Sheep

I took this on the train from Nottingham to Glasgow.  It was a five hour journey and much of it was lovely.  This is somewhere in Cumbria, maybe Penrith.  I (and you may not believe this) was taking a photo of sheep.  The train was passing field after field of sheep and I thought "Cool, I should get a photo".

I rummaged  around (sheep sheep), got my phone (sheep sheep) held it up (sheep sheep) and took the photo (no sheep).  

And I swear I didn't see a single sheep from that point to Glasgow.

Well I exaggerate.  I got bored of waiting for the sheep to return after 10 mins, and put my camera away.

So this is a photo of an empty field, but immediately to the right - just out of the shot - there is a field absolutely packed with sheep.

The title stands. It's a metaphor.  Or metaphysical. Something.

Seized by Rhythm

Rhythm.  I don't have much, but what little I have finds it very hard to resist a marching band.

I blame my mum who, every year, dressed me up and had me follow the Mablethorpe Carnival Parade: Aged 4 - Little Bo Peep; Aged 5 - Mary Mary (quite contrary); Aged 6 - Turkish Delight girl; Aged 7 - Water Tap (hey there was a water a shortage, and I won Best in Parade for that outfit) and Aged 8 - Anne Boleyn (posthumous).

 Then I was too old to be cute and so I proudly followed bearing a flag and wearing a Brownie and then Girl Guide uniform.  I like uniforms too, but that's a whole other post.

 Anyway I caught a few minutes of the St Patrick's Day Parade in Nottingham - long enough to take a bad photo (above) and resist the seductive pull of several marching bands.  If I had let myself go I might still be lost; lying under bushes somewhere in darkest Nottinghamshire, mussed and twitching, with bits of green crepe paper in my hair.

Gratitude

This is my Gratitude Journal - every day I am supposed to write five things I am grateful for in order to remain focussed on life's positives.  I got the idea from a new (very inspirational and thought-provoking) friend on Facebook, Marike.

• I am grateful for inspirational and thought-provoking friendships.

The journal is a lined exercise book with a firm card cover, wrapped in a really soft cloth that snaps shut with a very satisfying way.  The pen is a Cross and has my name engraved in the centre.  My husband bought me both for Christmas.

• I am grateful for a generous and loving husband who knows not only that a pen and a journal will please me but also that having my name engraved on the pen and choosing a book wrapped in soft cloth with the perfect snap makes the difference between a wonderful gift and the perfect gift.

Did you notice that they are green?  I find myself suddenly smitten with green, he knows that too - it is a relatively recent love affair, but he picked it up quickly.

• I am grateful that my husband is quick to notice the new things that please me.

I am wrote in it two or three times in January and then I stopped because our cleaner moved it from its position next to my bed to a new location underneath a pile of books on my dressing table.  I am disappointed that - as so often happens with  resolutions and intentions born over the New Year period when change, growth and self-improvement is at the forefront of our minds - what was so enthusiastically and determinedly taken up was so quickly and carelessly forgotten.

• I am grateful that I have a cleaner, even if she is a bit rubbish sometimes.
• And I am grateful that I have a big pile of books on my dressing table - I may complain about clutter, but having the material wherewithal to have clutter to complain about is a blessing.

But failing to do one thing doesn't make me a failure and I am able to forgive myself.  I can start again, and again and (if necessary) again until this becomes routine or I can find other ways of being consciously and specifically grateful for the many good things in my life.

• I am grateful for the ability to forgive myself.
• I am grateful for the fact I have choices and I am able to recognise them.

The reason I raise this now is because on Tuesday I looked for the pen (picture above) that in a sense 'came with' the journal I couldn't find it, and for a short period I feared it was lost which was very distressing.

Stuff isn't important, but the meaning behind stuff is.  This pen in particular has a very powerful meaning for me as when Dom gave me the pen I was upset because I thought we couldn't afford it.  I find it very hard to accept expensive gifts - even modestly expensive ones like this.  Although Dom and I have discussed and dealt with my difficulty accepting gifts of value before it is one of those things that comes back and has to be rediscussed repeatedly.

So you can imagine the idea that I had lost this very precious gift was even more painful.

• I am grateful for the reminder that I have treasures that must be taken care of even if those reminders are painful.
• I am grateful that if the lesson needs to be repeated it usually is.
• I am grateful for Dom's patience.

But I found it, and - to cut a long story short - I am very grateful...

for friendships and inspiration
for a clean yet cluttered house
for the pen and my name engraved in silver
for the lessons in giving and receiving and losing and regaining
for the colour green and notebooks covered in soft cloth
for my loving and patient husband who thinks of details

I may even start writing in my journal again.

The Management

I don't know if the CID wear blue shirts, but EFL teachers do.  I have always had this mental correlation between my male English teaching colleagues and plain clothes policemen that I am pretty sure is based on the very tenuous idea I have that when they aren't wearing uniforms the boys in blue ARE actually wearing blue shirts.

I am - in D&D alignment terms - lawful good, and so I am predisposed to like policemen and managers.  And it is a predisposition isn't it? Groups of people (as opposed to individuals) are either good or evil, depending on you... not them.

I like these guys lots, but that is because I have known them for years - and not just a consequence of my natural (and yes, slightly sycophantic) fetish for authority.  I won't print names but they are our current Assistant Teaching Centre Manager (seated) and our two Branch Managers. They aren't normally this amusingly hard-at-work but were faking it for my photo - being more commonly slumped with their head in the hands and some evil financial spreadsheet in front of them.

Look at those post-its though - organization, we haz it.

Sweetly weird

No matter how long you have lived in Thailand (sixteen years if you are asking) there are some things that never stop being weird. Taxi drivers plucking their facial hair away with tweezers while stuck in traffic, girls talking on the phone while sitting on the toilet, ice in beer are examples that spring to mind.  A lot of people get used to the last one quite  quickly, but others don't.  I guess all Thai quirks are personal and subjective; easy to assimilate or or not depending on your personality and experiences.  Nothing is inherently more weird than anything else in a global sense.

Thai puddings were weird for me for a long time.  Before living in Thailand I was used to food that divided obediently into two camps dinner (savoury) and dessert (sweet).  Thai food is known for its heady mix of sweet, salt, sour and spice which results in some delicious main meals like Tom Yum (spicy sour soup) and Som Tam (green papaya and veggies chopped and shredded  and mixed with chilli, garlic, fish sauce and palm sugar).  We know a little sweetness in our dinner adds to experience.

But the flip-side is that savoury items sometimes show up in sweet things and this takes a little more time to get used to; a pinch of salt in lime juice and a twist of salt, sugar and chilli with a bag of fresh pineapple.  The desserts themselves often contain items which I think should remain on the other side of the pudding fence like sweetcorn and black soya beans (photos below). I think it was 3 years teaching in St Gabriel's and eating sparse (if you are vegetarian)  school dinners that did it.  I started eating the desserts with long teeth under sufferance that gradually and almost imperceptibly became pleasure. I knew I was here for the long haul when I slid my metal prison tray along the rails and thought "Mmm green noodles in iced coconut milk, my favourite."

So although I am used to it, this sweetly weird country still surprises me.  Especially when - like in the menu above taken in a very western style cafe yesterday the little bit of Thai weird is hidden among more mainstream favourites.  Mmmm, waffles and ice cream with a choice of toppings:  butter and maple syrup... chocolate and banana... mix 5 colour beans... mango and... wait, what was that third one, beans?!

    

He thinks he is hiding

He really is ridiculous.