Alula and I decided that to mark the end of days (ahem) we would spend an entire day in Ubud doing everything we loved most. As it turned out that mainly involved eating. Before we left the house we wrote a bucket list of the best things to do in Ubud. And yes, that does …
I was getting depressed thinking about all the billion and one things I’m going to miss about Bali; dragon fruit, Kadek, friends, Margaritas delivered to my door (both the pizza and the tequila variety), the mango and banana and papaya trees in the garden, the offerings to Ganesha, the hazy smell of incense, the sun, the …
I’m busy ordering feather pillows and silk thermals online for our return to England. Let’s put that into perspective. We don’t yet have a house to live in. I think my feather pillows might be a little premature unless I plan to use them to make the pavement more comfy. I have a feeling psychologists …
It’s ten pm. The lights are off. I’m sitting on the bed watching Mad Men. Beside me Alula splays in sleep, indifferent to the charms of Donald Draper. All of a sudden the soft sound of Jenga blocks tumbling over startles me. I hit the pause button on my laptop. It was probably a mouse, …
John and I are discussing over instant messenger the offer I’ve just had from a publisher to turn this blog into a book. In the light of the offer I’ve been reading back over the blog posts from when I first started blogging almost five years ago to the day now. I’ve been laughing over …
‘Did she do a voice like in the exorcist?’ I ask, my eyes bugging wide. Komang nods, though I’m not sure he’s seen The Exorcist. ‘Yah,’ he says. To be sure he’s really understood me I do my own impression. ‘You must not wear short-sleeves!’ I say in a scary demon voice. Komang nods, ‘Yah, …
My heart is hurting. It’s aching in my chest. I feel a state of panic. Adrenaline coming in fits and starts. How can I leave this? How is it possible? What am I thinking? The days are like this at the moment. I make a decision to go. The next day I change my mind. …
‘I repeat your order, OK?’ I look around in panic at everyone else at the table but they’re all locked in conversation. Mightily convenient. It’s an unspoken rule in restaurant / cafe situations that at least one of the people at the table listens to the waiter repeat back the order. It’s a good practice …
Perhaps it’s because I’ve finally started venturing out of the house after a bout of dengue (that’ll please all the folk who sent me black magic curses) or perhaps it’s just because living in a small town you are eventually, by the law of statistics, bound to have run-ins with the people you have blogged …
You may or may not remember about a year ago our Western neighbours started running these “tantric sound healing workshops” (I use inverted commas because I think they would be better described as ‘fleece the naive soul seekers workshops”) from out of their house, a house I hasten to add, that has no walls. Aside …
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