear. Sniff.

Like a bird on the wire
Like a drunk in a midnight choir
I have tried in my way to be free

BUT we have a royal wedding to lift us all! Oh the joys of it all, and our news is full of rings and dresses and venues. So sad to see the memorabilia from previous occasions…Fergie and Andrew’s thimbles are selling on ebay for 25p. WHO would buy them? Actually I find sewing with a thimble very constraining, not to mention annoying.

Bought the most beautiful sofa yesterday from an antique shop…its Victorian, and recently been refurbished, it even smells new with new feathers and horse hair or whatever (can’t imagine how they get a lot of hair from a horse…would it be the tail? It must need a lot of tails.)  It sat in all its blue glory amidst gilt mirrors and ancient clippers and schooners and a giant aeroplane propeller…the owners have their own passions it would seem. Well it’s to arrive on Monday evening, and I am very excited about that….I am now officially a BLUE person…I am going through my blue period, (as Jilly Cooper once stated. HA HA!)

Just a final thank you to daughter, Natasha.I found two of her pastel studies of apes that she did once upon a time. I popped them into frames…AWESOME!  Much more value than Fergie’s thimble I would say!

Now I think I will go and listen to ‘I’m your man’.

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Remembrance Sunday

Sotto voce means intentionally lowering one’s voice for emphasis. The speaker gives the impression of uttering involuntarily a truth which may surprise, I love it…and have visions of various comics dressed in women’s clothing, mouthing words and rolling their eyes when bad mouthing a friend or referring to the gynaecologist.

It was not thus with John and I. We nearly came to blows as I lowered my tones and whispered some observation to him on the escalator in Frasers. I was referring to the nearly naked models strategically placed at the top of each floor obviously educating the public and granny generation how to wear itsy bitsy g-strings. He replied in a big loud voice, ‘how do you expect me to hear what you say if you whisper like that?’ the woman ahead of me turned around and looked at me very accusingly…I was mortified, and then to make things worse I was trapped by an old lady with a zimmer and John was trying to make me overtake her…that was when I lost it…and forgot all about sotto voce, and said VERY loudly, ‘what do you expect me to do…mow her down?’

Time for lunch.

Edinburgh on Saturday afternoon is vile…all the Fifers come marching over the bridge and all the folk from outlying fields and villages come and hog the pavements, the whole thing is a nightmare. We did persevere as we have to buy stuff to ‘dress’ the two bedrooms in the flat we are trying to sell. We successfully bought duvets and what not, nearly killing the tiny lady in charge of bed linen. She was only a little over a metre in height. Imagine the shame I felt when I pulled out a valence and the whole collection rained down on her head.

Time to move on.

Fell madly in love with a red duffle coat. So beautifully cut and cosy and so perfect. Sigh.

We moved on.

Today it is raining, and it is poppy day. I was chopping onions whilst listening to the radio and I’m not sure if it was the onions or the poem that made me cry. It was read in between verses of ‘Abide with me’. The poem is called Reconciliation by Siegfried Sassoon, and written here in Edinburgh in November 1918.

 

When you are standing at your hero’s grave,             
Or near some homeless village where he died,
Remember, through your heart’s rekindling pride,
The German soldiers who were loyal and brave.

Men fought like brutes; and hideous things were done;
And you have nourished hatred harsh and blind.
But in that Golgotha perhaps you’ll find
The mothers of the men who killed your son.  

And finally a thought to Burma, and the lady who represents so much to those people. She is free at last, and as I watched her battle to escape the crowds threatening to swamp her, I remembered our trip there a few years ago.

The hushed whispers in sotto voce by tour guides afraid to voice their political views, the wonderful friendliness of people we met, and Mr Diamond who perhaps changed our lives forever.

He brought it home to us in a dingy restaurant in Mandalay, that no matter how many people you may love in the world, or what may be important in another place, all that matters is NOW. You must live for now, forget the past and the future, treasure the life and the one you are with.

I think I should be treasured…with a lovely red duffle coat!

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An Arty weekend

“The Autumn leaves pass by my window…the autumn leaves of red and gold”… I so love that song; I went to Yves Montand’s funeral in Paris, at Pere La Chaise cemetery along with Catherine Deneuve and Gerard Depardieu. That is all very well, but yesterday I spent all morning sweeping like a dervish, and had the front and back all spick and span, and then the big winds and rain that were forecast came in the night and now….I am MAD…it’s just all set to try me.

John and I went for a lovely walk along the Water of Leith on Saturday, ooohing and aaahing at the sunshine through the trees,

and the water and ducks and how Pre-Raphaelite everything looked, then suddenly we saw the most frightening tableau…it was as though Arcimboldo was alive and well and not the revered memory from 16th Century Italy. Someone had

made life size models out of branches and leaves and they were just so life-like it was quite scary…almost as scary as the tree that had decided to ‘eat’ the wire fencing. 

Enjoyed a bacon roll…sitting outside on the pavement in Stockbridge…hard to believe it was November. We later went off to see an Art Exhibition in aid of the Macmillan nurses…the pictures were all very beautiful, and the wild windy beaches, croft houses and desolate broken down walls were much in evidence…but on the way we had called in to  a Chinese shop looking for a blue and white vase to lodge some sunflowers to ‘go’ with the Monet painting…when we saw a Vietnamese painting, that we had so admired in Hanoi, by an artist who specialised in painting lollipop style trees in bright primary colours…so guess what we bought…Ha! 

Our front room is a glory of bright happy things, must reflect my mood. Once, about 10 years ago a friend visited me and looked around my sombre Scots Pines in muted greens and smudgy drawings of Pictish brochs that I so admired and said, ‘Gosh, Gael, I didn’t know you were so unhappy!’

So…here we are in rainy Edinburgh, with more wild winds to come, no job, a flat that won’t sell, and yet I feel optimistic…even though I have another stupid basal cell carcinoma on my clavicle and have to see about that tonight, and 4 more slipped discs (thanks to the MRI in Doha) and have to go back to Steven, the physiotherapist…Oh the joys of Monday Monday!

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Edinburgh

Apart from causing a scene at security in London…when  I saw this case creating quite a stir at the x ray machine and realising it was John’s, and then having to wait for 10 precious minutes whilst it was unpacked and the man started to laugh (not John) at the pile of valuables placed in a line in  front of him…it was like a scene from Bruce Forsythe’s Generation Game….a telephone, diving goggles, knife sharpener, DVD machine, computer, I pod and all its cables, laundry whitening soap to name the few I can remember…He’d never seen such an eclectic collection…it all had to go and get bomb clearance and then at last we were on our way. The night before was manic trying to pack all our stuff and suddenly realise you still might need the above offending articles, hence they were all squashed in….Oh the joys.

Beautiful arriving into Scotland yesterday…sun, autumn trees in all their glory and the fields were all so GREEN. Chilly but still. Today  I woke to  the sound of raindrops on my window, still lovely when you don’t have to go out…just yet.

Instead I will look at the new Monet painting I bought in the summer at the exhibition on French painters and their gardens.

so nice…and goes so well with the blue and white persian rug.

For christmas I will revert to the red chinese one and the red and gold stuff, as it will feel ‘warmer’ but enough enough…It’s good to be home.

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Farewell to Doha

Final day, and have spent hours putting photos on this blog…struck me that in all the ‘posts’ I hardly mentioned school or teaching. So weird as it dominated all my thoughts and actions from August last year through till July. All the various topics and songs and stories that so absorbed me and my class during that time, I must have kept compartmentalised, or else I realised that what was so thrilling and fascinating for us, might not have the same appeal to the world in general!    Please note the Granny Annabelle character…no wonder I didn’t talk about it much! Seemed like a good idea at the time.  

This one on my left was the dummy, when I dressed up, the kids thought she’d come to life…hmmm

Now I have 2 MRI’s to get this afternoon…neck and shoulder and then John and I are off, like two turtles with all our wordly belongings in two suitcases and two VERY heavy pieces of hand luggage! Thanks to Sue for the farewell gin yesterday afternoon..and thanks to so many wonderful people we were lucky enough to meet who have made out stay here so good. Who knows where we will end up!

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Covering the tracks

Bought the newspaper yesterday  and predictably there was a small piece on the front page quashing any rumours about cheetahs or tigers. To quote, “It’s all rumour, so one must not lend an ear to it….some of the complaints were malicious and necessary action has been taken against them.” Apparently “there is nothing to worry about as the security authorities are very much keen to guarantee security and peace in society.” It went on to say “efforts are on to find out how the talk of a cheetah being sighted began in the first place” Hmmmmm. I am more concerned about how many homes are housing these exotic pets. But still, I must remember we are just expats in bubbles, and must not question or ‘see’ anything.

Turned the page and was delighted to see the film that we saw at the film festival, won the best in the show. Good!

Today I am off to the souq to buy a sphere made of stone, all hollowed out and carved intricately. My massage teacher had one, and I so coveted it. Then home to eat up the cupboards…it is such a mighty mission…yesterday I had caviar on toast, covered with tinned tomato and black pepper. Surprisingly it was very delectable. Such fine dining!

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Tiger Tale

I got an email from a friend, working in Qatar Academy, in the mighty Education City (the ‘baby’ of Sheikha Moza) and read with alarm  that their compound was being closed and a helicopter was on the way as a tiger was on the loose. I wrote back, assuming there had been a break out from the Zoo. She replied

“No, it wasn’t from the zoo. It really was a pet – apparently. One of the teachers said that when the tiger became public knowledge, there were kids showing photos of their pet tigers, lions and cheetahs in the LOUNGE rooms at home. Apparently, if you are there at the right time on Saturday morning, you can catch sight of a Landcruiser moseying along the Corniche – with a cheetah checking out the scenery from the comfort of its bucket seat! Last year, the primary Princpal had to ask a guy who was exercising his cheetah on the school oval to put it back in the car so the kids could finish their soccer match!!
At first, I thought the kids were making these stories up about their pet African animals – but no. They’re not, sadly. One kid got a dolphin for his birthday – in the pool! The parents were quite surprised when it died.
It’s a mad place. In June, there was a huge shipment of ivory detected in Thailand – it had come from Doha.”

Yesterday we went for a fare well trip to our beach…so sad, and we swam and floated (effortlessly) and when we left, we left our Russian fishing chairs, bought on a whim, after a drunken lunch in Kiev. They have served us well. I took a photo of them, sitting forlornly on the skyline…just hope that no one thinks we swam away to sea on a joint suicide mission!

The flat is starting to look empty, and I am wondering how to eat the contents of the cupboard…only 3 more dinners. Tonight we are having fresh lobster tails and prawn and pomelo salad. But what to do with the kilo of palm sugar I bought…Oh well. By the way I added a couple of photos that I managed to take of the art exhibition last week, of the little girl born in a Polish concentration camp.

More later.

Went to see the amazing film,(even walked on the red carpet)

The First Grader…you MUST try and see it…a true story of a Mau Mau man, aged 84 who went back to school. True story and just beautiful and inspirational. Ended the day at Villagio with friends Kay and Colin and Loretta…nice to meet up…we were last altogether in Hanoi.

I photographed my embroidery

…and packed it up…but before I go, just want to share the most beautiful sunset taken from the Zig Zag tower.

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An arty week

Had such a funny dream…I was auditioning for a part in a musical and the Queen was my accompanist. We were such a team, she plonking away and me trilling out ‘by the bonny bonny banks of Loch Lomond’. It was such an anti climax waking up.

It must have been the harbinger of what was to come…for we’ve had such a cultured week, and it’s not over yet. Doha is having a huge Film Festival, starting tomorrow, with red carpets and what not, and we are all being accosted with fliers and reviews….John and I are going to see The First Grader, in the Open Air Theatre on Saturday, down in the Cultural village. It’s about a Mau Mau rebel enrolling in a local Kenyan school and learning to read and write.   We are going with my new friend, Helen, a very enterprising Australian lady who has just arrived in Doha, and is very enthusiastic about everything, and gads about in taxis then can’t get back, and has started using the busses, which only really cater for the Indian and Sri Lankan workers…she is made of stern stuff, not like most of the women, ensconced in their mighty land cruisers, pagero’s and jeeps.

After our sojourn to the beach on Friday we decided to go to visit this new cultural village which is such a beautiful tribute to the various architects…there’s a mosque, an opera house, cinemas, galleries, a beach, a promenade, various restaurants and so on, and the car parks are lit by posts sporting little lamp shades. Very nice.

 I photographed John by the white dove cote…I was enthusing about it, until he suggested they might be breeding them as fodder for the falcons. Hmmm. The main symbol of this Music City, is a GIANT falcon hood. Ominous for the white pigeons (or doves…can’t tell the difference…presumably Noah could.)

Anyway…found the gallery and was so impressed with the pictures. The exhibition was called ‘In our time’, and the photographs are by Magnum photographers from 1936-1987. Most disturbing picture was of a little girl in a mental institution after the war. She had been born in a concentration camp and was asked to draw a house. The photo is of her face, with the obligatory ribbon at the side of the severely parted hair, and the huge sad eyes. The picture she drew was of black lines…the barbed wire.

I loved the picture of Ghandi’s funeral. Millions of people and about a dozen all hanging on a telegraph pole.(sorry about the flash…it was from my mobile camera).

We went to see the Doha Players’production of Miss Saigon. The show was fantastic and the lead singer was really something. I had a quiet giggle, however at a very tall thin lady that took all her various ‘parts’ so seriously. She drew all eyes to her, yet she never had a proper word to say throughout, but she did so much ‘acting’…I was exhausted watching her. Even as a soldier she goose stepped higher than the rest, made the lads at the back look a right shuffley lot. Felt quite nostalgic for Vietnam, and the kids in their ao dais made me think of UNIS on International day. Sniff. I am becoming a lady with a Past. HA HA.

Did my final massage class, and have the Certificate to prove it. We had to perform an hours massage on our partner, and apart from referring to the notes, and the odd crinkle of paper, it went well. She actually nodded off at one point, so that was good. (I think). (i.e. Joanne, my ‘client’ not the examiner.) Now I shall try and buy a proper bed and spare the back.

Also went to my last cooking class…Italian. Felt so sorry for the teacher, as she was in full flow, with her hand made ravioli, her chicken and pesto fettucine and so on and so forth and the power went off. Oh dearie me. Never mind…we got the picture.

Makes me remember a fantastic dinner party we went to in Hanoi…Loretta had set up about 5 little mini hotplates around her house, and beside them was a recipe and ingredients…then we were all paired up with someone we didn’t know, and had to cook. (John and his partner had to make tiramisu…they didn’t put the top on the blender and it went all over the walls.) Then we ate and had to give a talk.  She was inspired after spending part of her summer in Sicily at a cooking course. I would so like to do that. (Go to Sicily and eat).

Our life is coming to an end here in Doha…2 years are up, and we leave next Tuesday. So John and I went for a walk by the Marina last night, and ended up in the Admiral’s Club where we sat on the decking and drank margaritas. The night was balmy and perfect and the moon was orange.

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Crowns in the making

Woke up in a cloud this morning. The view from the 33rd floor of the Zig Zag was Zero. It was almost celestial. I half expected to see an angel or two plod pass the window.

Busy week, ‘back’ issues are resolving, no need for la la drugs, went to a Thai cooking class, and the massage course is nearing its end. Next week is the exam, where we have to do a massage lasting for an hour on our partner. Joanne (my physiotherapist partner) thinks I have another disc issue in my neck, which would explain so much…numbness and tingling in arm and so on…All I can say is wheel me off to the glue factory.

Birthday yesterday was spent getting drilled at the dentist. Somehow the whole crowning procedure sounded so much more exotic when explained in his sexy French accent. It was the aftermath that was a bit dire, when I stumbled out with a numb nose and a splitting headache!!

Lovely later, as Gerry rang from Cyprus…I could hear the waves tickling her toes. She sounded as clear as a bell and we talked for ages.

This Friday we went to the beach as usual, and the whole experience was lit up by the cabaret beside us. A Singaporean family arrived…mum, dad, two big-ish boys and a little girl of about 4, who thought it appropriate to come in her pyjamas. Dad spent the next hour with a hammer trying to put up a tent…he fussed and wore away the sand back and forth to his car for more inspiration. Little girl changed into yellow swimsuit and jumped over each wave as it sploshed up. Her brothers brought out ‘the barbecue’ which they proceeded to light. They shielded the flames with an umbrella; the mother sat shrouded in two sarongs and yelled orders to everyone.

John and I feigned interest in our paper backs, but couldn’t help watching the saga.

Suddenly, the hammer was put away, the tent rolled up. The barbecue doused with sand, the food hamper returned without anything being eaten or drunk, and everyone was loaded into the car. It would seem the only person who had fun was the little jumper at the edge of the ocean….I was just exhausted watching them.

Today John has gone off to meet Mike. Hopefully by this evening we will know whether we are staying or going.

If we are staying I wouldn’t mind learning  more about massage…like aromatherapy. Scents can relay so many messages and aids deep healing…apparently. I was hearing that rose is used for deep grief. Interesting…but such a beautiful flower, how could it not be included in a healing programme?

Temperature is dropping, the marble floors are chilly under foot, duvet is back on the bed…but still the days are hot hot hot. It is so pleasant to walk at night, round by the marina, and the Ritz Carlton, and the birds are just a riot at that time of night. Mostly mynas, bulbuls and herons, but the other night we did see a hoopoe if that is how you spell it. First time for me, it was so cool with its crazy crown.

Talking of which, I might go and look at my temporary one, and hope mr sexy dentist is hard at work with my good and proper one.

PS the eye brows are fading, thank the good lord.

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Eye brows

 Joan Crawford Photo

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