Finally fizzled away! New comments up soon.

I was interested to watch the live broadcasts on Sky News yesterday from Mecca. Lisa Aziz was standing high above the crowds and this was what she had to say:
"You will notice the sea of white down below as 2 million people gather for the Haj pilgrimage. Dressing in white is to show that we are all equal at this holiest of times."
Obviously Lisa didn't look closely enough because I saw quite a few black specks amongst that 'sea of white'. Were these people not as equal? Who were they? MMMM...I wonder!

A friend asked me to purchase a specific bikini when I go to the UK. Now this is never a problem as I know the difficulties facing 'us girls' over here. However, yesterday C.... rushed into my room, "Lynne, hold fire I've just put a bid on a red one on Ebay!"
Now this is totally new to me but it has created such fun and hilarity for us over the last 2 days. The bids are now totalling 11 but C..... is still in there holding all challengers at bay (e...bay)! I know how determined she can be so I would recommend that the rest drop out now because she means business.
So I won't be looking for bikinis in England? Don't be silly, she hasn't got the pink one and surely we can't have too many bikinis, can we girls?

...and I'm impressed! He bangs it, slaps it, slurps it and after all that the food looks utterly delicious. It seems so basic but it's the sort of food you would love to sit down and eat.
Thus inspired we went to the 'pot shop' tonight (opposite the 'dead goat' shop, as featured in a previous Blog entry) to purchase a ...wok! We have just finished chopping, slicing, dicing, throwing (with the occasional tossing) and soon after a meal appeared on the plate.
Now this is quite an achievement as last night the meal required two hard boiled eggs. Would you believe eight eggs later I still couldn't get one that wasn't running like the Yangtze River. Yep, she couldn't even boil an egg.

I will avidly read any book that has something to do with Chinese history.
In the Summer I read a glowing review on a book called Soul Mountain by Gao Xingjian. It promised to be of the right genre that would keep me turning those pages.
You can therefore, understand that when I eventually had a copy in my hands I would be reading into the small hours. By page 48 my brain was doing intellectual gymnastics as I tried to follow, or indeed find, the thread of the story. I realise, before you enlighten me with your own insights, that he is in search of the areas of Chinese culture that are rapidly disappearing. To assist my understanding I went back to the introduction and there it was, the explanation to guide me through this particular literary labyrinth. I quote:
' A rigorous and critical analysis of the self of one man is achieved by dissecting the authorial self into the singular pronouns 'I', 'you', 'she' and 'he', who together constitute the complete protagonist.'
There, now doesn't that make it all so very clear? DUH!

This afternoon I put the book down and watched Bridget Jones's Diary yet again! Now we're talking!

I have a bit of a problem which I hope all of you style diva's out there will help me with. You see I gave up wearing 'tights' when I came to Saudi because of the heat. Legs get easily tanned and so there is absolutely no need to wear them.
As I am going to the UK shortly, and it will be cold, I will have to get used to wearing them again. What I can remember of the sensation of those lycra ones is a bit like one of those junkyard compressor machines that can turn a tank into a battered metal sheet in one crunch! If you get the ones with less grip and cling they succumb, big time, to gravitational pull. AND then there are those ones that are too snug on the hips and economical on the length. You end up walking around all day like Roy Rogers without Trigger!
So what do you suggest I go for?

I have drunk deeply from the well of health and fitness and this morning saw me on the racquet ball court screaming, "I'm a GIRL!" as the ball bounced wildly around the court! It ricocheted from one wall to another, whizzing past my head until I was frozen to the spot like a rabbit caught in the beam of a car's headlights.
After fifteen minutes I started to get the hang of the game and actually smashed the ball into the wall one shot in every five; progress indeed.
Yesterday's party was great fun and if you manage to find this site George, welcome and drop by again (don't look too closely at the photography).

I was amazed to realise that the peculiar popping sounds that I heard yesterday afternoon, were enormous raindrops hitting the window. The sky was grey and fierce and a strong wind was blustering round the villa. The wind chimes were giving a frenzied rendition of the 1812 Overture accompanied by the banging of the gate. Real weather, a change from the year round blue skies and heat.
So there was only one thing to do, snuggle up indoors and revisit one of my favourite films. (Hah, NOT Sliding Doors!) Recently, I never seem to tire of watching I Am Sam. The acting and music are superb and when Sean Penn shouts "You are the red in her painting. You are the red!", I sit blubbering and snorting, Phil wipes one manly tear from his cheek.

Well it doesn't look as if I will manage to finish my 26 Things 2. I really tried hard but some of the categories were so difficult for me to find something of interest to photograph; especially as most of the photographic opportunities outside the compound require the sort of covert operations that would be the envy of a crack team of swarthy SAS blokes.
This would have been my entry for the category entitled 'Red'.



I'm back at work now and my time in Cyprus is a rapidly fading memory, albeit a very pleasant memory. However, the good news is that in just three weeks we will be in London and Leicester for the Graduation. I am really looking forward to seeing Edward!

Does anyone else out there enjoy watching Oprah Winfrey? I think it may be a 'woman thing' because 90% of her programmes are interesting, entertaining and quite pertinent to situations in my life; Phil slopes off muttering to himself whenever I settle down to an hour with Oprah.
Yesterdays programme dealt with ageing and our ability to deal with issues of sagging and sinking! It also consisted of make-overs for two ladies stuck fashion-wise in the 70's and 80's. The message coming over loud and clear was that we have it within ourselves, to turn our lives around and change to whoever we so chose. AND it was made to seem so easy that I gave it more than a passing thought.
We are all complex beings and I am totally convinced that most of us have a duality. By this I mean we are one thing on the outside but inside we have a desire to be something other than the face that we show the world.
I embarked on launching my new self at yesterdays party. I was going to be calm, serene, a listener standing on the side-lines, interested in all of the other guests. So can someone please explain why within thirty minutes I was stomping around the deck area and doing an impromptu duet with a work colleague, being generally loud and hyper?
Sorry Oprah, I'll try harder at next weekends party.

I tidied a drawer out just before I left our home in Cyprus. Tucked away at the back was something that was guaranteed to bring memories flooding back; wave upon wave!
When my mother died last Christmas we were left with items personal to my parents but of no significant monitory value. I asked Edward to select things that he wanted and he knew exactly what they would be. He asked for the cuckoo clock. This was an excellent choice because it always made us laugh that it only went 'cuck' and had lost its 'oo' years before! He also decided upon the barometer that his grandfather used to tap every day and then pronounce that it would be 'changeable'.
I grew up with a father under the same roof but who worked tirelessly, often doing double shifts. He would return home from work speechless from exhaustion, we were separated by his need for work and money. My mother used to scold my brother, "Just you wait until your father gets home!" But it was me who waited. It was almost as if I spent my childhood waiting for him to come home. I can almost remember every precious moment that he spent with me.
The memento that I had chosen to keep was his very worn and frayed flat-cap. I could see myself as a child riding high on his shoulders clutching that very hat in my hands to steady myself as he galloped around the garden.
The hat went back into the drawer but this time placed at the top; it gets easier with time.

I tidied out my school bag today in true Life Laundry fashion. This term I am using the flowery Harrods plastic cloth bag, you can't possibly fit in all of my clutter into a briefcase.
The new items in my bag this year are two Athens Olympic Games notebooks and of course a 2004 diary. Although I feel that I have embraced new technology I am still a pen and paper sort of person, often writing out longer Blogs in long-hand first. The diary is an indispensable tool and accompanies me everywhere at work; if lost I'm sure that my life would fall apart at the seams. What I would love is one of those neat little electronic jobbies where you can still write on a screen, you know what I mean.

...So we arrived at the hotel in Amman to pick up 'the wagon' (4X4), a simple procedure, or so you would think. Well yes, you are ahead of me, they had lost the car! We knew it hadn't been stolen because they still had the keys; they had just misplaced it! Eventually we discovered that it had been locked in a small underground garage area with other vehicles that were considered a security risk. Problem solved? Not quite, they had now lost the key to the garage! Some time later our very dusty wagon was released and at last we were on our way yet again.
The first stop was for petrol in a remote settlement just north of Ma'an. Phil got out and was suddenly accosted by an angry Arab who threw a stone at him!! Oh, okay just a little exaggeration, the stone was meant for a goat and Phil got in the way but never-the-less not a nice welcome! Then to add insult to injury (quite literally), they had run out of benzene!
Off we went again and not long before another garage was seen on the opposite side of the road so a little rough off-roading was needed before we could pull up in front of a pump. Not much could go wrong now surely; wrong. In the process of filling up the tank the guy managed to spray Phil with petrol! Now think Victor Meldrew and "I don't believe it!"
So is that it? Well..........

I’m sure you are familiar with the expression that things come in threes, but when the Scates’ hit the trail they come in multiples of three! I won’t regale you with the minor details of the twelve Jordanian men being deported back to Jordan on our flight or the stewardess who was suffering quite loudly, from air sickness (try tucking into your hot brioche and croissant with that going on) because I’m sure that’s not as interesting as our arrival in Amman.
It began with ‘the battle for the bags’ as the conveyor belt began! The miscellany of items that people travel with never fails to amaze me or the condition of their luggage. However, I digress, it wasn’t long before I heard the raised voice of my significant other, proclaiming that the suitcase, which had been taken away by immigration was ours and what the bleep were they doing with it? They wanted it open and obviously they wanted to inspect its contents. Thank goodness all of the ‘under-things’ were clean. Now Phil does not handle these situations too well and began to be more concerned that the driver, who was picking us up, should not leave without us. So I was dispatched out through customs and immigration to inform the man in question. Only when in the arrivals lounge did I realise that my passport was with Phil on the other side. Not good when you are a lone female in a Middle Eastern country!
After twenty minutes Phil popped his head around a screen and in true stoic Oats fashion informed me that he “might be a while!” What did that mean, five minutes, an hour, a week? Just as I was about to announce very loudly and in my most imperious BBC accent that I needed the British Consulate and I needed him NOW, Phil trundled through with a trolley-load of luggage, declaring to anyone interested, that they wanted to detain him for trying to bring in five boxes of illegal substances.
Yes, we confess! …AND the items in question? Four boxes of Cuppa Soup and a packet of Migraleve.

What a party!



Look who's alive and living in Cyprus!



It was a fabulous party but now we are packing up for the flight back. Be with you on Saturday.