Blood red

My aunt is sick. She can't take any more chemo. The poison seems to be hurting her more than it is hurting the cancer. She had to have a blood transfusion yesterday. I wonder whose blood is running through her veins. I wonder if they realise the true value of what they have done by donating their own blood to a stranger. I wonder if they appreciate how much their act is valued by us, those who love her.

My Mama is going to London tomorrow, then Zagreb on Thursday. I am glad. She needs to be with her sister. I tell my Mama to pass on my love, to tell her that I hope to see her in June. My Mama replies "God willing." I hope, I hope, I hope.

P M T

I am so glad I got that grump out of the way before my visitor descends. Now I just have the agony of cramps for a few days. By the time he arrives, I will by grump and cramp free.

Today is warm and sticky with some sunshine and high humidity. Although my hair is rapidly becoming what can only be described as ridiculous, my skin is wonderful, as are all my mucous membranes. The first time they have been this happy.

I decided to take a break from writing while my eldest brother, Mil, reviews my first draft. I found I couldn't. I was inspired with an idea and wrote almost 8,000 words today. I have other ideas, all of which shall be sent when I have completed them.

Everything has a silver lining.


Mil's blogs: about Mil, 21st Century Fix and Cogwriter.

Twins

I've been waking up at 5.10am, every morning for the last week and I have no idea why. This is very unusual for me. I am normally a great little sleeper. This morning, therefore, found me insanely grumpy, for all of about 10 minutes until my housemate managed to distract me with his endless chatter, though I am left with the residue of a grump which I think will remain in my system for some hours yet.

Ever since the London bombings, uneasy nights have bothered me. For two weeks before those, I would wake every night following nightmares of bloody, dismembered bodies and I would see limbs all around my room. For two weeks beforehand and no longer. They stopped the night of the bombs. I never had anything like that since. I am sure one week of uneasy nights are nothing, but still, they make me slightly uncomfortable.

I was reading My Sister's Keeper last night too, which didn't help. I dreamed I was about seven years old again and I was with my twin sister and I was telling people I had leukaemia. I was crying, but more for my sister's loss, than for mine. The twin relationship is a very special one, something that I am not sure singlets really get. It is special and wonderful, but you do get used to that person being there always and that is not always a good thing. You have to try much harder to learn about being on your own and being your own person, because as a child everyone refers to you as 'the twins' and you get cards for the pair of you, rather than one each, so you start to send cards from both of you, rather than one each. You want to be on your own, yet you want to take your twin with you. You worry about yourself, but you worry more about your twin. Their well-being and happiness must be ensured (or at least on the horizon) in order for yours to be complete. The relationship between the sisters in this book reminded me very much of the twin relationship and I woke up missing mine.

I must be due on. I am never this grumpy usually.

Kid in the red sleeves

I took this one in the Man Mo Taoist temple on Hollywood Road. I love it in there. The air is full of smoke from the enormous incense coils hanging from the ceiling - signs telling you to be careful of ash falling on your head. People come in and out, waving incense sticks in the air and leaving fruit and flowers as gifts. Occasionally you hear the gong, when someone has made a donation. There is free incense provided near the altars and expensive incense to the right. I don't understand why people would buy, when there is incense for free. The atmosphere is busy, yet if you sit on the straight-backed wooden chairs on the right and the left of the temple, no-one bothers you, no-one notices you. It is peaceful.

The temple is to Man, the God of Literature and to Mo, the God of War.

Start from zero

I love this 'start from zero' graffiti. No idea if it's an ad for a club night, or just graffiti, or what, but I love it.

 
So next is a cute little water hydrant.

A gaggle of baby tree people

It is cold and very windy here. This is the only thing of note. It has been raining pretty much all day. I did a half hour of yoga on the roof this morning and then the wind made me fall over, so I decided it was time to go indoors.

The wind is so strong that at lunchtime the trees fell over on the balcony (they're in big pots, not growing out of the balcony itself - the wind was not that strong). I had to rush out in the first pair of shoes I could find easily (not mine actually, I looked like a clown in what I think are possibly size tens) and rescue the poor little things. I raised them back to vertical and pushed them to the far left, as far away from the wind as possible and they are still huddled there in the dark, like a little gaggle of baby tree people hiding in the corner. I'll be able to see them from my bedroom window as I am curled up, warm, under my duvet, and I will feel sorry for them in the cold... It's like being on the top deck of Titanic out there, so invigorating and free, but it is very cold too. I am glad I am not a tree.

What a random world

I discovered some random things today.

1. It is impossible to name a folder 'con' on a machine using Windows.
2. If you type 'Bush hid the facts' without the quotes into notepad and save it, close and reopen it, the words change to this: 畂桳栠摩琠敨映捡獴. Can anyone tell me what this means? (I do hope it's not rude).

Thanks. 

Gecko and the Oreos

I found out today that Oreos have no butter or milk in them, to my initial joy.

Lying in bed, peacefully asleep, I woke to the sound of clicking and scratching outside in the lounge. At first I think Freddie, then of the girl in The Ring (given the size of the TV here). Then I thought to myself (despite feeling like a small child again): "Don't be ridiculous. You're a grown woman. Use some logic."

I thought perhaps it might have been the doorbell, which I know does not make a bell-like sound, more of a cracking sound, though what someone would be doing this time of night ringing my bell... Maybe my book delivery from England. Who knows how package deliveries work here? I bravely opened my bedroom door and there it was again: the clicking. I peered through the spy-glass of the front door: no-one. I lifted the mat in case they'd put a card under the door and it had got stuck: nothing. I opened the front door (hiding behind it) and looked down for a package: nothing. Then I thought perhaps the next door neighbour dropping something - the walls are like paper. No. His grille was closed.

There it was again: the clicking. Then a rustle. Now I didn't imagine that sound! I switched on the lights and headed to the loo. Might as well go, now I am awake. As I passed through the kitchen, the Oreos packet on the sideboard moved. I looked again and it moved again. A sudden rustle and a clicking sound. That was the sound. Then I noticed. Gecko clearly likes Oreos too and had got herself stuck in the transparent outer wrapper. I carefully removed the individually wrapped trios of Oreo and eased her out of her invisible prison. With a final click, she scurried behind the fridge. Honestly who'd have thought an innocent Oreo could cause so much trouble?

And why is the flat clicking so much this evening...?

Moving the rock

Change is frightening, but it is also a wonderful thing. The energy required to facilitate change is tough - like starting a rock rolling down a hill - but once change starts to happen, it gets a lot easier. We spend years holding the rock up so it doesn't roll and plants start to grow underneath it, so any movement requires a big shove. We don't set the course of the rock, merely have to give that almighty shove after checking out what paths it could go down... It will most likely find its own way though, regardless of which way you push it. Once you have shoved, movement is inevitable.

Clouds in my living room

Now why, whenever I try to write 'living room' does it always come out 'loving room' first time? Slip of the fingers, or more meaningful?

I was working on the roof terrace today, as usual. After a while I noticed the clouds descending and the temperature was cooler - tiny shorts and a t-shirt no longer warm enough. I was cold.

I headed back downstairs and saw, to my surprise, that the living room was full of cloud. A most peculiar experience. White cloud, cool and damp, filling the entire living room. I sit here now and, of course, the clouds have dissipated, but it is windy outside still. Cool and windy. We had a little rain today too - first for me since I left the UK.

I miss the dry heat of Thailand and my friend Kathy. I had hoped to visit her in Chiang Mai over Songkran, but it seems I can only get there via Bangkok and I'm not so sure about heading to that city right now. Maybe somewhere else in Thailand or maybe in a few months. I have Thai baht still. I have to go back sometime...