Alula has been doing her best impression of Damien from the Omen these last few weeks. And when I say ‘impression’ I mean that she follows the method acting school of thought. Being Ubud, most people’s first response when I appear weeping before them, pouring the valium down my throat is – ‘Have you taken …
I am sitting amidst a pile of cellophane wrappers and discarded shoes – plastic tweety pie emblazoned fake crocs, Disney Princess bow-clad horrors with heels, sparkly beaded flip flops. I am in tears. ‘If you don’t choose a pair of damn shoes by the time I count to ten I am going to send you …
Two four year olds stand before me, hands on hips. ‘Is there Birthday cake?’ one demands. ‘Yes.’ ‘Is the Cake Raw?’ the other asks. ‘No.’ ‘Is the cake Vegan. Because I’m Vegan,’ says the other. ‘No.’ ‘Well, what will I eat?’ ‘Um…'(I don’t know but I’m thinking there’ll be more cake for me). I walk …
Here’s the cliff notes version of the last four days… Singapore airport ‘I’d like to check in for my flight to Bali please.’ ‘Sorry your daughter’s passport is three days under the six months validity required to enter Indonesia.’ ‘You’re kidding right? Kidding yes? Right?’ ‘No, sorry ma’am. Please step away from the counter.’ On …
For those of you who’ve followed us since the beginning you’ll remember that our reasons for leaving the UK were numerous. We wrote these reasons on post-its and stuck them on the wall of our bedroom in south east London before we decided to up stix and get the hell out of dodge. The reasons …
When we were travelling, moving around every few days or weeks, Alula started displaying worrying behaviour traits. Every time we would arrive in a new hotel or guest house she’d gather up a random assortment of belongings – her toys, hairbrushes, shells, books, her tutu, her Barbies – and place them all in a carrier …
‘Kadek’s good at making pancakes,’ Alula says, ‘but she can’t even do a puzzle.’ It’s true. She can’t. And this being the Easter holidays this means I am without child-acceptable child care. Or I was. Until a manny fell into my lap. I have a manny. Well I don’t. Alula does. And for free. I’m …
I love that Alula is growing up somewhere so full of magic and wonder. Where she runs around school barefoot, singing songs about love and thanking the mother earth and father sun for her lunch. Where at night she counts geckos not sheep. In the mornings she wakes up and squawks ‘cockadoodledoooo’ at the top …
Today has been magical. I tried to think what particular thing was making me feel so happy and in the end I realised it was the sum of its parts. A morning cuddle with Alula where we argued about who loved each other more and I won again (because Alula hasn’t quite understood the concept …
Alula and I are talking over a soft boiled egg and soldiers. Alula do you remember travelling? Er, no. You don’t remember anything – anything at all? No. What about living in India – remember the beach? Remember going to school with Dumpie? Um, no… I remember Egg though. (her first big crush) What about …
