The Pineapple Tart

New Year Resolution

2012-01-09T01:20:00.001-08:00

So if you don't hear from me again... You can consider our account closed.

Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother

2011-12-28T04:43:00.000-08:00

The most hysterical part of this tongue-in-cheek memoir of extreme parenting is when Amy Chua discovers the existence of Dog IQ rankings. Amy feels 'nauseated' when she discovers family pet Coco, a cute Samoyed, who attends Doggy Kindergarten classes - ranks only 33rd for breed intelligence ...
Amy refuses to believe Coco might just be an average dog - not fit to be part of a dog sniffing team - so she scours the internet till she finds some research which states 'the Samoyed surpasses other breeds in determination, focus and endurance...'
She writes: 'My spirits soared. For me, this was the perfect combination of qualities. If the only issue was a stubborn, disobedient streak, that was nothing I couldn't handle.'
A couple of nights later she's having yet another row with husband Jed who thinks she's pushing their two daughters too hard - the Chinese parenting method insists on hours of music each day, no sleepovers, no playdates, no TV, straight A grades - the house is full of tension, there is no breathing space...
And Amy flashes back at him: "What dreams do you have for Sophia or for Lulu? Do you ever think about that? What are you dreams for Coco?"

BC:AD

2011-12-26T07:16:00.000-08:00

This was the moment when Before
turned into After, and the future's
Uninvented timekeepers presented arms.

This was the moment when nothing
Happened. Only a dull peace
Sprawled boringly over the earth.

This was the moment when even energetic Romans
Could find nothing better to do
Than counting heads in remote provinces.

And this was the moment
When a few farm workers and three
Members of an obscure Persian sect

Walked haphazard by starlight straight
Into the kingdom of heaven.

U.A. Fanthorpe

Peace On Earth

2011-12-26T01:12:00.000-08:00

Who could ever have guessed that Monopoly - a game of ruthless property grabbing - would bring peace to the Tinsley household at Christmas? Once Nick established the ground rules (backstab and cheat all you like but no biting or kicking your siblings) the children played without rowing for hours - while I peeled Brussel Sprouts.

Badminton

2011-12-22T03:18:00.000-08:00

Since when did badminton become a risk sport? When I returned from the grocery shopping the kids were playing together; three of the four had riding hats on and the fourth had a sulky expression.
"What happened?"
They spoke up in unison. They said: "Florence attacks us when she misses the shuttlecock."

Charlotte's Web

2011-12-19T07:04:00.000-08:00

It doesn't surprise me that Charlotte's Web is almost 60 years old. A children's book that deals with the dark side of farming wouldn't get past most editors now-a-days. We live in an urban world now - there are a dozen degrees of separation between fluffy farm animals and prepackaged meat.
And yet this story of a runt who is rescued from slaughter by a bloodthirsty spider who weaves 'some pig' in her web to save him - then dies after hatching her egg sac -is a literary classic. It has sold 45 million copies and been translated into 23 languages.
How reassuring to realise that innocent children can unquestioningly accept the life cycle of birth, reproduction and death - it's adults who have problems with it

The Apple and the Tree

2011-12-15T00:55:00.000-08:00

Tonight was the School Winter Concert - it's always fab and so terrifically popular the parents of performers are allowed two tickets only.
No tickets came home with Beatrice (our singer) so I went into the school to investigate.
The choir mistress handed me a large biscuit tin. "All the consent forms are in there. Kids who brought back consent forms got tickets."
Well, in truth I couldn't remember if I'd signed a consent form or not. I have forms stuck under my nose every day - "Sign that Mummy" - and I sign.
Humbly I said: "Please may I sign a form now?"
She shook her head. "Too late. All the tickets have been allocated."
I tried not bluster. I said: "It doesn't matter if I don't have a seat. Please may I stand at the back?"
"Security have been told to turn away those who don't have a ticket."
The picture became a bit clearer. "You expect me to drop Beatrice off, then sit in the car and wait for her?"
After school I searched Beatrice's schoolbag. The consent form was there. She'd forgotten to hand it in.
I said: "Luvvie, there's no place in the school choir for the vague!"
She looked confused. She said: "I thought the choir was for singing?"

Randy Old Man

2011-12-08T08:17:00.000-08:00

Sahara's at least 21 - in horse years that makes him a very old man. He suffers the aches and pains of old age: his back legs are stiff, he can't bend his neck to the left without groaning, he needs built up shoes to keep standing.
For a month we've been gently stretching and flexing - already he's working a beautiful outline; he floats over the ground at a trot...
Last night, for a brief crazy moment, he forgot he was an old man - he fancied a night with the girls. He jumped the post and rails fence that separates the geldings' paddock from the mares...
Perhaps I should say that he tried to jump it...
This morning the grooms found him straddled - hindlegs with the geldings, forelegs with the mares, and his abdomen horribly bruised where the pole had cut into it till he was rescued.
"Silly old fellow," I told him.
He rubbed his head ruefully against me. He knows he's been rather silly. But there's a gleam in his eye which suggests that he might just try it again.

Middle Age Spread #2

2011-11-28T23:25:00.000-08:00

For seventeen years since we met, Nick has lusted after my body - my shoulders, my legs, my symmetrical eyebrows -
"You're such a builder," I told him. "Why can't you love me for my beautiful mind?"
Be careful of what you wish for....
Since the onset of middle age spread (and it's NOT my imagination) I have noticed a subtle shift in the content of Nick's compliments. Finally he has started to love me for my mind.
And I don't mind telling you I don't like it at all.

A Sara Crewe Moment

2011-11-23T07:09:00.000-08:00

My favourite part of A Little Princess is when Sara Crewe, stripped of her fabulous riches and made to work as a servant, meets a street urchin less well off than herself. And even though Sara is hungry she gives her a roll of warm bread to eat.
At Pony Club last week Octavia and Alice fell off when their bold ponies bolted. This week only Octavia turned up in time for their lesson. I gave her a very safe pony - to help her regain her confidence. When Alice finally arrived, only Coco, the bolter was left to ride.
Octavia spoke up and said: "Give Alice my pony. She's more frightened than me. I'm frightened too but I will ride Coco."
When Coco bolted this week, the little Princess kept her seat.

Groundhog Day

2011-11-22T14:47:00.000-08:00

Teaching pony club was always a challenge but now it's an impossible challenge. Because tonight I realised I'm repeating myself and that's always fatal with me. Tonight I looked at the nervous wee faces of the children, and the expectant faces of their parents and the stoic faces of the ponies and I thought "Groundhog Day Help!!"
Last year when I started to teach there were also nervous wee children and expectant parents and stoic ponies, but then I was fresh to the challenge. I encouraged the children, impressed the parents, and loved and petted the ponies.
But I'm not able to do it again.

Sleep Paralysis

2011-11-21T03:54:00.000-08:00

Last night as I slept, a tall heavy man, dressed in black, with a knife in his hand pulled open the windows and entered our bedroom. He stood silhouetted against the street light. I needed to scream - because I was frightened and I wanted to frighten him off. But my screams were caught in my throat. I tried and tried to make noise and eventually I woke myself up. And realised it was a dream.
It is said (and I quote)'Sleep Paralysis is possibly a hereditary disorder in which one experiences very frightening seconds or minutes of total body paralysis with little respiration and eye movements. The victim in this state feels awake, but cannot move or speak. In addition to the immobility, common symptoms include feeling choked or suffocated, hearing strange noises like footsteps and voices, seeing beings or dark shadows, and feeling an existance of someone in the room. Although these symptoms often direct the victims to believe in ghosts, mistransmission of neural signals in the brain causes Sleep Paralysis. When a person sleeps, his brain sends signals to inhibit any muscle contraction. If he comes into consciousness before the brain sends signals to activate muscle contraction, he cannot move his body, and consequently, become "paralyzed".
It is said drinking wine before bed doesn't help. It's worse when you're tired and stressed.
It is said sleep paralysis can't kill you.
That's good to know.

There Was A Little Girl

2011-11-17T00:43:00.000-08:00

THERE WAS A LITTLE GIRL
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
There was a little girl,
Who had a little curl,
Right in the middle of her forehead.
When she was good,
She was very, very good,
But when she was bad, she was horrid.

I know this little girl. She lives in my house. Sweetest child in the world on her good days, but anaemic and easily tired and by the end of the school week, she's a venomous demon. Picks fights with her brother and sisters. Would argue a black cow was white. Yet though she tries everyone's patience I can't say I've ever been tempted to resort to the poem's conclusion:

Her mother...
she did spank her most emphatic.

What Doesn't Kill You #2

2011-11-16T00:55:00.000-08:00

It's only the third week of pony club but tonight my absolute beginners were given an impossible challenge. The quiet kind horses they've been learning to trot were requisitioned for private lessons, leaving us the wily, experienced ponies.
I tried my best to explain that when it comes to horses small never means docile: ponies have mouths like iron bars: if you pull to stop, they will pull against you; tug of war with 200Kg.
The girls repeated walk halt transitions using their body weight and closing their thighs -
Then I let them loose on the obstacle course - paths to steer into, cones to bend round, three trotting poles in the middle...
Two feral cats growled in the dark - two ponies bolted bucking wildly - two girls held on for as long as they could -
Then green with fright, but with admirable pluck, they remouted and resumed the course.
Afterwards, they congratulated themselves: "Anne says we stayed on for almost as long as professional riders."

No Parent Policy

2011-10-27T01:09:00.000-07:00

My kids are in Swim Squad at school. We pay a fee for this privilege. We drive them to 6am sessions, and pick them up after training.
Today I tried to spend five minutes poolside admiring Rex and Bea before going on to a parent teacher meeting.
I was asked to leave the pool.
I was told: "We have a No Parent Policy at all our training sessions; in the past we have found parents have interrupted coaches during sessions and disrupted the training for all swimmers. Their focus quite rightly should be on the children and they should be able to coach without interference from the sidelines."
After I got over feeling hurt and insulted - I began to wonder if I should adopt the same brutal attitude to the pony club mums who stand paddock side shouting superfluous instructions during my teaching sessions? It would certainly make my life easier.
But then I realised the loser is not the mum but the kid. Kids love to see their mums watching - my two were trilled by my five second appearance - just enough time to wave to them - when I picked them up Bea asked: "Did you see I'm diving much better?" and Rex said: "Do you see I was the fastest in my lane?"

Middle Age Spread

2011-10-26T00:19:00.001-07:00

For years I have been a thin girl - size 10 in most my clothes - and I just keep on wearing them season after season even though they're washed out and threadbare and faded - they fit and I like them and that's all matters....
Until the middle of August, 10 weeks ago, when I tried to fasten a faithful pair of jeans and they refused to meet at my waist.
I wasn't particularly worried - I was in Ireland and I was eating potatoes every day. And everyone knows if you eat lots of potatoes you start to look like a potato. I was confident when I returned to Bahrain, the weight was simply melt off.
Except it hasn't. My clothes still don't fit - inspite of pilates and riding, organic brown rice and teetotalism.
I never thought Middle Age Spread would arrive over night without fanfare or warning. I expected a slow creep of weight gain. And not for another ten years at least.
I'm emotionally attached to my faded, funky clothes -I don't want to replace them with elasticated waist bands and foundation garments and big knickers...
The bottom line is: I don't want to grow older.

Salmaniya Hospital

2011-10-25T05:04:00.000-07:00

I woke up with a hole in my retina, and sparkling floaters and blurred bits in my eye. I walked to Salmaniya Hospital - I was unfit to drive with my eye.
For six months Salmaniya Hospital has had controversial press coverage - medical staff were arrested and detained during the civil unrest in the Spring. I was a little bit worried the soldiers on the gate would think I was some sort of snooping reporter - come to hunt out a sensationalist story for one of the Great British papers - but I was ignored walking through. I wandered past Oncology and Kidneys and Maternity - I didn't know where I was going -
Finally I picked up the courage to ask a guard for directions. He pointed out where I should go. He advised me to jump the queue at Reception.
The Emergency Eye Clinic was busy and bustling. The staff were thorough, efficient and kind. I sat on a hard chair and waited my turn. Just like any other hospital, really.

Modern Classics

2011-10-24T01:45:00.000-07:00

Can I recommend yesterday's Observer supplement: Reading With Kids Ages 8+?
The reason I know that the book list is good is that I have four non-reading kids - physical kids not cerebral - yet they've picked up and voluntarily read for themselves most of the books that are showcased.
Including Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events which they read with such relish I became alarmed! Why did my kids want to read gothic horror - with mutilated parents and a grotesquely evil uncle - are their lives too secure? uninspiring?
Then I realised that my favourite novel from childhood - A Little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett is almost the very same story - a cherished child whose comfortable lifestyle is cruelly removed by the death of a beloved parent - thrusting her into a brutal world - where despite her much reduced circumstances she manages to retain her integrity and kindness ...

Painfree Parenting

2011-10-23T09:17:00.000-07:00

Eleven years ago today I went to the hospital for an induction.
The booking-in midwife examined me. She said: "You're already 6cm dilated."
"Without pain? Is that possible?" I asked her.
She suggested I take a walk. I walked up and down (and down and up) while Nick read the paper. At lunchtime the consultant came to break my waters.
She said: "You're 9cm dilated."
"Without pain? Is that possible?" I asked her.
*
Today Rex was 11. He wanted a party.
"Without pain? Is that possible?" I asked him.
He invited 14 footballer friends. They arrived in their runners with sunblock. Nick was the referee with a whistle. I took a video of them. They ran up and down the village pitch for an hour. When the game finished they drank only water. They were too hot and exhausted to eat. I put the video up on the TV. They watched the game highlights and chatted. They said: "Great party! Thanks for inviting me," when it was time to go home

Flogging A Dead horse

2011-09-26T03:38:00.000-07:00

There's a rule at the stable I ride at - if you want to queue-jump the livery waiting list you've got to allow your horse to be used in lessons.
"How many lessons?" I asked.
"Two lessons, three times a week. He'll be used for beginners - he's such a good horse..."
6 lessons with 6 beginners - pulling his mouth and and kicking his sides and sitting like bags of potatoes...
"I'll think about it," I said.
I started to make out a list: Those who wish to ride my horse:
a. will not jump him
b. no whips or spurs
3. must weigh less than 60kg
Then I thought of Black Beauty - valiant and noble and good. And treated so harshy by insensitive jockeys towards the end of his life.
I went back to the stables. I said: 'I'm sorry. The answer is No. "

BIG SKOOL

2011-09-24T06:15:00.000-07:00

When Nick's sister started at convent grammar school thirty five years ago her parents were given the most incredibly useful advice from the Mother Superior- START BUYING A BROADSHEET NEWSPAPER AND ENCOURAGE YOUR DAUGHTER TO READ IT.
Not just for the Home and World News. Or the reviews of theatre and books. Not just for Business and Travel, Science, Technology and Nature.
But for the extensive, fantastic vocabulary...
Today Maud and I read together a World News story about Israeli diplomats airlifted out of Cairo after protests outside their embassy escalated into violence:
We struggled with 'diplomatic abyss', 'speaking on condition of anonymity', 'besieged building' and 'international obligations'. Then Maud remarked: "It's going to take me at least a week to read one newspaper, Mummy."

The Lord is my Shepherd

2011-08-14T04:12:00.000-07:00

Maud (11) suffers from obsessional separation anxiety. She worries constantly that Nick or myself will be killed in a car or an aircraft - leaving her to cope alone with her Type 1 diabetes which has her walking a knife edge between life and death every day.She copes with her anxieties by comfort eating - which is probably the most dangerous thing a diabetic can do... (Diabetics who cannot control what they eat go blind and have feet amputated.)
I believe in seeking professional advice.
I sought audience with our minister.
I explained Maud's dilemma.
I asked him for help.
I hoped he might offer to speak with Maud.
Instead he referred me to Psalm 23 which starts: The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want.
I went home to the children. I said: "The reverend says if the Lord was my shepherd, I wouldn't worry so much about Maud..."
There was silence.
Then Bea said: "How can the Lord be your shepherd, Mummy? You are not a sheep."

Dyslexia Does Not Mean Stupid

2011-08-10T11:19:00.000-07:00

My son Rex is a bright little boy - articulate, intelligent, and a born leader. He also suffers from mild dyslexia and receives learning support at his school in Bahrain.
Should we have to move back to live in Northern Ireland I'd like Rex to go to the grammar school I went to. To get into the school requires the passing of an entrance test. The school has many pages on its website devoted to the admissions procedure - and the 'access arrangements' which ensure a child with mild dyslexia (like Rex) are given 25% extra time in the test - the same as he would expect to receive if sitting state exams such as GCSE or A Level.
The school (naturally) requires an Educational Psycologist's report stating that Rex is dyslexic before they can give him the 25% extra time.
The school has made it clear the assessment done on Rex in Bahrain is not enough to convince them my son is genuinely dyslexic. However, mysteriously, they have also said Rex cannot be assessed by an Educational Psychologist in NI just so he can sit the transfer test. (Why?)
I phoned Education Board to seek their advice. The woman I spoke to suggested that if Rex was dyslexic he was probably too stupid to go to grammar school.
Induge me with this list of Famous People with Dyslexia
Mohammad Ali, Hans Christian Anderson, Beethoven, Alexander Graham Bell, Orlando Bloom, Napoleon Bonaparte, Sir Richard Branson, Erin Brockovich, George H.W. Bush,
Julius Caesar, Prince Charles, Cher, Agatha Christie, Winston Churchill, Tom Cruise
Charles Darwin, Walt Disney, Thomas Edison, Albert Einstein, Dwight D. Eisenhower, Michael Faraday, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Henry Ford, Benjamin Franklin, Zsa Zsa Gabor,
Galileo, Danny Glover, Vincent Van Gogh, Whoopi Goldberg, John Grisham, Woody Harrelson, Steven Hawkings, Tommy Hilfiger, Dustin Hoffman, Sir Anthony Hopkins, Magic Johnson, John F. Kennedy, Robert Kennedy, Keira Knightley, John Lennon, Jay Leno, Carl Lewis, Steve McQueen, Michelangelo, Mozart, Jack Nicholson, Louis Pasteur
General George Patton, Pablo Picasso, Edgar Allen Poe, Nelson Rockefeller, Franklin D. Roosevelt, Rodin, George C. Scott, Steven Spielberg, Sylvester Stallone, Jackie Stewart, Quentin Tarantino, Thomas Thoreau, Mark Twain, Jules Verne, Leonardo da Vinci, Robin Williams, Woodrow Wilson, Orville Wright, Wilbur Wright and William Butler Yeats.
The only other thing these people have in common is that none of them has ever been educated in Northern Ireland.

Diabetes Math

2011-08-03T00:47:00.000-07:00

Maud (11) has been learning how to manage her diabetes - the Northern Ireland way.
First we assume everything Maud eats comes out of a packet. She weighs the food she wants to eat. She reads the nutritional information on the side of the packaging to find out how many grams of CHO are in 100g of the foodstuff - then she calculates how many grams of CHO are in the bowl on the scales. (CHO is an abbreviation for carbohydrate)
Then using her ICR (Insulin Carbohydrate Ratio) she calculates how many units of insulin she needs to digest the CHO.
She checks her blood sugar (BS) by pricking her finger and feeding the blood into her blood sugar meter.
If her reading is higher than the recommended range she must calculate how much insulin she needs to bring it down - using her personalised ICF (Insulin Correction Factor).
She adds both insulin requirements together and shoots up before eating.
Good job Maud is good at maths.
Compare this to the Middle East way:
When Maud was diagnosed she was told: "You have type 1 diabetes. You will be given two injections a day. You will eat a low fat diet. You will eat organic wholewheat pasta and rice. You will not eat sweets or processed food."

Slieve Gallion

2011-08-01T11:08:00.000-07:00

Another fun day out in Northern Ireland and this time we're climbing Slieve Gallion. Such a lovely walk past foxgloves, ferns and fir trees in Iniscarn Forest Park, turn right at the pylons and climb, until we reach the heather on top. Hurrah!

2011-07-31T11:04:00.000-07:00

Nick does not travel well with our children. When they were babies and we lived in Botswana he:
a. cried on a flight
b. paid my parents to fly in his place
c. took valium before flying
Now the children are older and the flight from Bahrain isn't overly long and I always fly at least one direction without him - but I still do expect him to fly with us sometimes
This morning he phoned from Bahrain to say:
"I'm in the travel agent. I'm booking my trip to Ireland. Unfortunatley we won't be able to fly back together. There are no seats left on your Saturday flight. I'm going to have to fly back on Sunday..."
Was he taking the mick? (as we say here in Ireland)
I said: "I have a better idea. Let's swap the names on our tickets. You fly on Saturday with the children and I'll take the Sunday flight..."
Suddenly it wasn't a problem to change all of our flights to Sunday.
One big happy family. Flying back to Bahrain together...
Can't wait!

The Strand

2011-07-30T05:59:00.000-07:00

Northern Ireland is not really known as a holiday destination - unless you are interested in tribal conflict (or big ships that sink).
A pity for Northern Ireland HAS SO MUCH TO OFFER!
First blink of sun - we went to the sea side. The Strand at Portstewart is National Trust but don't forget to pack a windbreak, and a hammer to knock the poles into the sand.

If sunbathing isn't your thing, may I suggest sandhill jumping - performed here quite magnificently by Maud...

And of course no trip would be complete without a dip in the north Atlantic. Be warned though - it's icy cold. If you're brave enough to go in you'll have it all to yourself...

Music Lessons

2011-07-14T07:30:00.000-07:00

Rex is keen to take up an instrument - so we went to see Mr H, who teaches brass at the school.
"Brass chooses the boy!" he told me.
I looked at cases for tuba and French Horn, and crossed my fingers that they wouldn't choose Rex or I was going to have to buy a bigger car to carry the instrument round...
My prayers were answered. He came home from his try-out at brass and announced: "The trumpet picked me!"

Anna Sui

2011-07-02T01:54:00.000-07:00

I've been shopping again at the big discount sale - where have you been all my life, Anna Sui? Finally I've found a designer who understands flat chested women who do not have curves but good legs...
So I bought three Anna Sui dresses - the one in the photo above and two others - and the sale does not end till tonight - perhaps I'll go back for a fourth...

odd molly

2011-06-30T09:51:00.000-07:00

That's not me in the photo - that's a model modelling the dress I bought today in a secret sale...
We were driving past the Exhibition Centre en route to the supermarket to buy bread -the large billboard outside was in Arabic - the only thing we could read was '90%'
"It looks like a sale!" I said, excited.
"But why is the the writing in Arabic?" asked Maud.
We decided that probably it was sale of designer abayas - or jewelled cufflinks for thobes - something that wouldn't appeal to the average Western shopper...
I said: "Even so....90% off is not to be sniffed at..."
We turned the car at the lights and drove back to the Exhibition Centre - to discover the sale was a clearout of the most expensive, most exclusive boutique in Bahrain - Seventh Heaven which stocks just about every fabulous brand in the world...
I'm sure I don't have to tell you I spent all my money and time at the sale and there will not be toast for breakfast tomorrow.

A Cautionary Tale

2011-06-28T10:12:00.000-07:00

I was in Cosmetic Surgery this morning buying a tube of face cream - (mesoestetic hydra-vital factor K) - and having the usual fun chat with the surgeon -
He says: "Botox would fix those frown lines on your forehead"
I say: "No thanks"
He says: "I would recommend filler in your top lip."
"No thanks"
"Non-surgical lifting and tightening?"
"No thank you, I'm here only for the face cream"
Then the telephone rings. The nurse answers. I try not to eavesdrop but the woman's voice is hysterical and after a few terse questions and answers:
Nurse: "Of course its not permanent, Madam."
Woman: "How do you know it's not permanent?"
Nurse: " It cost only BD150. It will not be permanent at that price."
The hysterical woman had been for some filler in her lips but had decided it wasn't enough - it was too natural looking - and had gone somewhere else for a 'top up' and now had lips like....

Somewhere

2011-06-25T10:00:00.000-07:00

Somewhere there waiteth in this world of ours
for one lone soul, another lonely soul -
Each chasing each through all the weary hours,
And meeting strangely at one sudden goal;
Then blend they - like green leaves with golden flowers,
Into one beautiful and perfect whole -
And life's long night is ended, and the way
Lies open onward to eternal day
Sir Edwin Arnold (1832-1904)

Happy Thirteen

2011-06-19T21:57:00.000-07:00

Thirteen years ago it was just him and me - and it really was just him and me - getting married in spite of the doom-sayers: "You can't marry him, he's a Catholic." "You can't marry him, he's divorced." "You can marry him, he's too old for you."
Just as well I trust my own judgement.
Thirteen years and all of them happy.
As Beatrice said this morning: "Happy Adversity Mummy and Daddy"

Mother Knows Best

2011-06-12T01:08:00.000-07:00

Maud, 11, had a dressage lesson while I schooled Waif in the paddock. Afterwards, we cooled off together.
She said, "I'm learning how to 'shoulder-in'. I'm finding it rather difficult..."
I gathered up Waif's reins and gave her a quick demonstration. I told her: "It's all to do with weight distribution..."
She was opened mouthed with admiration.
"He did it for you!" she said. "The first time you asked him, he did it!"
I had to laugh at her innocence for eleven thinks it knows everything these days and eleven's mother is just an old dear, useful only for driving eleven to riding lessons...
I said: "No need to look so shocked, darling..."

Wish Me Luck

2011-06-09T01:40:00.000-07:00

I'm jumping Waif tomorrow. Wish me luck. I'm going to need it.

The Law of Supply and Demand

2011-06-07T00:32:00.000-07:00

My favourite food is mashed potato and butter - so when our local supermarket announced it was selling potatoes for 100fils (16p) a kilo - for one day only - hurry hurry - I engaged my sharp elbows and sales shopping skills in the rugby scrum round the potatoes. On the way to the checkout I chucked into my basket a pound of salted butter. To discover the supermarket had cleverly predicted a run on the butter today and had shamelessly doubled its price.

Lunch

2011-06-05T03:57:00.001-07:00

Nick and I went down the Suq to collect my birthday present earrings - sapphires set in white gold - I picked the sapphires myself and Mr Lucky Gems set them - It was lunch hour and we followed the crowd into a Filipino cafe - a modest establishment jollied up with Christmas lights; the waitresses didn't speak English, the menu was in Tagalo and all dishes were served with a huge mound of steaming sticky rice.
"I never realised Filipino food was so popular in Bahrain," said Nick.
But it wasn't the Filipino food which was proving such a big hit with the customers -it was the wide screeen TV at the back of the room showing a Filipino game show with beautiful girls in bikinis. When the game show regretfully ended and a fully dressed soap opera came on the cafe quickly emptied.

The Bookseller of Kabul

2011-05-31T01:35:00.000-07:00

And I thought the culture I grew up in was awful... Rural Ulster in the Seventies was a male dominated society - it overflowed with misogynist bullies - swanking around in dark suits, holier than thou - one of our warlords was once quoted as saying, with a pious expression on his fat, well fed face: "the problem with women is that they don't know to stop talking when a man starts."
Thanks God then for my own lovely father - the most gentle of men - who has never once raised his voice to me, or told me how to behave. Or what to wear. Or who to marry.
Even now, he lends me his car when I need it, he babysits when I want to go out, he compliments my cooking and when I make mistakes he always blames everyone else.

An Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog

2011-05-28T20:36:00.000-07:00

Good people all, of every sort,
Give ear unto my song;
And if you find it wondrous short,
It cannot hold you long.

In Islington there was a man,
Of whom the world might say
That still a godly race he ran,
Whene'er he went to pray.

A kind and gentle heart he had,
To comfort friends and foes;
The naked every day he clad,
When he put on his clothes.

And in that town a dog was found,
As many dogs there be,
Both mongrel, puppy, whelp and hound,
And curs of low degree.

This dog and man at first were friends;
But when a pique began,
The dog, to gain some private ends,
Went mad and bit the man.

Around from all the neighbouring streets
The wondering neighbours ran,
And swore the dog had lost his wits,
To bite so good a man.

The wound it seemed both sore and sad
To every Christian eye;
And while they swore the dog was mad,
They swore the man would die.

But soon a wonder came to light,
That showed the rogues they lied:
The man recovered of the bite,
The dog it was that died.

Oliver Goldsmith (1766)

The Painted Veil

2011-05-28T02:50:00.000-07:00

The book should come with a Health Warning attached - BEWARE IT'S NOT LIKE THE FILM -if you thought the film was sad...
Silly vain Kitty marries stiff, formal Walter because he asked her and she was desperate. Walter takes her back to Hong Kong where he works and within three months she's committing adultery with slimy Charles Townsend, the assistant colonial governor. When Walter discovers their affair he gives Kitty two choices - he will divorce her quietly if Charles Townsend agrees to marry her, or she can come upcountry with him, into a cholera epidemic with the very good chance it will kill her.
Of course slimy Charles will not marry her - it would ruin his career and his reputation - so Kitty, with no other choice travels upcountry with Walter. Into the jaws of death.
And here's where the book and the film diverge.
In the film Kitty and Walter are reconciled; Walter even accepts that she's probably pregnant with Charles Townsend's baby. And when he dies with cholera, she's distraught and by his side.
In the book they are not reconciled - Walter dies, face to the wall, quoting the last line of Goldsmith's An Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog - 'the dog it was that died.'

Black Swan

2011-05-23T01:46:00.000-07:00

I once read an intriguing piece about how to write a bestseller - and the gist of the feature was this - to write a bestseller one must open an artery and let the life blood spill out - the reader will feel the emotion and respond it. And it doesn't matter what genre you choose - John Grisham's first novel A Time To Kill was written after he witnessed the horrowing testimony of a 10 year old girl who'd been raped -
Having watched Black Swan on the edge of my seat I think it's true to say it doesn't matter what creative discipline you choose - novel writing, ballet or the movies - to create a bestseller one must open an artery and let the life blood spill out.

An Essay on Criticism

2011-05-22T01:40:00.000-07:00

A little learning is a dangerous thing;
drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring:
there shallow draughts intoxicate the brain,
and drinking largely sobers us again.
Alexander Pope
This extract from An Essay on Criticism - pinned to the door of the tack room since Tuesday- has caused anarchy at the stables. Already it's been ripped from its thumb tacks, screwed up in a ball and dumped into the trash. Then salvaged and carefully smoothed and repinned to the door of the tack room. I'm rather amused that a literary work can ignite such a violent reaction - the pen is indeed mightier than the sword!

Slumdog Millionaire

2011-05-21T10:02:00.000-07:00

Congratulations to screen writer Simon Beaufoy for transforming an OK Indian novel into an excellent international movie. Mr Beaufoy - if you ever decide to transform an OK Irish novel into an excellent international movie I have seven to chose from...

Fake Tan

2011-05-19T07:13:00.000-07:00

I'm going to the Rugby Club Ball and I'm wearing a halterneck dress which exposes the most of my back and plunges right down to my navel. But I have a Farmer's Tan - arms, neck and chest are burnt brown, the rest is freckled and pale. In an effort to balance the colour I bought a bottle of fake and asked Nick to to administer light sweeping strokes across the pale curve of my back. I demonstrated on my calves, thighs and tummy. I gently suggested a couple of times as he kneaded and pressed and vigorously rubbed : "Maybe I lighter touch, darling?"
Afterwards I inspected his handiwork - I almost exploded with horror - it was blotchy and streaked and utterly awful. I could make out his fingers in one place. And on my shoulder was a huge gloopy blob. I looked (and still look) like an oompah loompah.
He was defiant. He said: "I think there's something wrong with your back."
There is most certainly something wrong with my back - which is why I will be standing with it pressed to a wall at the Rugby Club Ball.

Ode to Pony Club Mothers

2011-05-17T00:01:00.000-07:00

They're at it again, the Pony Club mums, telling me how to teach... Last night their kids rode off around the arena - a gentle stretching walk - after a lap I was planning to check the girth and the length of their leathers.
PC Mum pipes up: "Excuse me! Excuse me! Annabel's stirrups are not the same length."
"Yes I can see that," I said. "I'll adjust them when she rides back to me."
"But what if she falls off before that because her stirrups aren't the same length?" (The implication being that the fall will be my fault, the result of my negligence...)
Usually I try to be kind. And to reassure the pony club mums that their children are in safe hands. But last night I couldn't be bothered. I said: "If Annabel's not fit to sit on the pony she shouldn't be in this class. She should be on a lead rein."
Today I've decided to fight fire with fire. The following extract from An Essay on Criticism (1703) is to be pinned on the door to the tack room:
A little learning is a dangerous thing;
drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring:
there shallow draughts intoxicate the brain,
and drinking largely sobers us again.
Alexander Pope

Diplomatic Baggage

2011-05-15T21:20:00.000-07:00

I absolutely loved this book. Not only was it the perfect antidote to the post modern whingeing of The Slap but I utterly identified with plucky Brit Brigid who married a man with itchy feet and spent decades trailing the world in his wake. So there's two of us - that's good to know...
What's particularly good is that Brigid pulls no punches about what is naively perceived by non-ex-pats to be a glamorous lifestyle for apart from the sunshine and staff a trailing spouse's lifestyle is very much the same as it would be back home - except she's a foreigner in an often hostile land, with absolutely no backup - no family members to help her out, no Welfare State to support her, and Hubby's at work at least six days a week.
It's the trailing spouse who finds a house she can bear to live in. And places in schools for the children. And a bottled water supplier. And a car. And staff she trusts and likes. And a few like minded friends.
And by the time she's managed all that it's time to move on to the next place.

The Slap

2011-05-12T06:48:00.000-07:00

Please don't tell me this is an accurate representation of contemporary Australian society - really - are all Australian men aggressive, boorish and unfaithful with a Madonna / Whore complex? Are all Australian women submissively tolerant of their aggressive, boorish, unfaithful husbands? Are all Australian teenagers taking drugs and sleeping around? Does everyone swear all the time? I have faithfully read through the 500 pages and been unable to find one person I could identify with - not even one I could sympathise with -
So, what's it all about?
Obnoxious aggressive small boy gets a slap at a party from an aggressive wife- beating man. Passive aggressive earth mother of the small boy refuses to accept his apology - she reports him to the police and those at the party who witnessed the slap are forced to take sides on the issue - which they cheerfully do because everyone at this particular party is tediously opinionated with one- dimensional opinions...

Mid Term Break

2011-05-07T08:06:00.000-07:00

I sat all morning in the college sick bay
Counting bells knelling classes to a close.
At two o'clock our neighbors drove me home.

In the porch I met my father crying--
He had always taken funerals in his stride--
And Big Jim Evans saying it was a hard blow.

The baby cooed and laughed and rocked the pram
When I came in, and I was embarrassed
By old men standing up to shake my hand

And tell me they were "sorry for my trouble,"
Whispers informed strangers I was the eldest,
Away at school, as my mother held my hand

In hers and coughed out angry tearless sighs.
At ten o'clock the ambulance arrived
With the corpse, stanched and bandaged by the nurses.

Next morning I went up into the room. Snowdrops
And candles soothed the bedside; I saw him
For the first time in six weeks. Paler now,

Wearing a poppy bruise on his left temple,
He lay in the four foot box as in his cot.
No gaudy scars, the bumper knocked him clear.

A four foot box, a foot for every year

Seamus Heaney

Unscheduled Landing

2011-05-02T06:16:00.000-07:00

Things rarely go to plan when we fly and this trip was not an exception. Cross winds in Abu Dhabi (AUH) prevented the aircraft from landing, we were diverted to Sharjah where we sat on the runway for a couple of hours till the AUH airport opened again. (And even then I noticed we landed on a runway with sandbanks up each side). A safe landing is not to be sniffed at but we'd missed our connection to Bahrain.
Etihad ground staff couldn't have been nicer - they arranged for the children and me to spend the day in a hotel until a later flight. I must say my heart sank for I spent allot of time in Gulf State hotels when I was an airstewardess and most were spectacularly uncomfortable with scratchy hard sheets and cardboard box pillows, limp salads and fatty meat in the restaurants. So with low expectations I allowed them to take us to Park Inn Hotel on Yas Island...
And oh my goodness - I was so impressed! The sheets were 300 thread count cotton, the pillows were soft and the buffet at lunch was delicious... The children were hugely impressed.
"Let's stay a bit longer!" they pleaded. "We never get a holiday..."

Mutton Dressed As...

2011-04-29T06:30:00.000-07:00

To celebrate today's royal wedding I dressed up in my frock and pranced around the garden. Dress fits fine from the neck down... Granny took this photo of myself and the children.

Queen Camilla

2011-04-25T13:41:00.000-07:00

I have another literary suggestion for this royal wedding week - by my favourite author Sue Townsend. Sue's rather fond of Camilla who comes across awfully well in this hilarious sequel to The Queen and I - a Republican government has abolished the monarchy and for 13 years the ex-Royal family have been electronically tagged and imprisoned a sink estate with 'the criminal, the antisocial, the inadequate, the feckless, the agitators, the disgraced professionals, the stupid, the drug addicted and the morbidly obese...'

Your Royal Hostage

2011-04-23T02:25:00.000-07:00

May I suggest Your Royal Hostage as a literary antidote to the upcoming royal wedding - since they seem to have so little story of their own...
English rose Princess Amy is engaged to marry - it's the wedding of the year - and Jemima Shore, a reporter, has been asked to anchor the American television coverage. But it's not just nostalgic Americans who are interested in the royal wedding - an animal rights activist group is conspiring to make an extravagant gesture during the televised coverage...

The Soul Selects her own Society

2011-04-22T08:45:00.000-07:00

The soul selects her own society,
Then shuts the door;
On her divine majority
Obtrude no more.

Unmoved, she notes the chariot's pausing
At her low gate;
Unmoved, an emperor is kneeling
Upon her mat.

I've known her from an ample nation
Choose one;
Then close the valves of her attention
Like stone.

Emily Dickinson

Nick's Back!

2011-04-13T05:35:00.000-07:00

It's always difficult when Nick comes back after a separation. To remember to be 'we' again instead of a solitary 'I' - the children don't count for I think of them as extensions to myself - they did live inside me for nine months...
So I'm still making tea (for one) in a cup instead of tea (for two) in the teapot. And twice today I reached for the phone, to call him in Bahrain, then said: "Oh my goodness, you're here! I keep forgetting."
Marriage is a state - of mind - and fortunately he's used to me now - he says I'm always like this -
He knows in a couple of days I'll reach out in my sleep and snuggle into his back and ask him: "Will you make tea or will I?"

Slurry

2011-04-08T23:53:00.000-07:00

My darling uncle Edward has died and last night I went to the wake. His son Patrick came over to chat.
"Are you still riding horses?" he asked me.
"Are you still racing motorbikes?"
We've always been very good friends even though I'm terrified of bikes and he hates horses with a passion.
He said: "Do you remember the last time I rode your horse?"
He'd been riding with me along the edge of a field spread with the slurry - something flew up out of the hedge, the mare spooked, Patrick fell off, his foot got caught in the stirrup, the mare took off across the field and Patrick was dragged through the slurry.
I said: "That was 20 years ago! Or maybe 30 years ago!"
His eyes twinkled. He almost smiled. Forgot for a brief moment his grief. He said: "I was washing slurry out of my ears for a week."

Little Women

2011-04-06T01:46:00.000-07:00

Remind me again how Marmee managed when Amy and Jo were at each other's throats? I have an Amy and Jo who delight in upsetting each other. Last night Jo ate Amy's cup cake in retaliation she tells me for Amy defacing the Easter greetings card she was making for Granny. And this morning there was another eruption - a tug of war over the head of a hairbrush.
Before long Amy will be throwing Jo's novel into a fire...
And what will poor Marmee do then?
My own mother says to ignore them. She says if I try to referee they will gang up against me and turn on me. She says it's a lose lose situtation.
Which is why she always ran away screaming when my three sisters and me fought with each other when we were growing up.

Divine Intervention

2011-04-04T09:12:00.000-07:00

I always wondered what it would take for my husband to suffer from feelings of possessiveness. We don't really have that sort of relationship which probably just as well since we spend so much time apart...
It's been a fortnight since the children and I left him behind in Bahrain. "I don't really miss you," I told him by phone, "Everyone's being so kind..."
The bachelor farmer down the road had welcomed me back with a bunch of flowers. The man from the garden centre gave me a camellia bush when I went to buy apple trees. Male friends from school have been stopping their tractors to chat - one brought me duck eggs, one offered to plant the apple trees ...
All this Nick accepted without comment. As I say, he's not the jealous type.
Until last night when I remarked : "The minister winked at me in church..."
There was a brief pause, then he said: "I've been thinking I might fly home next week to see you. You've been on your own long enough."

Karma

2011-03-25T05:07:00.000-07:00

Years ago when I was at school my sister's friend's sister was pony mad. She was only a little girl - at least ten years younger than me and too young to have a pony of her own so I used to lead her around on my pony when she called out to the house. I think I might even have taught her how to rise to the trot.
Now Ruby is a solicitor with three horses of her own, and a stable block and an arena. And last night at pilates she said to my sister: "Anne is welcome to come ride my horses any time she wants."

Sheep

2011-03-24T09:38:00.000-07:00

You never forget how to do it, how to pull on the wellies and muck in...
Yesterday I had a phone call from dad en route to the mart at the foot of the mountain.
"That ewe in the field across from your house - can you see her lamb?"
I looked. There's only a hundred ewes in the field, each one with her new babies.
I said, "Black face ewe? Staring at the hedge at the back of the hay barn... No lamb."
"I think it's stuck in the ditch," says my father.
So I pulled on the wellies and went out to the field and climbed into the ditch and walked up and down it and saw rabbits and fox holes and some hidden primroses and got my hair caught in the brambles but I didn't find the prodigal lamb.
I told dad: "Let's leave it alone and it'll come home wagging its tail behind it."
Then today the post man stops his red van and knocks on the kitchen window and says: "There's a ewe on her back in that field."
So I pulled on the wellies and went out to the field and in the midst of the hundred there was a wee hogget, heavily pregnant and stuck on her back with four skinny legs waving at me. Just waiting for a crow to sweep down and peck out her eyes.
I couped her back over and went back to the postman.
"Anything for me?" I asked him

Home Sweet Home

2011-03-23T09:34:00.001-07:00

The joke is wearing a bit thin - that I've escaped from the volatile Middle East to SAFETY in Northern Ireland...
Coleraine is a town near the coast, it's reached by a wide sweeping road with wide verges, a footpath and neatly trimmed hedges. The farmhouses en route are grey pebbled dashed with little sparkly mirrors in the pebble dash...
In Coleraine everybody talks to you - the security man in Dunnes Stores took five minutes to tell me there was no food court, the Fitting Room man in TK MAX was as thrilled as me when I found Vera Wang bras for a fiver, the woman in Laura Ashley explained with great charm their interior design service...
I popped into a shop - they sold sweets in glass jars- I bought a quarter of butterscotch tablets...
I'm thinking perhaps I escaped from the volatile Middle East and went back in time 60 years...

Evacuation

2011-03-16T20:59:00.000-07:00

Nick's company has asked us to leave Bahrain until the thing settles down. Women and children first. They have offered us open ended tickets. They will fly us out ASAP. I've told the children to pack their school shoes for my sister's school in NI has kindly offered to educate them while they are refugees.
Of course I'm rather exhausted with the stress of living in a war zone - until the military moved in there were a shaky few days when I wore an abaya and headscarf and sunglasses when I went out to the shops - rogue protesters were attacking ex-pats....
"Take your flute, Maud," I said, "Aunt Lesley's school has an orchestra."
"Shin pads Rex, they play football."
"Plastic coat, Florence, it rains every day."
"Beatrice you don't really think you're going to wear shorts and sandals in Ireland in March?"

Breaking News

2011-03-15T21:42:00.001-07:00

The army are clearing Pearl Roundabout. We ran up onto the roof to watch but the teargas smacked us in the face, it was in my mouth like acid, so we came back inside. From my office I can see black smoke rising up, there are military helicopter circling, heavy arms fire and the scream of ambulances.
Maybe I won't go riding today.

Operation Banner

2011-03-14T21:11:00.000-07:00

The Saudi troops arrived last night in convoy over the causeway. They're here for an indefinate time period to provide back-up and support to Bahrain's police force.
Same scenario as August 1969 when British troops arrived in Northern Ireland for an indefinate time period to provide back-up and support to Northern Ireland's police force.
Do you know how long the British troops stayed?
38 years.

Apocalypse

2011-03-13T22:30:00.000-07:00

So, I was down the stables last night teaching the nine year olds how to tack up, and lamenting to Omar, my colleague, that the schools have been closed again because of the civil unrest. He asks me: "What age are you?"
"I'm not telling you that!"
So he asks a child instead. She tells him: "I'm 9."
"What year were you born?"
"2002."
"2002 + 9 = 2011"
Omar is a bit of mystic. One never knows what he's going to say next. He says: "I am 42 this year. I was born in 1969. 1969 + 42 = 2011."
"And your point is?"
Well, according to Omar this mathematical phenomenon occurs only once every 823 years. It foretells a year of catastrophic upheaval with governments overthrown, dynasties destroyed, earthquakes, famine, pestilence; chaos. Not just in the Middle East, but everywhere, all over the world. Oh, and October will be the worst month...
I felt a delicious shiver down my spine. My throat went dry, my scalp crept. I felt the flames of hell starting to lick round my feet - just as I used to feel them when I was told from the pulpit at home: Repent for the end of the world is nigh....
I said: "I'm still not telling you what age I am."

Helping

2011-03-09T02:12:00.000-08:00

Nick has flown to England this week to visit his very frail father.
The children said: "Don't worry, Mummy, we'll help you!"
This morning they brought me a cup of tea to bed. They said: "We are making school lunches."
School lunches as made by the children consist of apples, bananas, raisins, popcorn, Babybel cheese, cherry tomatoes, sliced cucumber, baby carrots, cashew nuts, Ritz Crackers, plastic bottles of water...
Maud said: "And I have made Mars Bar sandwiches."
Quite an improvement on the soup in a thermos I took to school as a child.

Airbrush

2011-03-03T04:02:00.000-08:00

Poor Nicole Kidman, she got such a slagging for trying out Botox and fillers. And then when her signature strawberry hair began to turn silver she was slagged once again - 'Forget a hairdressing appointment, Nicole?'
Don't mean spirited media types understand that us natural redheads, with fair skin and fine hair age really badly from 40?
I, myself have notice a most ghastly decline in the elasticity of my skin - from now on it's long sleeves and skirts below knee length... And a monthly rolling appointment with Sara to have my red hair touched up... That's where I was this morning, shrouded in a sheet, flicking through 'Hello', discussing Nicole's recent statement that Botox et al did not suit her and she has stopped injecting stuff into her face...
"But can you believer her?" asked cynical Sara.
Well, actually yes, for there, in the midst of the glamorous airbrushed photographs of inhumanly beautiful women I found a photo of Nicole.
I showed it to Sara. I said: "Look - at last she has started to age in exactly the same way as me - we're both a bit slacker around the jaw line, and there are deep lines etched into our foreheads..."
Sara said: "Her hair's not as good as yours. She should phone me for an appointment."

TEFL

2011-03-02T05:04:00.000-08:00

Bahraini youth have been leaving their secondary schools to march in the streets of Bahrain. I met a march of young ladies this morning, they shouted at me: "Get out of our country." Nick met a group of young men. They shouted at him: "Death to the Kalifa's (Bahrain's ruling family)."
Good to know English as a Foreign Language is being taught to such a high standard in Bahrain's secondary schools

Comfort Zone

2011-03-01T19:36:00.000-08:00

I swapped riders and ponies tonight - it was a disaster.
Jamie who always rides fast trotting Toby couldn't get lazy Munch to move.
"Stupid animal. Why won't he move?"
"Because you're hauling on the reins..."
All along he's been using Toby's reins to balance - he's not been riding at all but waterskiing...
Bella who rides lazy Munch was moved to fast trotting Toby.
"Don't kick," I told her. "Don't kick or he'll bolt. Think zen thoughts when you ride him." But she rides like a Hun and insisted on kicking and Toby kept bolting and even after she'd fallen off three times she was still kicking and kicking.
"I'm bored," complained Liz, an adored only child, who likes undivided attention and is not suited to group situations. Of course she was bored - she was riding (as always) our remote control pony, Duke, who walks and trots to my voice command. I did not dare swap her onto a real pony for I know she's not fit for the challenge and her father will sue if she falls.

True Grit

2011-02-28T21:54:00.000-08:00

Rex took his first fall tonight over a very small jump - he lay prostrated in the arena - tears in his eyes, his face pale.
"What bit is broken?" I asked him.
Turned out there was nothing the matter - his pride was injured, not his neck.
I said, "That was a very small fall, Rex. Get up and get back on your pony. And try not to get left behind this time when he jumps-"
"You're not very kind, Mum," he told me.
I shrugged. "If you're not prepared to fall off, don't ride."
He nursed his injured pride until after the lesson and we were watching Tamara jump Skippy. Skippy swerved and Tamara fell off in to the wing pole, catching her leg on the sharp metal cup. She tore a large rip in her jodphurs and a nasty gash in her leg. She stood up laughing and rebuilt the jump. She caught Skippy and jumped back up on him, cantered round and back over the jump. Then she dismounted to get her leg seen to.
In a very small voice Rex admitted: "You're right, Mum, mine was a very small fall."

Normality?

2011-02-22T04:45:00.000-08:00

It has been a curious week, since the start of the civil unrest in Bahrian - people I thought I knew really well have been doing and saying the most curious things.
For example, my friend - a staunch Socialist - is furious with the (civil rights) protesters because her organic shampoo is finished and she's too alarmed to drive past Pearl Roundabout into town to buy more.
Yesterday at the primary school a few teachers left before lunch to avoid the late afternoon march.
Pony Club is half full and some hard riding women who take falls with composure have fled Bahrain entirely.
Before they left they said: "We're suffering from low grade exhausting anxiety. We have butterflies in our tummies. We wake up each morning with a sickening feeling of dread. The noise of the helicopters is deafening. We are afraid of the troops on the street..."
I struggled to understand.
I said: "But the helicopters are here to keep you safe - they're looking out for trouble makers. And the tanks and the road blocks and the armed police and the army are here for your protection. You should feel safe not afraid!"
To which they replied: "You grew up in Northern Ireland during the Troubles... This was your normality. This is not normal for us."

The Stranger in the Mirror

2011-02-21T22:21:00.000-08:00

I'd leave the house convinced that I looked tremendous: elegant, original, with a fascinating vintage twist. But.... by the time I reached the office full of busy efficient young women all looking indefinably right in their clothes it would be clear to me that what I had on was, equally indefinably, wrong. Not risibly unfashionable or disastrous mutton dressed as lamb, just very dowdy and a bit eccentric: an opinionated old bird in flat boots, trailing peculiar bits of vintage finery.

How to Get On In Society

2011-02-18T08:17:00.000-08:00

Phone for the fish knives, Norman
As cook is a little unnerved;
You kiddies have crumpled the serviettes
And I must have things daintily served.

Are the requisites all in the toilet?
The frills round the cutlets can wait
Till the girl has replenished the cruets
And switched on the logs in the grate.

It's ever so close in the lounge dear,
But the vestibule's comfy for tea
And Howard is riding on horseback
So do come and take some with me

Now here is a fork for your pastries
And do use the couch for your feet;
I know that I wanted to ask you-
Is trifle sufficient for sweet?

Milk and then just as it comes dear?
I'm afraid the preserve's full of stones;
Beg pardon, I'm soiling the doileys
With afternoon tea-cakes and scones.

John Betjeman

Trouble

2011-02-17T06:13:00.000-08:00

We're two streets away from the trouble. Heard gun shots on Valentine's Night, first time in years but you never forget.
Tuesday morning the man who cleans cars on our street asked could he hide in the garden - they were shooting on the main road.
Last night was noisy with helicopters and tear gas and guns as the army broke up the party at Pearl Roundabout -
We think there may be a curfew tonight.

The End of the Affair

2011-02-08T00:19:00.000-08:00

Driven potty with jealousy Bendrix walks away from his married lover and decides to pay for some casual sex to hurt both himself and Sarah... (As you do)
He finds a pretty professional girl and offers her drink...
Except:
Looking at her over my whisky I thought how odd it was that I felt no desire for her at all. It was as if quite suddenly after all the promiscuous years I had grown up. My passion for Sarah had killed simple lust for ever. Never again would I be able to enjoy a woman without love.

Sisters

2011-02-07T09:51:00.000-08:00

Just two little girls and one large arena. Learning to trot without stirrups. And not doing too badly, all things considered... Until they wander too close to each other and Munch darts at Jukebox and kicks him and Katie riding Jukebox falls off. And begins to howl at the top of her voice. And Rebecca riding Munch immediately thinks she's in the most frightful trouble for allowing her pony to kick her sister's pony so she starts howling too...
"My mum's going to kill me," she says.

Pony Club Mum

2011-02-06T09:58:00.001-08:00

I'd been warned about this special breed - tonight I got a chance to meet one.
It is my opinion that Precious Child rides with more confidence than ability but mum - who rides herself - insisted she was ready for pony club. Her child (aged 5) does not need a lead rein...
Tonight's class was riding without stirrups. The children walked without stirrups, then it was time to trot, one at a time with me running along side, ready to grab a leg when they wobble.
"And the rest of you stand there and watch."
Off we trotted - Frosty and me and wee Josh...
Precious Child's pony did not hear the instruction to wait, politely he trotted forward to follow us. After two strides Precious Child wobbled off on to the ground. The pony looked a bit shocked.
Then Pony Club mum had hysterics and started ranting about 'safety issues'.
So I bring a groom into the arena to walk beside Precious Child. Poor little thing, I am thinking - to have such an hysterical mum...
"Get him away from me," shrieks Precious Child. "I don't want him near me."
I have decided Precious Child and her Pony Club mum deserve each other. Next week I'm going to suggest Pony Club mum walk beside Precious Child - that should sort out the 'safety issue'.

All That is Gold Does Not Glitter

2011-02-04T05:47:00.000-08:00

All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.

John Ronald Reuel Tolkien

Ungrateful Little Beast

2011-02-03T05:26:00.000-08:00

At the end of school I was in playground, minding my own business, waiting for my children when Rex's friend, James, races over.
"Where is my mum, have you seen her?"
I shook my head. "Not yet - the bell's only gone...."
He began to look anxious. He said, "I left my homework behind and she said she'd bring it at bell time..."
When his mum arrives he shouts at her: "Do you have my homework?"
Shamefaced she tells him: "I'm so sorry, I've forgotten it."
He throws a tantrum. Shouts a bit more. "I told you to bring it!!!"
She says: "I'm so sorry. I'll run up and explain to your teacher."
When she was gone I said: "Steady on James. It's not your mum's fault you've forgotten your homework. It's your fault."
He was insistent. "It's her fault. She said she would bring it."
I was severe. I said, "You're a very lucky boy to have a mother who is prepared to run after you. If Rex forgets his homework he has only himself to blame... "
But he didn't look at all appreciative. Instead he said - somewhat wistfully: "If I was in your house, you'd train me to remember my homework...."

Selfish Me!

2011-01-31T03:09:00.000-08:00

It's years since I got a pay check in Bahraini dinars - the last was when I was flying - and because I was young and single then with only myself to think about I spent the money frivilously: I'm still wearing the Cartier watch I bought then and a Betsy Johnson leopard print dress, and still sleeping on Ralph Lauren sheets...
So, what to do with my first Bahrain paycheck in thirteen years?
Old habits are hard to break.
I rushed from the stables to SAKS in the mall and bought a pot of Eve Lom cleanser:
With a powerful blend of Egyptian chamomile, hops, clove and eucalyptus oil, together with cocoa butter the Eve Lom Cleanser cleanses, tones, exfoliates all in one. Even the most stubborn make-up and eye make-up will be removed.
The specially woven muslin cloth (100% cotton) is used with the Cleanser to improve skin circulation while cleansing and exfoliating the skin in minutes.
The result is clean, perfectly balanced skin and a radiant complexion.
I'm ashamed to tell you how much it cost. It was utterly, outrageously expensive. And it smells a bit like saddle soap.
If I was anyways half decent as a wife I would hand over the money to the household accounts and use it to pay for the groceries, music lessons, riding lessons, Maud's tutor etc etc I could even afford a couple of new tyres for my car.
Maybe next month - heh?

"Anthem"

2011-01-29T06:31:00.000-08:00

The birds they sang
at the break of day
Start again
I heard them say
Don't dwell on what
has passed away
or what is yet to be.
Ah the wars they will
be fought again
The holy dove
She will be caught again
bought and sold
and bought again
the dove is never free.

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in.

We asked for signs
the signs were sent:
the birth betrayed
the marriage spent
Yeah the widowhood
of every government --
signs for all to see.

I can't run no more
with that lawless crowd
while the killers in high places
say their prayers out loud.
But they've summoned, they've summoned up
a thundercloud
and they're going to hear from me.

You can add up the parts
but you won't have the sum
You can strike up the march,
there is no drum
Every heart, every heart
to love will come
but like a refugee.

Leonard Cohen

Spook

2011-01-26T05:27:00.000-08:00

Frosty is almost 30 years old and his eyesight is not very good. At dusk shadows frighten him and in every lesson he spooks at least once with his rider. His great age ensures that the furthest he moves is two steps to left or to right but it's often enough to unseat a child, and so far in three days of teaching I've had one child fall off and a couple of near misses. Children are starting to say: "Please don't make me ride Frosty!"
I have to repackage the pony.
So I'm going to explain to the children (and their parents) that the arena is an artifical environment. When they hack out dogs will bark at their ponies, plastic bags will flap in the wind, boy racers will roar past with loud tooting - and their ponies will spook.
To prepare the children for spooking they will each get a chance to ride Frosty. If they can sit Frosty spooking and it doesn't frighten them half to death then they're ready to hack.
If they fall off it'll be gentle for Frosty comes up only to my elbow.

Beginner's Luck

2011-01-24T10:07:00.000-08:00

So yesterday was just lucky - today's pony club was a disaster. I suffered a shower of children who couldn't and wouldn't listen to a thing I was asking them to do. Who wanted only to trot wildly around the arena. Yet could not transition to walk without hauling on the reins. Who insisted they were ready for jumping when they could not rise to the trot. Who could not follow a simple instruction such as "Do not kick - your pony will bolt!" (and he did). Who disregarded such simple instructions as - "Please turn your head to the left if you're hoping to turn your pony to the left.... And close your right rein along the pony's neck" - preferring instead to haul on the left rein and beat the pony at the same time...
I learnt something valuable today.
The truly useless don't listen. This is why they are useless.

Falling

2011-01-24T00:53:00.000-08:00

My first afternoon teaching pony club was an educational experience - both for me and for one of my students. Sweet little Maisie fell off Frosty when they were trotting together - I picked her up, dried her tears and gave her leg up back into the saddle. I clipped on the lead rein to give her a confidence boost. I said: "Do you know how many times you have to fall off before you become a good rider?" She shook her head. I said, "10." She started to smile. "So I only have to fall off another 9 times to be a good rider?"
I nodded.
She gathered up the reins, sat up straighter; I unclipped the lead rein; she said "Walk on Frosty."
Soon they were trotting again and she was riding much better.
I said: "That's really good trotting, Maisie."
She said: "Before, I was afraid to fall. Now I'm not afraid any more."

If You Forget Me

2011-01-21T04:10:00.000-08:00

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.

Pablo Neruda

Grammar School

2011-01-19T20:38:00.000-08:00

I am a little confused by the current educational reforms in Northern Ireland. NI has always had a grammar school system and when I was a child all children sat the 11+ - the primary schools coached us to pass it. It was brutal but it was fair. Those who passed went to grammar school where academic expectation was exceedingly high -that's my school crest at the top - the inscription in Latin means Salt Flavours Everything...
Our new system follows a different ethos - and I'm quoting here from the booklet Transfer 2011 Advice for Parents:
Academic selection is educationally unsound. It does not meet the needs of a modern society. It sustains and generates inequality. It has no place in our education system.
Further in I read:
The Department has recommended that schools use their admissions criteria to make sure that they admit a fair number of children registered as entitled to Free School Meals
Correct me if I'm wrong, but this mean the NI education system is now financially selective not educationally selective?

Rain

2011-01-19T00:54:00.000-08:00

It's raining here in Bahrain. Bahrain + rain = chaos. Drains are full of sand, roads are flooded, drivers creep along with hazard lights flashing, and the roof of our villa has 500 leaks...
It's all right for me - I rather like it - but my kids are hopeless with rain. They've been expatriates for most of their lives, spending only the briefest of wet summers in Ireland (see photo above) - and they've not learnt the valuable art of keeping their feet dry on a wet pavement.
"Walk around the puddles, not in them!!"
"Look where you're going!"
"Being a spare pair of socks in your school bag."
Their soaking wet school shoes were stuffed with newspaper last night but since there's no heat in our house they were still wet this morning. I had to put them into the oven and gently toast them while making the porridge for breakfast

Gobbledegook

2011-01-17T02:35:00.000-08:00

I have received the following extraordinary message on my cellphone: Not c mila e2.bigay u no.margie.uwi naku bukas tapos na ang pag hihirap k d2.cenxa na. What does it mean? Is it a forgein language? Have I been contacted by aliens? Should I reply?

Abaya

2011-01-13T12:54:00.000-08:00

Nick and I had to go back to the hospital to get Rex's kidney blood results. We were going out for dinner afterwards and as I was dressed in a short shirt I wore an abaya over my clothes so as not to cause offence. (Also, it kept me warm). The staff were extremely kind in the hospital and when we got to the restaurant, Mezzaluna, Nick and I were taken to one of the VIP tables secluded in an alcove - I'm wondering now was it the abaya which got such a good table and such good service?

International Politics

2011-01-13T07:48:00.001-08:00

I took Rex to the doctor this afternoon - he has a chill in his kidney. We were sent to the lab for Rex to give blood - the lab technician was an Asian gentleman from some where on the sub continent.
Making polite conversation he asks us: "Where are you from? UK?"
I say: "We are from Ireland."
Rex says: "Actually we're from Northern Ireland."
And the bloke says: "Madam, your son is a Unionist."
He knew all about N. Irish politics and I couldn't tell you what country he comes from.

High Noon

2011-01-10T23:22:00.000-08:00

Already I'm suffering from bullying in the workplace and my job has only begun. I've got this charming wee job at the stables teaching riding to pony club children - bliss except that one of the other instructors really really doesn't like me (for no particular reason that I can think of for I don't believe we have ever even engaged in conversation - she's not really a woman who talks - I say "Good Morning" and she grunts)
Anyway she's started to rubbish my riding - last night she criticised me loudly and openly - and a gang of pony club mothers were listening.
"You're cutting that corner!"
"You changed rein far too sharply!"
"She's on the wrong leg!"
"Don't play in her mouth!"
(I promise these are riding terms - nothing kinky!)
Bahrain is a very small island and guess what - it's all over the playground this morning - "That rude instructor that nobody likes.... She was shouting at the new instructor last night..."
"OMG! And what did the new instructor say to her? Did she attack or retreat?"
Well, the answer is neither just yet -
I have made an appointment to speak formally to the stable manager at 5 this afternoon to tell her frankly it's 'that woman' or me.
And if that fails I suppose there will have to be a gunfight in the jumping paddock...

Happy Birthday Florence

2011-01-10T02:17:00.000-08:00

Nine years ago today I woke up with a pain in my tummy. Time for a bath, I thought, and I really must wash my hair. And blow it dry and slap on all of my makeup...
My mother phoned: "It's the due date," she said.
"And the baby is coming," I told her.
At the hospital a lovely young doctor with her handbag on her back told me I was 6cm dilated, and fully effaced - my cervix just had to stretch a bit more and then it would be action stations.
"Would you like me to stretch it to 10cm?" she asked me.
"Yes please."
And just like that I was ready to push. And two pushes later she was born. Precise and tidy and hard as nails with never any fuss about her.
Happy Birthday Florence.

New Year Resolution

2011-01-02T02:53:00.000-08:00

We resolve:
TO ALWAYS KNOCK THE BATHROOM DOOR BEFORE ENTERING
TO ALWAYS LOCK THE BATHROOM DOOR
TO ALWAYS FLUSH THE LAVATORY

Arms

2010-12-29T23:30:00.001-08:00

Apologies to those of you who don't know the back of a horse from the front, and frankly couldn't care less. Here are two photographs taken this morning of me riding my darling Al Kateef. In the top shot my arms are as stiff as pokers and look at poor Al Kateef's head. I think he's saying, "Ouch! You're hurting my mouth!"
In the second photo my instructor Hussein has come into the arena to shout a bit at me - (and wave his long whip around)and just look at the difference in Al Kateef and myself - now there's a straight line from elbow to bit and we're in tune with each other

Docking Station

2010-12-25T05:34:00.000-08:00

He asked me what I wanted for Christmas and I gave him a quite detailed list - a bottle of Un Jardin Sur Le Nil, a Sony HandyCam, a sports watch, Christmas edition of the Spectator, The Natural Confectionery Company's jelly dinosaur sweets, Hilary Mantel's Wolf Hall, Tefal's new chip pan - because years ago he bought me a collection of Alexander McCall Smith novels that I'd already read -
And what did I get for Christmas?
Yes, well, I didn't know what it was either.
He was very enthusiastic. He said, "I spent hours choosing this in the shop. I listened to all of them. This one is top of the line. It has the best sound quality."
"Yes, but what is it?"
"An iPod docking station."
"What's an iPod docking station?"

Team Tinsley

2010-12-21T06:24:00.000-08:00

Once Beatrice learns to rise to the trot and Rex recovers his bottle I'm thinking I might teach them how to play polo - if only I could be sure they'd use the mallets to strike only the ball and not each other...

A Christmas Carol

2010-12-20T01:08:00.000-08:00

I'm reading the children A Christmas Carol. They've been listening patiently enough but I've been wondering if perhaps it's too difficult for them to understand, what with the old fashioned language and adult themes.
So today we watched A christmas Carol The Musical with Kelsey Grammer as Scrooge...
And in the midst of all the singing they told me: "This is exactly the same as the book, Mum. Everything Mr. Scrooge says in the movie, he has already said in the book..."

Home Thoughts from Abroad

2010-12-16T05:06:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I wish I could fly home for Christmas. To frosty skies and roaring log fires. A hamper from Fortnum and Mason. Carol singers sipping mulled wine. The Christmas Day rerun of National Velvet. Then I read something like Republican Rudolf on-line from my local newspaper and I remember why I don't live in Northern Ireland any more...

Christmas Stocking

2010-12-15T06:14:00.000-08:00

Bahrain is an island with a busy seaport; ships from all over the world drop anchor. The children have each filled a stocking to give to four sailors for Christmas.
This is what they chose for each stocking:
Deodorant, shaving foam, razors, soap, toothbrush, toothpaste, chewing gum, sweeties and Vaseline.
The Vaseline was my idea - to stop the sailor's lips from chapping at sea.

Manners Maketh Man

2010-12-11T02:18:00.000-08:00

Manila: An act of gallantry paid huge dividends for a 'humble gentleman' who won $17million in a Philippine lottery after letting a woman jump a queue and buy what would have been his losing ticket.
The 63 year old winner's elation when collecting his money this week was tinged with empathy for the excited lady who pushed in front of him, the Lottery said. "The woman cut in. He was being very gentlemanly so he just stepped back and allowed her," said Philippine Charity Sweepstakes Office chair Margie Juico. "When he won he kept thinkig: how sad for that woman. She could have won the big prize if she had just been patient."

Tequila Christmas Cake

2010-12-04T05:28:00.000-08:00

1 cup sugar
1 tsp. baking powder
1 cup water
1 tsp. salt
1 cup brown sugar
Lemon juice
4 large eggs
Nuts
1 bottle tequila
2 cups dried fruit
Sample the tequila to check quality Take a large bowl; check the tequila again to be sure it is of the highest quality.
Repeat.
Turn on the electric mixer. Beat one cup of butter in a large fluffy bowl. Add 1 teaspoon of sugar. Beat again.
At this point, it is best to make sure the tequila is still OK. Try another cup just in case.
Turn off the mixerer thingy.
Break 2 eggs and add to the bowl and chuck iin the cup of dried fruit. Pick the fruit up off the floor.
Mix on the turner.
If the fried druit getas stuck in the beaterers, just pry it loose with a drewscriver.
Sample the tequila to test for tonsisticity.
Next, sift 2 cups of salt, or something.
Check the tequila. Now shift the lemon juice and strain your nuts.
Add one table. Add a spoon of sugar, or somefink. Whatever you can find.
Grease the oven.
Turn the cake tin 360 degrees and try not to fall over.
Don't forget to beat off the turner
Finally, throw the bowl through the window. Finish the tequila and wipe the counter with the cat.
Cherry Christmas
Enjoy