Finally, I have worked out how to set up a new page. I must be getting old for it took me forever. Anyway, the link is this Photography All comments eagerly expected and welcomed. Hopefully more to follow, time permitting, of course…
A builder, a builder, my kingdom for a builder
Now I’m not a difficult person. I don’t ask for very much. I don’t want diamonds or extravagant holidays. I try to see the positive in everything and have vision. However if anyone had told me what was in store for me at Marlborough Cottage after we purchased it I think I would have been a touch nervous. We moved in over ten years ago and we were very aware that the kitchen and downstairs bathroom would need to be replaced at some point and that the whole cottage needed renovating. At the time I had such vision and really imagined that three years on we would have a beautiful cottage but as usually happens life takes over. Money was not available and everything seemed to cost more than we could ever have imagined. After decorating the whole house we felt that other things could wait and we could live adequately in Marlborough cottage as it was. This was not always a happy state of affairs. Our first winter was like something out of the film ‘Ethan Frome’ and if you haven’t seen that film, then you really must.’My hands cold as ice’ (Mattie from ‘Ethan Frome’) Our bedroom, quaint if not cold.
In our bathroom my hands tits and bum ‘cold as ice’ I kid you not. I swear if you do not pee quickly it will turn to ice mid-stream. My shower gel has iced up in the can before now. I see you shaking your head. It is true. The only heating in the bathroom is a little fan thing on the wall and that has to go on at least forty minutes before a shower. After a few weeks I devise the perfect routine. First put bath towel in tumble dryer for thirty minutes before shower and fan heater on about twenty minutes before shower and then quick dive into bathroom and under the hot water where skin tingles from going to one extreme to the other. Jump from shower, wrap hot towel around oneself and dive into warm living room. What a palaver. But we managed to survive. The other problem in the winter became the night time wee. The bedroom is also freezing and the only saving grace is the electric blanket which I assure you has stayed on number one all night this winter. Andrew and I must have more cuddles than any couple I know. A horrified friend warned me this could be dangerous, not the cuddling, of course, but the blanket. Andrew is not that electrifying in bed, well he might be, but I wouldn’t tell you now, would I? There is a risk of electrocution she advised. I assured her the risk of frost bite was even higher. Having once braved the loo in the night and returning to bed like an ice cube I decided drastic action was needed. Let’s say I devised a little loo for us upstairs. I won’t go into more detail. Then, of course there is the kitchen. I don’t have a kitchen in the winter. I have just one big freezer. The olive oil in my cupboard is currently frozen as is the peanut butter and honey. Oh, it is not a joke. On Sunday I convinced Andrew to help me prepare dinner because more than fifteen minutes in the kitchen means you cannot chop carrots or onions, especially if they have been in the fridge. I got as far as the garlic and could no longer feel my fingers. We almost collided with each other in our rush to dive back into the warm living room. Oh, you are pitying me, I can feel it. The waves of pity are just penetrating through the virtual world of the internet. But I get to be very close to my lovely hubby if nothing else. At least the cold is better than the rain which floods in under the back door. In the winter at least the bathroom is not plagued by wood lice. You see, one can always find the positive. In an attempt to keep warm I light lots of candles. Perhaps not the most sensible thing seeing as this house has a history of fires. It’s okay it is safe to read on but only just. About 89 years ago poor Miss Marshall lit a candle in her bedroom, the same bedroom which is now ours. Our neighbour now 92 remembers it well.
‘Smoke was billowing from the window and we rushed to get in. The next thing I remember was Miss Marshalls charred body falling through the ceiling and landing on your living room floor.’
Now that does make you shiver? and I won’t lie and say we have not heard noises from upstairs because sometimes we have. The lounge where Miss Marshall fell to her death Another blog posting I think. Then, of course there is the odd case of the house deeds which were strangely lost in a fire at the solicitors. Our predecessor’s Molly and Clifford had two fires in the freezing lean to which I referred to earlier. Then there was the day that yours truly nearly went up in flames. Andrew was upstairs working. I had just showered and quickly grabbed my flowery flowing skirt that tied at the waist. It was a bit chilly so I decided to light some candles to warm the place up. I only meant to warm the place up, you understand, but someone else obviously had other intentions of warming me up. I had already lit those on the fireplace and was lighting the few I had put on the coffee table when I had a strange hot sensation in my leg. I ignored it, as you do. I then went to rub it only to find my skirt was on fire. Of course I can write calmly about this now. I frantically tried to untie the knot of the tie-up that held my skirt while repeatedly calling Andrew. God help me the damn thing was knotted. I began to frantically tug at it to get it over my hips, while the flames were licking further and further up my skirt. 
‘Andrew,’ I screamed hysterically. No response. ‘Andrew, help me, please.’
No response. Oh my god I was going to burn alive like Miss Marshall. I ran dramatically towards the wall almost knocking myself out. Smoke was everywhere along with floating pieces of my skirt as Andrew opened the door at the bottom of the stairs. He did not rush, it seems, because he thought I had seen a spider or a dead mouse. I ask you! Trust me I do not scream hysterically when I see a mouse or even a spider. When I am burning to death I may have a tendency to scream hysterically, justified I think.
I swore never to have candles in the house again. But of course I lapsed. A few years went by and they were no more fire incidents so I put it down to bad luck. Then only a few months ago when Andrew was in Taiwan, Bendy and I were sitting cosily on the couch when there was a strange bang from upstairs. Bendy jumped onto the coffee table almost knocking over a vase of flowers. I jumped up to catch them, throwing the cushion I was using to lean my net book upon, straight onto the candles on the table.
Gently stroking Bendy I realised there was a burning smell. I looked behind me to see the cushion on fire. I quickly doused it with water and sighed when I saw the large hole. Was this Miss Marshall striking again? We never did find out what the bang was. But we are brave here and do not give in to ghosts and still light candles. Full blog posting on this here. Are you over your trembling, shall I continue. Okay, Onto less frightening house complications.
Last summer we replaced the front and back doors. Ten years on and we started thinking we really should do more. The past few years we got side tracked with family weddings, trips abroad, Andrew’s studies which seemed to go on forever but yay he finally graduated to Dr Cook in August Andrew's graduation and there was a sigh of relief all round. So, this year is the year of the builder or at least so we thought. We phoned the builder who had built a new home for our neighbours and he seemed very keen. 
‘I’ll pop to see you,’ he said.
Three weeks later we phoned again to see if he was still interested.
‘Oh, yes, I’ll pop round on Friday.’
And he did and he advised us of an architect whom we contacted.
‘I’ll pop a quote in the post for you this week.’
A week later we went on holiday for two weeks. We returned, still no quote. We phoned, no answer, we left a message, no response. Perhaps he is sick or something, I said sympathetically. Oh, I am so innocent.
Andrew not so innocent phoned several other builders to get as many quotes as possible. Meanwhile, we had the plans drawn up and applied for planning permission. Still no quote. Then the lovely Julian came. He was very impressive and spent a long time with us.
‘I’ll put a quote in the post. You should have it before Christmas.’
We got planning permission. Christmas came, Christmas went. We flew to Cambodia and flew home to NO QUOTES. I was in tears.
‘We will never get a builder.’
‘Things take time,’ Andrew advises ‘It may take a few weeks.’
A few weeks! I am beginning to think these builders work on years. Three months later we ask more builders for quotes, we ask our friends if they know builders. Andrew begins to talk of doing it himself.
‘I’ll take a week off work,’ he says with a grin.
Not funny!
Another builder visits. He doesn’t even ask to see where the extension will go but from the plans assures us it will not be a problem.
‘I’ll pop the quote in the post.’
Haven’t we heard that before?
Another visits and thinks we want an extension to cover the whole garden… We explain the plans and tell him we want a new kitchen/living area to go onto the existing lounge and a downstairs loo plus a bathroom upstairs and another small bedroom. He says he will have to ask his mates who couldn’t make it today. At the word mates, we look at each other suspiciously. He also happily advises us that if he can’t do it he knows someone who throws these things up really fast and cheap. Yes, right…
Three months on we get a quote from the first builder for 60,000 pounds, minus fittings and decorating. I pick Andrew up off the floor and ask can he take two weeks off work to do it himself. He scoffs. Then nice Julian’s quote pops through the door. Oh, at last. Except it isn’t a quote. It is Julian telling us he now can’t do it. Basically he has been offered bigger jobs. Charming.
We wait for ‘It’s not a problem’ builder quote. Meanwhile another one visits and seems very unassuming.
‘I’ll get the quote to you in a week’ and HE DOES. Impressed we are.
Andrew looks into the price of scaffolding and I start to worry that he is serious about doing it himself. Oh, good lord.
The builder who got the quote back on time phones to say he would like to discuss it with us. He wants to come and see us again without us asking. Ooh, we get very excited. Meanwhile, another comes and Bendy runs and hides again. I begin to wonder how he will cope with all the work when it starts. Then on Wednesday the prompt builder arrives and guess what? Bendy is all over him, at one point putting his paw onto his knee so he is sure to see him and give him a stroke. It’s a sign. I tell Andrew this later and he just scoffs but he agrees this is the guy for us and his quote is reasonable. I can’t believe it.
In just eighteen weeks he will start work with his team.
I so hope I can post good things…
Pictorial memory
My hobby as an amateur photographer has very much taken a step into the background. There seems to be only so much in life that I can do. However, today I was glancing through my photography folder on my computer. Mainly because I turned a year older yesterday and I felt it was time for the yearly computer clear out. Of course, clear out is not what happens. Instead, similar to sorting through old boxes of memorabilia, one gets carried away and all sorts of ideas present themselves. So instead of shelving photography, I have decided to get involved again. As soon as I get time I will set up a new page on my Blog for photos. I am getting quite excited. I first got involved in photography in the late seventies and then acquired a Praktica single lens reflex. I thought it was the bees knees. I did so much with that. Finally I was given a Pentax which became the love of my life for many years. I updated it only once. Then along came digital and I bought myself a simple Fuji single lens reflex. I was quite content with this but my dream was to own a Nikon. A wonderful director friend, impressed with some of my photos offered me a Nikon he had no more use of. He kindly bought me a lens to go with it. This camera has been my companion for some time and I love it. See for yourself. In the meantime, enjoy and all constructive criticism is welcome.
Turin, in the moutains
School girls on their way to school. Phillipines;
Andrew and his daughter in Oxford
Philippines
A wedding guest
First pregnancy
In Scotland
Turin
Israel
Cambodia
Oxford
Horses, near home
Andrew (in Oxford)
A friend with child
Oxford
Wedding dress
Rose in our garden
Taken near our village
Lambs
Scotland
Cambodia
Cambodia
Cairo
Oxford
Capturing the bride
Cairo
Wedding
Horse near our our home
You is well funny!
I have always looked on the bright side of things. My sense of humour is wacky and I have been called eccentric, nicely mad and well funny. One memorable comment from a student I was teaching many years ago was.
‘You is well funny, you should be on the telly.’
Yes, well… There have been times that it could seriously have gotten me into trouble.
I have already recounted many funny episodes in my life but believe me for every one that I have told you there are a million others. So, here we go, sit down, get comfy and those cheeky ones can bugger off now. It all began with this morning, well, in theory on Thursday when my friend Marie, and yes Marie, this is your entire fault, gave me an early birthday card. She asked me to open it right away and of course I did. There is always the vague hope that there might be a cheque inside. There wasn’t, just in case you wondered. I think she must have forgotten to put it in. Hopefully when she reads this, she’ll pop it in the post.
On arrival home, I showed Andrew my card which was a lovely lookalike picture of my cat Bendy. Where she is going with this, you are asking. Don’t deny it, because I heard you. The card was then placed on the book shelf. I did notice Andrew’s newly purchased tax disc but that is really the only time I recall seeing it. It is at this point that I have to claim total ignorance at whatever followed because I honestly cannot remember. I blame hormones myself, mine that is, not Andrew’s. It is a miracle of nature that I am still having periods actually but that is probably another post altogether. But while we are on the subject of periods I would just like to raise the question, why are sanitary towels not free? Did I ask for periods? More importantly did I ask for them to go on forever? Did I ask to make history? No. I spent over nine pounds on sanitary protection the other day. I think the NHS should supply them; after all they supply condoms don’t they? It’s all one and the same thing surely? But I transgress as usual. The next day he asks have I seen his tax disc.
I admitted I had but that was the night before. He insists I have lost it, I insist I haven’t. Andrew finally finds it in the recycle bin, folded neatly and inside the envelope clearly marked Lynda which originally housed my card. I mean, honestly what is going on? How did I do that? More importantly when did I do that? And most importantly of all, why did I do it?
My question to you is this. Am I clearly mad, or can this all be blamed on hormones?
I have been known to trudge round Marks and Spencer for over an hour, pack my shopping, ask for the collect by car option, accept my number disc and then drive all the way home, get indoors and then realise I am still holding the disc and my shopping is still at the store.
I’m the part medical receptionist who politely argues with the patient who comes to collect a prescription.
Patient, mumbling:
‘I’ve come to collect my prescription.’Me:
What’s your name?
Patient: Whispers
‘Joe Smith’
Me, looks for prescription can’t find it. Ten minutes of me asking when was it requested and trying to trace it, I suddenly come to the realisation that it must be a controlled drug and the script is somewhere safe. I search in the relevant place but no prescription. Joe Smith, mumbles his name again and fidgets uncomfortably. I again ask him what it was for in the hope it will give me an idea where to look. He shifts about again and whispers something I don’t catch. He finally reveals it is a private script. Ah, why didn’t he say that in the beginning? With a flourish I produce his prescription which he grabs and quickly exits.
‘What was that all about?’
asks my fellow worker.
‘Oh, nothing,’
I respond.
Well, how was I know his prescription was for Viagra?
I really hate to hurt people’s feelings and that can go as far as our local milkman. Rather than telling him we didn’t want him anymore, I said I now had lactose intolerance and couldn’t drink milk. He was so sympathetic and helpful that I found myself accepting his offer of lactose free milk and yoghurt. Andrew’s face when seeing them in the fridge was quite a picture.
I am even polite to obscene phone callers. One once phoned and asked if I wasn’t too busy would I talk to him while he w***ed himself off. I apologised, saying I was in the middle of the ironing. I mean, who does that?
I have left my handbag in a shopping trolley and driven home.
Left the house, locked the front door while leaving the back door wide open.
Slept in the summer-house when Andrew was away working because there was a spider in the bedroom. Because we do not have a back entrance I had to leave the backdoor unlocked all night, so I could get back into the house in the morning… (shush) don’t tell Andrew.
I have unbuttoned my skirt while travelling on a coach only to forget to button up again. Yes, you’ve guessed it. While running along Oxford Street to catch a connecting bus I ended up with my skirt around my ankles.
I’m the woman who gets a tampon stuck and has to have it surgically removed, oh yes, that’s me…
I have also attempted to get into a car that looks very like mine for about ten minutes until I finally spot the baby seat and remember I don’t have a baby. Thank god, the car wasn’t alarmed.
I find I am out of control whenever I hear Irish music. When walking through the grounds of Blenheim palace and hearing ‘Lord of the dance’ I break into an Irish jig. 
Like a good wife I prepare dinner early and put everything in the slow cooker and then potter off to write. It is only when Andrew arrives home at 6.30 that I realise I had plugged in the toaster instead of the slow cooker. No dinner!
I have handed over my NHS employee smart code to policeman when stopped in my car, thinking it is my driving licence (well they are both pink!) and been told I can go. (Obviously they mistake me for a Doctor. Understandable.)
I send text message to the wrong people… Seriously, this can be quite dire.
Now, you are all going to tell me how similar things happen to you every day aren’t you? Or are you just going to tell me.
‘You is well funny!’
Beautiful Cambodia
I have been lucky enough to visit many countries in my life but not one has stolen my heart as Cambodia did. I did not want to come home and could barely control my tears when saying goodbye to my step daughter in law. Not being able to have children of my own I have been very blessed with three lovely step children. The wife of my middle step son James has become very much like a daughter to me. The fact that she is now in Cambodia is difficult enough and leaving her and James was very difficult. We both failed miserably in controlling our emotions on the last day. The country itself as I said stole my heart. I cannot wait to return and hope to do so in the summer. While there, an assortment of wonderful ideas came to me and inspiration flowed like water. However, any ideas I may have conjured up were quickly dashed by my husband who always sees the practical. I never do. I am a jump into the deep end person. All my visions of moving out to Cambodia are not to be. So, I have decided to return in the summer for several weeks to do voluntary writing work if anyone will have me. Meanwhile, I have written a piece on the children’s hospital there as well as a brief posting on the Orphanage. I intend to write more as time goes on. But those two pieces are featured here on my Blog. If you wish to help either organisation in any way please let me know. There are still many humorous situations to share, not to mention the day I was almost bitten by a rabid dog. But for now I just want to share some photos of the wonderful people of Cambodia and the country itself.
We were very lucky to be invited to many places which tourists do not often see. One was a tour of the Angkor Hospital for Children. This was very moving and touched Andrew and I very much. We were also invited to see the Orphanage at the children’s Sanctuary. A nurse my stepson works with got married and invited us to her very traditional wedding. We were treated like celebrities. Everyone wanting to dance with us and have photos taken with us. It was amazing. We we also taken into a village to meet the people there. Here another wedding was taking place, one which we had not been invited to but they kindly allowed me to take photos of the reception hall and before Andrew and I knew what was happening we were taken up some steps to what I thought was a barn. It was in fact where the wedding ceremony was taking place. After much embarrassment we were asked if we would have a photo with the bride and groom.
But less chatter from me and more pictures.
Andrew with the local villagers.
A very happy me!
Beautiful Cambodia
A land mine victim
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My lovely daughter in law
The bride
Dancing and fun at a wedding
Making friends at the wedding
Beautiful Cambodia
New years Eve
Beautiful Cambodia
Known as sexy frog, in Cambodia
Andrew on New Years Eve with his Tuk Tuk driver friend
Where we ate dinner most nights
Down and Out
I thought I wouldn’t post for a while as feeling a little below par and normally my posts are cheery and upbeat. This is how I usually am too. I have spent the past ten years of my life keeping emotional vampires out of it. Of course, sometimes it is not as easy as it sounds. I allowed someone too get too close a few days ago and I paid the price. I feel quite emotionally battered. Very hurt and am still struggling to distance myself. I let my guard down. I know I am quite emotionally fragile and should have known better to get into anything with someone like that but I did. As soon as harmony is restored I will be posting my usual fun posts. Laughter is the best medicine after all. In the meantime I am very much enjoying all the upbeat posts I have been reading and they are lifting me. Normal programme will resumed as soon as possible, possibly even sooner than that. Do check my writer friend page on here. I just interviewed the lovely Jae De Wylde who talked about her new book.
Bye for now.
Friends without a border
FRIENDS WITHOUT A BORDER/ANGKOR HOSPITAL FOR CHILDREN
Posted on | januari 20, 2012 | 2 Comments
Arrival in Siem Reap, Cambodia
Having left England on a cold December day, I arrived at Siem Reap in Cambodia on Christmas day late in the evening. The heat hit me immediately. As I was still wearing my warm clothes I was quite relieved to feel the cool breeze on my face as I took my first Tuk Tuk ride to my accommodation. I had never been to Cambodia before and I was struck by the poverty of the country almost straight away. My stepson greeted us and took us back to his apartment where we were shown to our very comfortable bedroom. I decided over the next few days I would see the poverty for myself. I had not imagined, however, the extent of it and was very surprised. What affected me most was seeing the children living in such squalid conditions. I found it difficult to visit the markets where children would beg me to buy their goods. On my third day I walked into the local village to visit the people there and to take photographs. Here the poverty of the people was very apparent. Children were running around barefoot avoiding skinny cockerels that hustled for food and shouting hello to us in loud voices. Everyone we passed smiled at us and asked how we were and some even offered us food despite their poverty. Both my husband I were very touched by this. We passed small huts that looked like they would crumble to the ground should there be one large gust of wind. I saw children being washed under taps while they fought to escape the parent attempting to clean them. How do these children stay well, I wondered and what do they eat? Cambodia is a poverty stricken country, where the average wage is seven dollars a week. Everywhere you look there is poverty and malnutrition. There are also many children. Where there is poverty, there are health problems. I glanced at the small stalls selling food and tried not to grimace at the flies that hovered there.
The Khmer Rouge
So what has ravaged this beautiful country and left such poverty in its wake? I knew something of the Khmer Rouge regime from things I had read but I realised I had no clear idea of what happened between 1975-1979. How could I not have been aware of such a terrible genocide? I was of an aware age. I thought back to what I may have been doing during this time and was ashamed of my ignorance. The Khmer Rouge killed nearly two million Cambodians from 1975 to 1979 spreading like a virus from the jungles until they controlled the entire country. They destroyed and dismantled in the name of a Communist agrarian ideal. Today, more than 30 years after Vietnamese soldiers removed the Khmer Rouge from power genocide trials are still going on, a bitter sweet moment for the impoverished nation still struggling to rehabilitate its crippled economic and human resources. It is this legacy that the children of Cambodia have inherited. Under Pol Pot’s leadership, and within days of overthrowing the government, the Khmer Rouge embarked on an organised mission. Children were taken from their parents and placed in separate forced labour camps. Factories, schools and universities were shut down; so were hospitals. Lawyers, doctors, teachers, engineers, scientists and professional people in any field (including the army) were murdered, together with their extended families.
If you are unfamiliar with the Khmer Rouge there are many books to familiarise yourself with this cruel and terrifying regime. ‘First they killed my father’ by Loung Ung is an emotional insight into one child’s experience of the horror of The Khmer Rouge. I was lucky to be given this book by my stepson and his wife while in Cambodia. Both the book and the country have touched me on a deeply emotional level. Seeing this beautiful country after this terrible rape by the Khmer Rouge makes it impossible not to be moved by the people’s positive attitude and their continual smiles. Knowing that thirty years ago the country lost most of its educated people and Doctors I was curious about the health situation in Cambodia.
Meeting Arun Sinketh at The Angkor Hospital for Children
A few days later I myself was very sick with a stomach upset and again I found myself wondering about the health system in Cambodia and along with my husband went to ‘The Angkor Hospital for Children’ (AHC) visitors Centre. Arun Sinketh the Human Resources Director, sensing my interest and keenness to write an article offered to give us a tour of the Hospital the following day. I left armed with booklets and information and studied them that night. I was saddened to discover that the life expectancy in Cambodia is just 57 years and that the probability of dying before the age of five is 88 per thousand births. It was difficult to comprehend the figures. The children of Cambodia are the most appealing I have ever met and I fell in love with many of them. As I journeyed back to the Hospital the next morning, many of them waved and shouted ‘Hello’ to us. Some were travelling totally unprotected on the front of their father’s motorcycle. I cannot begin to count how many under-five’s I saw travelling helmetless on a motorcycle with either one or both parents. Heedless of the dust and heat they ride happily along seemingly unaware of the dangers. I immediately found my mind wandering back to what I had read the night before and shuddered. One of the most lasting legacies of the Khmer Rouge and which continues to claim new victims daily, are land mines. They litter the countryside and even the soldiers who placed them there cannot recall where they are. As I travelled through the country the effects are visible in many ways but perhaps most poignantly in the number of children, men and women wearing prostheses or riding wheelchairs. I knew there had to be something I could do to help the smiling people of Cambodia. Where better to help the children than a hospital?
The Hospital Tour
With the statistics in my mind I pushed open the door to the Visitor Centre again where Arun was waiting for me. With a kind smile and a warm welcome she began my tour of the ‘Angkor Hospital for Children.’ The first thing I see is the hospital logo, a green symbol in the shape of a heart. Arun has worked at the hospital for 11 years. She first began her career there as a nurse in 2001 and continued nursing for two and half years. Her biggest pleasure is the children. She later moved to be a PA and volunteer coordinator. In 2006, she worked full time as a PA. Arun is still studying in her spare time and was very inspirational.
I would now very much like you to take the tour with me. I was desperate to see how the hospital cared for these vulnerable children of Cambodia. We left the coolness of the visitor Centre and headed outside into the stifling heat where Arun pointed out the entrance gate and explained that the gate opens at 6 a.m. but people will have been queuing long before that. I asked her how many children are seen in one day and was stunned when she told me 400 children a day attend the hospital outpatient department. Almost half would have travelled more than 50 kilometres in the back of a pick-up truck or by motorbike. Most likely they will walk. I tried to imagine travelling from my home in Oxfordshire back in England for thirty miles or possibly even fifty to sixty miles to get to an outpatient department and shudder when I imagine trying to get a child there when I have no transport. It is unimaginable. Transporting a sick child all that way in a Tuk Tuk does not bear thinking about. I later visited a rural village in a Tuk Tuk and the roads were so uneven that I felt certain we would never make it. I came home with a mild headache from the heat and the uncomfortable ride. How much worse for a sick child. I followed Arun into the waiting area of the outpatient department, past crying children, anxious mothers and siblings to the triage area.
‘The majority of children who come to the hospital are less than five years old. The three main diseases are respiratory, diarrhoea and malnutrition. After triage, the child will see either a nurse or a doctor depending on the severity of their symptoms. Because waiting time is so long, up to many hours, we provide a play area for the siblings of the sick child. 400 children a day coming to the Hospital means a long wait.’ Arun explains.
And I thought we waited a long time in England. I make a decision not to moan about our healthcare system again.
Inpatients
The inpatient ward I found quite upsetting. Arun who previously nursed at the Hospital looks at the children affectionately and tells me how much she enjoyed nursing the children. I see a young baby suffering from Pneumonia and watch as his mother assists with the Oxygen mask. The baby looks very small and helpless and it is very distressing to see a young baby so sick and I have an overwhelming desire to pick her up and make everything all right. But, of course, I can’t. Arun tells me the parents are encouraged to nurse their children and to be as active as possible in their recovery. The inpatient ward has 55 beds. I feel helpless when seeing so many sick children and decide to later ask Arun how I can help. We pass the smiling Doctors and nurses and as we do so a mother looks to my husband gratefully, thinking he is a Doctor. On walking back through the waiting area she immediately poured out her gratitude to us, bowing and showing us how deeply grateful she was. I looked to my husband and saw from his face how deeply moved he was by this. The friendship and generosity of the Cambodian people was quite a revelation to us and we instantly warmed to them.
Arun tells me that nursing these children is very satisfying. I am amazed to hear that more than 30,000 patients were seen in the inpatients department in 2010 with 2,356 admissions. Almost 100,000 have passed through the Intensive Care Unit. Frightening statistics.
Nean Pisitomony
Arun introduced me to Nean Pisitmony who comes from Preah Vihear Province, more than 100km from Siem Reap. His parents brought him to AHC to uncover what was making their seven year-old boy so sick. They had taken him to other hospitals, even as far away as Phnom Penh, but no one had been able to help them. At AHC he was quickly diagnosed with congenital heart disease and the Hospital was able to send him to Malaysia for corrective open-heart surgery. After a successful surgery he returned to Cambodia and had no complications. One day, while traveling through Kompong Thom, he saw the AHC logo on a donation box and immediately recognized it as the big green heart that had saved his own heart. Mony started saving money to someday donate to AHC because he thought that this was the best way he could help.
In February 2010, Mony returned to AHC. He had an abscess on his face, with severe swelling and an infection in his left eye. Even though physicians in his hometown treated him, he was not getting better. His parents decided to bring him back to the hospital with the big green heart.
At AHC, he was taken care of by the eye doctor, treated with antibiotics and improved quickly. He thanked all of the staff at AHC for saving his life once again and was finally able to donate the $100 he had been saving. He hopes that his donation will help save lives of other children, and it will.
With the growth of their own surgeons and the help of generous volunteers many children with heart conditions like Mony are now being treated right at AHC. In 2009, 24 open heart surgeries were successfully performed in the hospital’s own Operating Room!
Homecare programme
The most interesting aspect of the Angkor Hospital for Children for me was the Homecare programme and I immediately found myself wondering how I could return to Siem Reap and follow the homecare team who go directly to the patients in rural communities because they are too weak and fragile to travel. The homecare programme provides not only medical assessment and treatment but also provides support and education. The first step in prevention of further health problems is to educate the people. This includes giving seeds to grow vegetable gardens, mosquito nets to prevent malaria and dengue fever and even school uniforms. 70-75% of homecare patients are HIV positive. Often in Cambodia those living with HIV are marginalized and in some cases children have been expelled from school. Other patients suffer from malnutrition, congenital heart disease and neurological pathology. They all require assessment and care. I began to wonder if I could write an article about such devastating health problems and still remain positive. I soon learnt that in the Angkor Hospital for Children there is much to be positive about.
Education
Because the families admitted to AHC have needed to borrow money just to get there, they arrive with little or no food. All eligible families are provided with food and cooking supplies. There is a community kitchen at the hospital where families gather to cook meals. A whole family will stay with a sick child and the hospital arrange cooking classes twice daily to show mothers how to make food like bor-bor, a traditional Khmer porridge and other nutritional foods. There is also a demonstration garden adjacent to the kitchen which displays a variety of nutrient rich vegetables that can be grown locally. Seeds are given to the parents to take home. I found this very positive indeed. In fact my whole visit was a very uplifting experience and the smile on Arun’s face as she showed us around warmed me immensely. I could see that the poor malnourished children I had seen on the streets could and would be helped. All thanks to a New York based photographer named Kenro Izu who first came to Siem Reap over fifteen years ago to photograph the Angkor temples. However, it was the images of the children that would capture his heart as they have done mine. He was compelled to dedicate himself to improving their lives. With little more than the will to effect positive change he founded ‘Friends without a Border’ and was able to raise the seed money for ‘Angkor Hospital for Children’ Read more about Kenro Izu here.
I finished my tour with a look at the Dental Clinic. Arun told me that few children in Cambodia own a toothbrush! Arun also told me 40 children a day see the dentist. I then, visited the Eye clinic where monty was treated.
The children of Cambodia need your help and there are many ways to offer. Izu founded the Friends Without A Border non-profit organization in 1996. Since that time AHC has treated more than 800,000 children, performed over 12,000 surgeries, educated thousands of Cambodian health workers, and improved the quality of healthcare in the countryside. In 2010, the AHC’s satellite facility opened at Sot Nikum Referral Hospital in Dam Daek in order to bring compassionate, high-quality care into other parts of Siem Reap Province.
If visiting Cambodia, you can donate blood.
Or like me you can offer to volunteer your services
I was so uplifted by the children of Cambodia that I know I have to see them again. If I can help them in any way, then that is what I want to do. The Angkor Hospital for Children gave me hope and uplifted me. The Angkor Hospital for Children is doing a wonderful job in what is a very difficult country. It is an organisation that I very much want to support. Please read more aboutFriends Without a Border and help in any way you can.
Seeing the country and learning about their history and how they lost their doctors and educated people thirty years ago in the most horrific of circumstances leaving them in poverty made me feel uncomfortably privileged and humble at what I take for granted. Cambodia and the children of Cambodia changed my life for the better. I am so pleased to be able to help them.
AUTHOR: Lynda Renham-Cook
URL: http://www.lyndarenham.org.uk
E-MAIL: lynda [at] renham.co.uk
Original article link below.
http://www.nl-aid.org/domain/child/friends-without-a-borderangkor-hospital-for-children/
Help, we’re sinking…fast
Here I am about to go on a boat trip and stupidly I had not even considered we would do this. How I had imagined we would visit a floating village without a boat being involved, I do not know. But that’s me, say yes to things and think about it later.
Now I don’t particularly like boats. In fact I don’t particularly like water either. Well, obviously not all water. I don’t want you think I don’t shower. It’s more sea like water, the stuff that boats sail on, that have an adverse effect on me. I have a good reason for this sailing aversion. I can’t swim and any boat trip is seen as a possible drowning threat. The only boats I will go on and probably then kicking and screaming are those that tend to have lots of safety equipment such as lifeboats, life rafts, life jackets; you know all those safety things that have the word life attached to them. I want to live you see for quite a few more years. I know, maybe learning to swim might be a good idea. My attempts at swimming lessons are a whole other blog.
Anyway, as usual I am digressing. Back to the boat, did I say boat? Oh, God, never has something looked less like a boat than this one and the sailor less like a sailor. I want to die…
‘Surely we aren’t getting on that,’ I say weakly.
Andrew’s face is enough to tell me we are. After all we have just paid thirty dollars to go on this and Andrew is determined to get his money’s worth. If that means I drown, so be it. Okay, he isn’t that bad. In Cambodia there are two words that just do not exist. Those two words are Health and Safety. This is not a nanny state, oh no. I am the first to disapprove of nanny States but God knows right at that moment I would have begged to be part of a nanny state. The boat is of medium size and is made up of planks of wood with lots of gaps between them. It seems to be cobbled together from bits of old car parts. The motor is an old car engine lashed to the stern; the rudder is controlled by two lengths of rope strapped around a steering wheel
Our Captain.
The back of the boat and the rickety chair. Note the car battery...
Trying to look relaxed
and I fear I may never leave Cambodia alive. But amazingly enough we reach the floating village in one piece and he pulls the boat close to the floating café. We, of course, do not have any money left. On reflection, I do believe this was our big mistake.
Tea, anyone...
‘Is everything okay?’
He nods. ‘Just a slight technical hitch.’
Oh, that’s okay then.
‘We’re sinking’
Nothing in sight, not even a solitary fish
What! What! He points behind him and oh my God, there is water everywhere. Well of course there is water everywhere. What I mean is, it is everywhere it shouldn’t be. Like in our sodding boat. Oh someone please help. A slight technical problem? I’m going to drown and Andrew thinks it is a slight technical problem.
‘Please be serious, is everything okay? We will be okay won’t we? He knows what he’s doing doesn’t he?’
I get the ‘You are getting hysterical look’
‘I don’t know, but I presume so. He has stopped the engine.’
I look frantically around me. Must keep calm, must think of strategies for rescue. Look at the situation calmly. Okay, I am in Cambodia, in the middle of a deep-sea, with no other boats nearby and not another soul in sight, unless you count Andrew and the Captain. The Captain can’t speak English. There is no life raft, no life boat, no life jackets and I can’t swim. Oh God, soon there will be no life, No, no think positive. Think positive, why am I thinking this is somewhat impossible? The only thing I can see on the boat is water and a rickety chair. Deep breaths, deep breaths. I strain to see the nearest bank but there isn’t one. Check Blackberry. Yes, as I guessed, no signal. I’m going to drown in Cambodia and no one will know, well my family will. But no one else will. It’s not like I’m famous. I probably won’t even make the local paper. Oh, what a sad end. Oh, hang on what’s this? The Captain is strolling past me, fag in mouth, and carrying a car battery.
Letting in water
‘Ah,’ says Andrew. My lovely hubby has an irritating habit of saying Ah, and Mmm, a lot. I have come to know the meanings of these Ah’s and Mmm’s over the years and this is such a hopeful Ah that I allow myself a heavy sigh of relief.
‘What is he doing?’ I ask hopefully.
We both watch as the smiling Captain attaches something to the battery and sticks a hose into the water.
‘He’s draining the water out of the boat. Funny isn’t it?’
I beg to differ. I can see nothing to laugh about here unless you count my hysterical laugh as comical.
The water pump
The boat continues to bob and the Captain gives us a thumbs up. Yes, well, this is not very good actually. After all we have paid for this. I could pay a lot less to go in a haunted house if I wanted to be scared to death. The water runs over my feet and I pull them up quickly. Visions of the water reaching my chin haunt me and I start humming to push the thoughts away. I lean over the boat to see the pump and feel my shoulders relax when I see the water pumping out nicely. Within minutes we are roaring through the deep waters and Captain eats his sandwiches while I dry swallow two painkillers and think that my nerves really cannot take much more. We dock with a bang and a thud and with Andrew and the Captain’s help, along with the rickety chair I disembark. Next step? I now need the toilet desperately. Be warned, that is the next blog…
Almost Cholera, but not quite…
Hello there peeps, sorry for keeping you waiting. You know how it is? You don’t? Well, I came back from Cambodia and am about to dish the dirt as promised except a few days after my return I went down with a shocker of a cold. Now, let me know tell you dear friends that I recall the bugger who passed this onto me quite clearly. I can still see his red nose as he coughed and spluttered behind me on the aeroplane. Rest assured I shall be taking my revenge before the week is out. That is, of course, if my lovely husband Andrew, who now sneezes uncontrollably, has not murdered me. Ah, the pleasure of returning home from holiday. Even our tummies are rebelling somewhat and trying to rid themselves of the last vestige of Cambodia it seems. So,let’s crack on with the show then, I mean Blog. Sorry, you can see I have been resting with Miranda Hart, not personally of course but if anyone can arrange that, let me know. Before we begin I should just say that Cambodia was one of the best countries I have ever visited and I am deeply eager to return again and what follows is my usual light-hearted view on life. Enjoy.
Now, where did I get to? Ah yes arrival at my stepson’s apartment with the building work, which I was convinced would not happen on Boxing Day. Yes, well, never presume. I woke at 7.a.m and for a minute I think I am alone. The beds in the hotel and at my stepson’s are so wide that you can lose your partner. After a bit of feeling around however, I soon found Andrew and let out a big sigh of relief. Any hope of getting back to sleep is dashed by the banging and drilling next door and we get up to enjoy Boxing Day in Cambodia. The rest of the day is spiffing, thank you. That evening we meet some friends of my stepson and his wife who are also holidaying and go for dinner. Ah, first complication of the holiday. What can we eat? The web advice was that all the water is poison and to avoid like the plague. Apparently, we are told, the water if drunk will turn your hair to wire
This came on good authority from a monk, well ex monk. As for the food, make sure the hotel you’re in uses good hygiene. Yes, well this isn’t a hotel and I just don’t think it is common practice to ask to see the kitchens here or to meet the chef.
‘Don’t worry, the food is fine here,’ my stepson’s friends assures me. We quickly discuss it and decide that Pizza will be fine and bravely order. Oh dear… That night feeling perfectly fine I decide to stop being so nervous about tummy bugs
Our lovely dinner with Pizza and all.
‘I feel fine and we ate the same thing. You are bringing this on yourself. Do you want to come with me later? I’m meeting James in his lunch break and we are going for a curry. The whole thing with a pint of beer only costs three dollars.’
My husband, ever the caring partner. Just the word curry sends my stomach into turmoil and I open my mouth to decline but instead rush to the loo to be violently sick
instead with my imaginary upset stomach. Oh god… Andrew checks I am okay and then potters off. I am sick several times while he is out and several more times when he gets back. A trip to the temples the following day is cancelled and I find myself pining for home and a safe meal. I lay on my enormous bed feeling very sorry for myself and fighting down the nausea. Visions of being airlifted to a Bangkok hospital haunt me. Oh, God am I to die in Cambodia? A bit embarrassing if I do. What will Andrew tell people? I stress to him should this happen, he is to say I caught Cholera. One has to save face after all. That night I start to feel better and would have slept quite well had Andrew and his son not been throwing up. I decide not to ask Andrew if it is all his mind. The next day we look a little like the walking dead and decide to frighten the local community and take a walk.
All three of us looking the worse for wear. Daughter in law Lisa escaped, but only just.
In the end a very good idea for it certainly blew away the building dust and by the morning we were more than ready for a visit to the floating village. Our Tuk Tuk driver collected us on time and off we went down the Cambodian motorway. A lovely smooth ride until we hit the dirt track leading to the floating village. Let me tell you a trip in a Tuk Tuk through a Cambodian village needs some doing. Several times I was sure my womb dropped out and I didn’t have the heart to ask if we could return to retrieve it. I gave thanks to God that I didn’t wear contacts because after a couple of bumps in a Tuk Tuk on a bumpy road and you nearly lose your eyeballs let alone your contacts and trust me do not and I cannot stress this enough, do not go braless. It really isn’t worth it. Plus, of course, it is disrespectful in a country such as this. I rubbed my head with 4head and prayed the floating village wasn’t much further. Andrew meanwhile was attempting to photograph water buffalo as we jogged along. I pushed my hat back onto my head in the manner of Karen Blixen in ‘Out of Africa’ and attempted to look cool and glamorous. I failed miserably. 
‘We here,’ shouts the Tuk Tuk driver and we both stare perplexed at what looks like border control. I look around me and see a tiny river. That surely cannot be the floating village. Then I realise we have to pay to enter the floating village. Neither of us had anticipated this and did not bring much money with us. It is 15 dollars each and we do not have enough. The Tuk Tuk driver pays the excess and we drive through to the next village, Andrew mumbling the whole way that he really doesn’t understand what we actually paid for. Five minutes later we find out. Several boats no correction, several things that look like boats sit bobbing on the water waiting to take the tourists (us) through the floating village. I look at Andrew and back to the logs that make up the boats.
‘Is that what we have paid for?’
I ask breathlessly.
‘Yes, let’s go.’
Answers Andrew.
I take another look at the boat, take a deep breath and in the manner of Karen Blixen about to go on Safari, I attempt to board…
To be continued.
An Award? It’s a joke right?
Well, what can I say? It must be a joke right? I mean, I’m not actually famous or anything. Well, not real famous. I do feel like it when I win an award though and my lovely friend Jacqueline has been sweet enough to award me the ‘One Lovely Blog Award’ which is an award I have coveted over the months. Now I have it and I didn’t even prepare a speech. ‘One Lovely Blog Award’ is for Blogs that make you feel good after you have visited and I am thrilled to know I do that. I am so thrilled that Jacqueline, whose great Blog ‘Maturestudenthanginginthere’ chose me. Her Blog always makes me feel good and uplifts me no end. She always comes up with such great idea’s that I feel excited just reading her words. Thank you Jacqueline for awarding me ‘One Lovely Blog Award.’
So to pass on this award I would like to send it to the following bloggers:-
Dribbling Pensioner. Who cheers me and always makes me feel good with his unusual and funny posts. There is always something unique coming from Dribbling Pensioner.
Nuggets and Pearls which is by my friend Marcia and what a great Blog. Always full of uplifting ideas and thoughts. Whenever Marcia posts a new entry I get excited, knowing it will inspire me. I cannot think of two more deserving Blogs. If I could I would give this to ‘Maturestudenthanginginthere’ but I can’t. Ah, well. Thank you again to all those who voted for me-whoops it’s not a Bafta is it? I get so confused. That’s next month isn’t it? I wonder if I can use the same speech. Okay, okay. A girl can dream can’t she?
Congratulations everyone. Keep on Blogging.
A holiday in a Bangkok jail. Well, almost…
I should have known a trip to a place like Cambodia would not go without a hitch. After all I am Lynda Renham-Cook right? I expect you have been waiting for me to dish the dirt. Well, here it is.
The question is where do I start? Okay, let us start at the beginning. After all it is a very good place to start isn’t it? But which story first? The Construction work or negotiating the monks loo? Possibly the best one was when the boat we went in to visit the floating village started to sink.
Our sinking boat
‘You vill download,’ he had snapped. Okay a slight exaggeration but when have I not exaggerated? Better still is the story of the two weddings we got involved in and how I ate A Cow’s stomach. But I am straying away from the beginning as usual in my excitement to share all.
I started the holiday with a massive headache, which I still have now actually. It came and went on and off for most of the holiday. So, if anyone knows a cure for these constant headaches, do let me know as my body is taking a hell of a battering from painkillers. Talking of which I went to Cambodia packed like someone who was delivering medical aid, except the medicines were all for me.
Andrew took one look at the suitcase and sighed.‘Did you forget I was coming too,’ he said caustically. Okay maybe not caustically. More with a sardonic smile I suppose. ‘You’re supposed to take a first aid kit, not a first aid suitcase.’
Honestly, such sarcasm from my husband when all I am doing is being cautious.
‘Well, we will need another suitcase anyway for the Christmas presents,’ I argued. He picks up my three toiletries bags and sighs. Yes, okay, so I took a lot of pills with me. But you can’t be too cautious in a place like Asia can you? The web page even advises us to take toilet roll as they apparently don’t use it out there. What they do use I dare not think about really.
‘My son still uses it I hope. As we are staying with him I imagine there will be some.’ Andrew argues.
I am about to tell him that maybe his son cannot purchase toilet paper and that who knows what new habits he has acquired now but I stay quiet and just insist we do not take any chances. So I pack every pill in sight. I’m not going to go down with a stomach upset, I say. Famous last words. So, finally we are ready for the off, with enough toilet roll to bring down the plane. Talking of planes, what fun we had at the airports. We arrive in Bangkok after flying for ten hours and go in search of our luggage. Of course, I presumed it would just go straight on to Cambodia with us but it seems BA did not arrange it that way. We discover to fetch our luggage means we have to check out of the airport even though we have a connecting flight. This takes forever and our eye is constantly on the clock. We go through three passport control ports and each ones takes almost thirty minutes. We get lost and I feel my head throb even more. I am bursting for the loo but we don’t have time to stop. It’s just that in Bangkok I think they have toilet roll. We finally trace our luggage, grab it and fly to the next security check. By now I am so fed up that when the alarms go off I am almost expecting it.
‘Open the bag please,’ demands the official.
I frantically try to remember what is in my hand luggage. Are there medications in there too? Oh my word, I won’t get thrown into Bangkok Hilton will I, for carrying Co-Codamol? I feel my heart thumping as I open the bag. What other pills did I pack? I find myself looking around for dogs.
With shaking hands I open the bag and watch with a thudding heart as they open the small make up bag. Visions of shackles on my hands and legs float through my mind and I quickly try to remember my solicitor’s name and then realise I don’t have one. I feel faint and quickly close my eyes. I open them to see the man holding up my tube of Nivea cream. Oh, what a relief. He pops it into a bag and ticks me off. But thank God, I am not going to prison in Bangkok. I smile at Andrew and grab his hand so we can quickly escape. Ten minutes later we are heading past Duty free on our way to our connecting flight when Andrew asks.‘Where is your hand luggage?’
What! Oh no!
‘I left it at the security desk,’ I squeal, already legging it back. I mean, honestly. Only I would do something so stupid. We heave a deep sigh of relief to find it is still there and Andrew gives me a ‘What is wrong with you,’ look. I just shrug.
Two hours later and we are on our flight to Siem Reap in Cambodia. On the plane I debate whether to eat the food I am given. I read that the water is poisonous and can kill you. As for the food, well let’s just say I was preparing myself to lose weight rather than risk the food. An overpowering thirst wins, however and the water goes down along with the ominous looking sandwiches, which I figure I may as well eat now seeing as I have drunk the deadly water, along with two painkillers. One hour later and we arrive. The hot air hits me instantly and my head throbs even more. I will be glad to climb into the taxi and drive to James apartment. He meets us and directs us to our transport. Good lord, what is this. He surely does not expect us to get into a small rickshaw thing with our luggage and everything? Yes he does, oh my goodness. We all climb into the Tuk Tuk and I try not to cry out as my foot gets cramp. We seem to fly along the main roads, the dust flying into my eyes. I am sure I whimper as the wind whips at my face making my head throb even more. Good god what am I doing in this God forsaken country?
‘Are you okay?’ asks Andrew adding before I can reply. ‘It’s great isn’t it?’
Oh yes, fab.
‘The Tuk tuk is the only way around,’ says James.
Is it? Oh dear. I would later come to love the Tuk Tuk and the Tuk Tuk drivers who waited outside the apartment. I would come to adore the food. In fact I would come to adore Cambodia so much that the wish to return becomes unbearable. But as usual, I digress. Twenty minutes later we arrive at James apartment and in the dark I cannot see the outside very well but the inside is lovely and guess what? he has toilet paper and an en suite bathroom too. We have an oversized bed, air conditioning and plenty of bottled water. Perfect, except we also have a construction site next door.
‘Oh, that won’t be a problem,’ I say.
Why are there a lot of famous words in this here post? Off to bed we go, exhausted and already feeling some jet lag. The next day is the beginning of our holiday and is Boxing Day. We will open our presents and then go into town later for a look around and to get some dinner. Of course, the construction work won’t be going on, not on Boxing Day so it should be peaceful. More famous last words. I soon learn there are no holidays in Cambodia, only work. I wake to banging and drilling. A holiday nightmare. I tell myself it can’t get any worse…
TO BE CONTINUED.
A Meaningful Visit
Cambodia has a way of reaching your heart in a way that no other country seems to. At least that has been my experience so far. This is my first visit to Siem Reap and I have already decided it will not be my last. Early this week I went to the Visitor centre of the ‘Angkor Hospital for Children’ to ask if I could write an article on the hospital. The Director of Human Resources kindly offered to give me a tour of the hospital the next day. I was thrilled to be given such an opportunity and learnt so much about their work as well as actually seeing what they did, and to also get a clearer understanding of how the organisation works. The Hospital depends entirely on donations and I am pleased to be writing something for them in an attempt to help them raise more revenue. I was also asked if I would like to return as a volunteer writer for them next year and I jumped eagerly at the opportunity. I have been fortunate to know people, that are attempting to make a difference and it has given us the opportunity to see things we may not normally see. On arriving here my daughter in law asked if I would like to visit an Orphanage where a friend is a member of staff. I then discovered that my husband’s son is in touch with the President and founder. I immediately said yes and the following day we travelled in the Tuk Tuk for our visit. It was a hot, dusty day and I was already itching like mad from the numerous bites I had received overnight. But once there, I was moved beyond belief. I had stupidly visualised the Orphanage as huge and something like one I would see in England. It was in fact down a very bumpy track. A bumpy track
in a Tuk Tuk is no fun and I am still wondering if my womb is still intact. I certainly lost a fair amount of my diet coke on the way As soon as we arrived someone came to the gate to greet us. No sooner had we stepped into the courtyard, then children were screaming hello to us from their classroom high up on the balcony of the traditional Cambodian house which is located alongside the Seim Reap River.
I have never felt so welcome as I did at ‘The Children’s Sanctuary’ so much so, that we returned yesterday armed with biscuits. The assistant manager showed us around and I was stunned to see how small the Orphanage was. The children sat quietly listening to their lessons while occasionally posing for me when they realised the camera was on them.
Pointing to the words they know.
When a child is taken into care here the main objective is to address any health issues. The children are cared for by the Sanctuary nannies and what wonderful people they are. All are trained in first aid and health care with emphasis upon hygiene. A doctor and nurse visit the children on a regular basis to check on the children’s health and progress if they are on treatment. Full dental care is also provided for all children. But, as always, money is a problem. The Orphanage depends solely on donations and sponsorship. It is certainly somewhere I will maintain contact and help as much as I can. I hope I have encouraged you to do the same. From my photos you can see how happy the children are.
During our visit we saw the children receive gifts for their outstanding work in the classroom for the past year.
Visitors are very welcome at the Sanctuary provided prior arrangement is made and one can help with the lessons. I spent time with some of the children reading with them. It is a humbling experience to visit their home and certainly puts things into perspective. When it is time to climb back into the Tuk Tuk, both the staff and children come to wave goodbye. A visit I shall not forget. Visit their Webpage 
Bald men, tattoos and dodgy stomachs.
So we have arrived in Cambodia and here I am tapping away at my keyboard while sitting in an air-conditioned room a million miles away from England. But, of course, things are never as idyllic as they sound are they? Not in my life, anyway. But, as always I digress. Here I am telling you about Cambodia when the getting here was much more interesting. Did I say interesting? I am certain there are better adjectives to describe our trip. Did I mention we are here only one day and my tummy is already a bit Dicky? Ah the pleasures of a break abroad. ‘Such fun’, as Miranda’s mum would say. Here I am digressing already. Let’s start at the very beginning it’s a very good place to start. Should I need to run from the computer for any reason, I will be sure to let you know. Why should I be the only one to suffer?
It all began on Friday evening when we learnt that our connecting flight had been cancelled. I am so pleased it was now, although I wasn’t saying that on Friday. We arrived at Heathrow airport with plenty of time to spare so I dived straight to duty-free as you do while Andrew sighs and wanders around the whisky that he has no intention of buying. Finally, we sit and wait and frantically look at the other passengers wondering who might be on our flight and whether he or she looks the type to throw their seat back or get totally drunk during a long flight to Bangkok.
You know the sort of thing, the usual flight anxiety. We have all done it right? Then, you spot the lovely elderly couple and spend the rest of the time praying that they will be in front of you. We are joined by two young men who sit discussing the chocolate they have bought. A family size bag of kinder, and their favourites Jelly Babies which are indeed very moorish, so we hear. Well, these lads seem harmless if they only plan on getting high on sugar. They won’t be so bad as travelling companions. One claims he has never had so much chocolate on his person and is loaded down with Mars Planets. Well, this was not quite how I imagined the young lads who visit Bangkok to be like. We start to get a little uncomfortable when they are joined by another friend however, who they advise will be sweating it out before the day is finished and begin describing the side effects of a cold sweat. He, meanwhile sneezes all over Andrew while studying his box of night nurse. Not a great start. Still, they seem very clean living, all three of them. Oh, they are now joined by another who produces the latest magazines and they all get very excited. We smile good-naturedly. Boys and their football, we think. Until, out of the rucksack comes the most recent edition. The latest porno magazine it seems. Good lord. I suddenly realise why they are going to Bangkok and visions of a repeat of ‘The Hangover’ flit through my mind. One of them is getting very excited and says how he has never seen so much alcohol and cigarettes in his life.
I can’t help imagining that Bangkok has been quite an eye opener for him then. Finally it is time to board and I find myself praying that the elderly couple will be our nearest travelling companions. We board on time and everything is going well. Too well, I hear you say. A nice young Australian is in our row and Andrew introduces himself and they get chatting very quickly. I watch with trepidation as people walk down the aisle and finally three bald-headed men with tattoos approach and my heart is in my mouth and almost jumps out onto the floor when they take the three seats in front of us. Oh no, just what I had been dreading. 12 hours of noisy drunken tattooed men. This is turning out to be quite typical of a Lynda Renham-Cook holiday.
I turn to Andrew who just smiles and continues talking to his neighbour. Great, what is the betting I get the one who throws his seat back, laughs raucously and causes scenes? Yes, I am a great one to exaggerate. But, hey listen, I know my holiday history.
‘Long fu**ing flight ahead then, so I’m going to fu**ing kip, the whole fu**ing way. I’ll probably take a fu**ing pill and fu**ing die.’
He says and I think this sounds like good news for me… and almost say.
‘Can you fu**ing take it soon please.’
Not that I wish anyone to die, well maybe just this one passenger.
And we are off and taken care of by lovely gay steward Cameron and his mate Jasper.
Amazingly enough Mr ‘I’m off on fu**ing holiday’ literally does sleep the whole journey and fortunately doesn’t die either. What a stroke of luck I hear you say.
The whole journey was a stroke of luck, in fact. We arrived in Bangkok ten hours later where our connecting flight had been cancelled and we were to catch a later one. What a stroke of luck. It took us well over two hours to find our luggage, get through passport control and customs that we would never have made it had our flight been on time. Finally after numerous passport and security checks we arrive in Cambodia and are met by my stepson and we take our first ride in a Tuk Tuk
and go to our accommodation in Siem Reap. More to follow…
PS The dicky tummy turned into very bad Cambodian belly, If there is such a thing. Oh, it was not ‘such fun’ at all…
Is there alcohol in that fruitcake?
Well, Christmas is almost here and another year will shortly be over. 2011 has had some great moments for us as well as some sad ones. It will be delightful for us to spend Christmas this year in Cambodia will Andrew’s eldest son. Some time spent in the sunshine can’t be bad. So a quick look back on last year and the highlight was how well ‘Wedding Cake to Turin’ did. It had some bad reviews, of course but on the whole it sold really well making the number one Kindle spot for many weeks. If you haven’t got your copy, there is still time. Click here for your copy.
Be prepared to laugh a lot. In fact, if you know us you will know that laugh is what we do a lot in this house. The success of ‘Wedding Cake’ encouraged the release of ‘The Diary of Rector Byrnes’ a much more serious book but as one reviewer said, ‘It is gripping from the first page to the end’
And now, finally ‘Croissants and Jam’ is here. It has to be my favourite. It is funny and makes you feel very warm inside. I so enjoyed the book signings we did this year also to help the sales of all three books.
So many reviewers have been so fab in helping promote the book and the latest review by Diane Morasco for ‘Blog critics is below.’ Enjoy… It couldn’t have been such a great year if it hadn’t been for all the fab support Andrew gave me and the fact he dragged me from under the duvet every time I got a bad review. I didn’t appreciate him removing all the chocolate though, oh well, you can’t have everything. So, a nice break in Cambodia is very appealing and I have been browsing the Amazon shelves for myself. But, for me there is no contest now that I have received my friend Ronni Cooper’s new book ‘Manhattan’
I was so excited when the post lady brought it that I almost kissed her. Don’t worry, I fought the impulse. Check Ronni’s books and her website. You won’t be sorry.
Have a great Christmas and a brill new year.
Lots of love
Lynda
xx
Winter Holiday Fireside Moments Interview with Lynda Renham Cook
Part of: Holidays 2011
Author: Diane Morasco — Published: Dec 19, 2011 at 3:59 pm
It’s that time of year when the chill in the frosty air brings us indoors to hunker down with thick comforters and mugs of steaming hot chocolate overflowing with fluffy marshmallows. When holiday music and movies become the soundtrack to our everyday home lives. When we gather ‘round the fire
for company, drink, food and love. When we are celebrating and remembering those we treasure and hold near and dear. When the real meaning of the season is family – by our DNA or by our heart. When we reflect and give thanks for all we have. In a nutshell, unconditional love.
I’d like to welcome Lynda Renham Cook to share the beauty of the season with us.
Favorite Holiday tradition?
Mince pies, the more the merrier and Christmas trees. I love the whole decorating the Christmas tree tradition
Favorite childhood toy?
Sketch A Pad, and yes you can still buy them.
Favorite childhood game?
Five Stones
Snowball fight or making snow families?
Snowball fight every time.
Sleigh rides, sledding or skiing?
Sleigh ride, let’s stay safe.
Favorite Holiday song?
‘Have yourself a merry little Christmas’
Favorite holiday movie?
It has to be The Holiday, right? Love that movie.
Favorite holiday story to read?
Anything by Jane Austen makes my holiday perfect.
Snow on holiday eve or just a chill in the air?
Lots of white cold stuff please.
Most memorable holiday memory?
My dad dressing up as Santa Claus for his grandchildren and one of them demanding he stayed until her granddad came as she wanted him to see Santa. It was tricky, very tricky…
Did you eat popcorn balls as a kid? If you did, do you still?
No, it was always chocolate bars for us.
Real tree or artificial? Green or white?
Real, although artificial are tempting. Nothing like the smell of a real tree.
What do you holiday eve?
Snuggling up in the warm with some wine and a DVD.
What are your holiday plans this year?
Visiting family in Cambodia. It will be very different.
What’s the one holiday dish your family can’t go without?
Hot chestnuts.
Please share a Holiday recipe.
You’re speaking to someone who barely cooks. Hot chestnuts. They are easy just stick in the oven or on an open fire. They will pop when done.
Holiday party tip?
Relax, have fun and everyone else will too.
Favorite holiday decoration?
Christmas cards as it reminds me of all the good friends we have.
Please share some magical holiday memories?
The year we bought my mother a puppy. What fun that year…
Wrap, gift bag or bow & go?
Wrap with lots of ribbon. The pleasure is actually in the wrapping and unwrapping.
Gifts or gift cards?
Gift as much more personal.
Do you eat fruitcake?
Only if there is alcohol in it.
Do you head to the movies on the 25th?
And leave the warmth of the fire? I don’t think so.
What’s in your stocking? *wink*
You’ll have to ask my husband. I’m expecting a diamond ring.
What do you want in your stocking? *saucy wink aka swink*
Always was ahead of myself. How about a diamond ring, or tickets to the Carribean…?
Do you head out on the 26th into the madness to exchange or shop for anything?
Good lord, no. I don’t have a death wish.
Thank you so much.
Happy Holidays from my house to yours!
Author: Diane Morasco — Published: Dec 19, 2011 at 3:59 pm 0 comments
A not for the faint hearted. A fun, Round Robin Christmas message.
( We hasten to add that the following bears no resemblance to anyone we know either alive or dead. If you recognise them, let us know and we can do our best to avoid them…)
Dear Friend
Well, it’s a while since we sent out the familiar Christmas update. In fact, it has been a whole year hasn’t it? And what a year it has been! So much to share about the Cook household. First, little Johnny passed with honours his grades, 1,2,3,4,5 and 6 in trumpet.
Johnny and his trumpet... Bless.
Mike has also had an excellent year, after gaining an A, B, a pass in P.E. he was offered a place at Oxford. We are very proud and he very much enjoys being part of the team at the Oxford High Street branch of McDonalds. Not that it’s been all work and no play, Mike spent a fascinating four weeks working holiday in Pakistan, where he formed a tight network of friends and has since shared his experiences in the training camp there. Now Mike is taking a night class in chemistry and has grown a beard that looks quite fetching. He has matured so much this year he is like a different person. He has become a lot less materialistic and for Christmas only requested a large rucksack which we were
Mike, cycling back to Pakistan with his new rucksack. So proud.
Sharon has very much matured this year. You would never think she has just turned sixteen. Sharon made some wonderful socially challenging friends in Tottenham this summer and we were so proud when she appeared on the Ten o’clock news! Imagine our delight when she came home the next morning with a wide screen TV under her arm, and a wonderful new boyfriend called Clyde. Clyde is very responsible and at age 35 a little older than Sharon but we think he will be a responsible influence as he often helps the police with their enquires and all the police in the area know him. We are thrilled that Sharon has this year landed
Our Sharon, looking good.
In April we did manage a wonderful week in Japan. It was so exciting and exhilarating. We had no idea it was such a busy place and was an experience of a lifetime. We both came back with such an amazing sun-tan, which we still have now. And for that we give thanks.
The view from our hotel in Japan.
We are very excited as In October Lynda was approached via email by a wealthy Colonel in Africa. It transpires that she is to inherit a large sum of money from a recently deceased dictator. It seems that her past good works have paid off. We took out a loan to pay the expenses that they required and are now waiting for the funds to be transferred to Lynda’s bank account which should happen any day now. And we give thanks for this extraordinary good fortune that has come our way. We will be donating a large sum to charity of course.
Sadly Uncle Jack passed away this year after a bout of MRSA following his overnight hospital stay with a severe migraine (hangover). At age 46 he had had a good innings and we give thanks for that.
Our last picture of Uncle Jack. He will be sadly missed.
Mother is doing very well after her fifth amputation, second triple bypass, liver transplant and Botox surgery. She is looking forward to her skiing holiday in January.
Mum, having fun as usual.
Andrew was promoted this year to work under the COE following his PhD after HR (AKA the CTO) realised his potential. However in March he contracted ADD when a close friend was given an ASBO, and was AWOL for some weeks. His BP went sky-high and he lost his GSOH eating nothing but BLT sandwiches. After a lot of TLC from Lynda he was back at work ASAP.
We hope you have all had a year like ours and wish you a very merry Christmas and best wishes for 2012
Love Lynda and Andrew 
xx
Cuddly photos
It’s snowing outside and I felt I needed something to get me all warm inside and these photos did just that. I hope they do the same for you.
Ooh, I think that is Miranda calling. Now where did I put the phone?
Okay I know I am scatty but even I am beginning to feel it is getting out of hand. After getting locked in the loo during my book signing I actually began to wonder about all this. I mean, seriously, who manages that? As much as I admire Miranda Hart, I really do not want to be a real life Miranda but I actually fear I am.
Oh, that can’t be possible, you shout. Oh really. Let us take today for example.
Breakfast was fine, no real catastrophes there and even the journey to work was okay. Oh, yes, we writers actually go to work. One day I will be rich and famous enough to not have to but at the moment it is for the best as I am far too weary to fight off paparazzi and collect numerous awards. Dream on Lynda! So I drive to work without mishaps and even find a parking space in the health centre car park. I then climb out of the car and meet my colleague who arrives at the same time. It is here it all seems to go downhill. I feel sure, no absolutely certain in fact that something dropped from my lap and crashed to the ground. I gasp and stare in horror. Was it my glasses? Oh, god, no, it was my Blackberry. I look to my colleague, who looks perplexed. I explain something crashed to the ground. Of course, this is bearing in mind that nothing can be seen.
‘What was it?’ she asks.
Precisely. What was it? Now, tell me, how many people drop things and then do not actually know what they dropped?
‘I think it must have been my Blackberry, or perhaps my glasses.’ I say uncertainly to which she gives me one of those ‘You are nuts’ look.
We both look around us and under the car. It is as I stand up that I see my glasses are tucked into the top of my blouse. Ah, yes, of course I put them there for safety which means it was the Blackberry. Oh, wonderful. It has been bucketing down with rain and neither of us want to actually get down onto the floor and look under the car. My friend comes up with the ideal solution.
‘Reverse your car slowly and in a straight line and you shouldn’t go over it and I will shout when I see it.’
Oh no, this is the kind of thing I am not good at. I am the kind of person that will run over the Blackberry even if driving in a straight line. I can’t tell her that, so I do it. No Blackberry. If fact there is nothing under the car. My friend suggests checking my handbag and lo and behold there is my Blackberry. Red faces all around. Of course this isn’t the first time and what is worse I repeat these things often.
Once or twice having parked much too far from Marks and Spencer I have made the fantabulous decision of asking the assistant if I could collect by car and they make this exceptionally easy and foolproof. Even total idiots can’t possibly get this wrong. Lynda, of course, can. I dutifully take my little number with the velcro sticky back and make my way to the car. The pick up point is literally just around the corner. What does Lynda do? Yes, you’ve got it. She drives the whole ten miles home with the little number tab grasped tightly in her grubby little hands. Bear in mind, that the whole idea of collecting by car was to save her the time it takes to walk with the trolley to the car and back. I mean, come on…
This is the woman who buys earrings in Sainsbury’s and throws them into her carrier bag. Yes, I know, most people would place them carefully into their handbags. She then, empties the bags, missing the earrings and later uses the bag as a bin liner. Andrew often asks why earrings are in the bin. I have also been known to smother my hair in cream cleanser rather than mousse because the containers look similar. I manage to lock myself in loos. The most recent time being when I was literally in the middle of a book signing at Waterstones. The nice assistant took me upstairs, showed me the loo and then politely left me. The lock seemed a bit stiff but I didn’t want anyone barging in on me so I pushed the bolt across It took me close on five minutes to yank the bolt back. I broke two nails as well as breaking into a sweat. I must have looked quite flush when I returned downstairs. I can’t imagine what they thought I had been doing in their loo.
I have left my lap top adapters at people’s houses. A pair of very expensive trainers at a holiday home and didn’t realise until weeks later. I have left my handbag in a supermarket trolley and driven home and have been known to drag a howling cat into the house only to realise it wasn’t my cat! I have put vegetables in the steamer and then plugged in the electric kettle only to moan to Andrew when he returns home, that the steamer has broken. I have attempted to get into other people’s cars because they look like mine. I throw keys into my handbag, and by that I mean anyone’s keys.
I leave the house and lock the front door while leaving the back door wide open. I walk into the house and leave the keys in the door where they have been known to stay all night. I also have this terrible habit of throwing the house cordless phone into my handbag after using it and then taking it out with me. I seem to repeatedly shut the cat’s tail in a drawer or step on it. If he could talk I am sure Bendy would ask to be put up for adoption or seriously consider buying a gun…
Oh, had better go. I do believe that is Miranda Hart on the phone requesting to do a series on my life. Now where is the phone?
The day the cat overshadowed the bride!
I cannot remember a time when I have not had a cat. So I thought it was time to blog about my pets and Bendy in particular. As a child there was always a cat running around the house and they became my friends. Better than having an invisible friend I guess, although I think I had them too. Yes, I know, you are not surprised. One cat actually became a replacement dolly for me. We seemed to always have a cat that was in kitten when I was a child and sooner or later those kittens would run around the house too only to slowly disappear as people took them home. Kitty (not the most original name I know) was my favourite cat as a child and I remember dressing her up in bonnets and baby clothes.
Yes, you heard me correctly. How the cat put up with it I shall never know. One day I actually took her for a walk in my dolly pram and she just laid there. Another time I put her on the floor with a pillow for her head and covered her with a baby blanket and told her not to move until I came home from school for my lunch. Believe or not, she was still there on my return. Kitty would even lift the knocker on the front door when she wanted to come in. Of course even though cats were a big part of my life then and still are now, I never for one moment thought a cat would upstage me at my wedding… But as usual I digress. Of course, the worst part about owning a cat is when they depart. I have lost several cats and each time I have said I would never get another one but life without a cat is a very lonely one indeed. As an adult I have owned many cats. There was Kelly whom I had for fifteen years and what an adorable cat she was. Of course, I always believed that cats would stay with me for a long time and so after Kelly died I brought home two kittens and named them Saoirse and Roisen and thought they would be with me for fifteen years too. As you can imagine their names caused quite a problem and most people could not pronounce them and that included by then husband. I would phone the vets and say ‘Can I book Saoirse and Roisen in for their jabs’ and the receptionist would put always put them down as Mrs Lynda’s cats. Everywhere I took them they became known as Lynda’s cats. The fact that they were identical confused everyone. Sadly Roisen was knocked down by a car when she was two and Saoirse died six months later from a stroke aged almost three. The vet told us that there had obviously been some kind of interbreeding which had been the reason for the stroke. Both cats were highly strung and it does make me cross that owners do not take more responsibility for their pet’s reproduction habits. When I met my second husband and we bought our dream cottage in the country we decided to buy a dog but somehow this didn’t happen. Instead we heard through a friend that they knew someone whose cat had just had kittens and were we interested. Andrew insisted we only get one and of course I agreed. However as soon as we saw the kittens we just knew we had to have two. Six weeks after choosing them we brought Iris and Bendrix home. Iris named after my favourite author Iris Murdoch. I met Iris Murdoch’s husband just before getting our cats and was thrilled to be shown around her home. The cat we named Iris was so intelligent and human that I felt naming her after Iris Murdoch was the only thing I could do. Bendrix was immediately named after the main character in our favourite book and film ‘The end of the affair’ By Graham Green.
Bendrix and Iris as kittens
Bendrix, of course came to be known as ‘Bendy’ It was Iris, however who became the hit of the village. She would visit the local school in the morning and sit in on the lessons for a short time. The teacher allowed the children to stroke her and she stayed for part of the morning before being thrown out. She would then travel on to the allotment next to the school where everyone came to know her. Whenever we went for a walk in the village we would whistle her and like a dog she toddled along ahead of us and as soon as we whistled again she would turn around and come back.
Two little rascals
Iris was a wonderful hunter while Bendrix just sat in a box in Andrew’s office getting fatter and fatter. We figured he was depressed and though about taking him to the vet. We would watch as Bendrix tried to hunt but Iris always got there first and would drop her cast offs for him to play with and then growl at him.
Iris on the line. One of her favourite places
Bendy would eventually retreat to his box. We finally took him to the vet who said to give him time. Then we realised Iris was in kitten. I have yet to see a cat as happy as Iris was when she was carrying her kittens and even happier when they arrived. She would spend nearly an hour trying to get them outside so they could hunt with her and when we prevented it she would bring in a huge bird and teach them how to eat it…
Iris with her kittens
Meanwhile, Bendy got more depressed. Iris sadly died shortly after having her litter. A fly landed on her and hatched his eggs. We had no option but to have her put down when the vet explained the damage the maggots would do to her. We buried her at the allotment and were very touched at the number of people who knocked to say how sorry they were that we had lost her. Amazingly while we were sad and missing her dreadfully, Bendy’s spirits lifted. He started hunting and very much came into his own. He became such a great hunter that Andrew grew tired of getting up in the mornings only to step on dead corpses as he walked into the living room. Bendy had birds, mice, rats and has been known to catch Bats. One day tried to get a pigeon through the flap. It was when he started bringing home bunnies that Andrew put his foot down. At night he was to stay in the kitchen. At least that way the carnage didn’t enter the lounge. Sometimes our garden looks like a war zone. Okay a slight exaggeration. He has been the source of many problems since finding his personality. He gets into numerous fights and lost the tip of his ear in one. Another day we came home from the shops to find him nice and snug on Andrew’s computer while all around him there was blood. It was all over the floor, splattered up the wall and all over Andrew’s desk. I screamed and fled from the room not wanting to see the carnage when Andrew found it. After not finding any carnage, we checked Bendy over only to find a cyst on his neck had burst and we had not even noticed it was there.
A bandaged neck until the collar was put on.
One other thing that Bendy likes is the camera. As soon as we point it at him he begins to pose. It was with this thought in mind that the day before our wedding we bought a bow tie with the intention of putting it on him. Of course, on the morning he disappeared. He however reappeared as all the guests were settling and I was about to make my entrance into our garden where I was to walk to Andrew. At that moment Bendy jumped onto the garden wall and Andrew quickly popped on the tie. Bendy loved it and when people started photographing him he began to pose. He was the centre of attention with all the paparazzi around him. I had to wait until his photo call was over.
The best cat
And the winner is…..
Getting an award for my blog is really quite astounding to me. It rather feels like getting paid for something I love doing. If I had known this honour was going to be bestowed upon me I would have written a speech or bought some champagne. Anyway I would like to thank… whoops just a second my underskirt has got hitched. I tell you it chooses its moments. Where was I? Oh yes, thank you to my lovely friend Marcia who awarded me The Jennifer Avventura reader appreciation award. Marcia is such a brilliant listener that I really ought to be paying her what I pay my therapist. (I don’t really have a therapist and when I did, she assured me it was perfectly normal to be a little crazy) But really you should read her blog because it is brilliant and her writings are fab, so do pop over. Marcia, I mean, of course, not my therapist. As far as I know she doesn’t keep a blog, my therapist that is. Well, I do believe that is enough excitement for one day and I feel a little dance coming on. Thank you again Marcia. I only wish I could give the award back to you. Below are the rules for passing on the award. I don’t have six bloggers to give it to sadly, boo hoo.
Here’s the rules:
1. Award your top 6 bloggers who have commented the most.
2. Be thankful.
3. You cannot award someone who has already been awarded. And you cannot give the award back to me.
4. Don’t forget to tell the bloggers you’ve awarded.
5. If you don’t want to pass on this award, that’s okay too. Just admire it.
6. Link back to the person from which you received it.
The Reader Appreciation Award goes to:
Mature student hanging in there
Book shelf.
Thank you to the above for all your comments. They are very much appreciated. Many thanks also to those who take the time to read the book and thank you Marcia, whose friendship is very special and her Blog ‘Nuggets and Pearls’ is fab.
You have 72 hours to shoot the computer…
A few weeks ago our internet connection died. If I had known the hassles that were ahead of us I seriously think I would have emigrated to Australia or something. Oh, it surely wasn’t that bad, I hear you say. Oh, trust me, it was worse. But as usual I digress. So let me go back to the beginning. It all began on a Sunday night about three weeks ago. Andrew was trying to get his server onto something called a cloud. Now, don’t ask for any more information on that. Suffice it to say that he runs a business from his office and had some concerns about his personal server going down so that particular evening he was attempting to get it onto a cloud. Not a cloud in the sky you understand, although for as much as I know about it, it could well have been in the sky. Again I digress. Trust me, the server, cloud and everything else is really unimportant in this story. The next day we both toddled off to work. Well, I toddled anyway. I only work a few hours in the morning at a health centre and believe me a few hours working for the NHS is still a few hours too many. Andrew doesn’t work for the NHS and therefore works more than a few hours and is far more important than me. I left work and travelled miserably to Sainsbury’s, as you do and fought my way around the aisles. I knew exactly what I wanted but nothing goes to plan does it? It seemed something had blown up that morning so their freezer department wasn’t working properly and for some reason it affected their spit roast chickens. I did query the connection but no one seemed to know what it was. I quickly re-arranged dinner in my head and headed for the fish counter. Finally, I got to the tills where the queues were a mile long. Eventually I reach the till and am faced with twenty questions.
‘Hello, how are you? Would you like bags for your goods?’
Actually no, I thought I would carry the whole trolley load in my skirt! Or better still in a basket on my head.
Of course I want bags. But before I can answer…
‘Do you have your own bags? Do you need help packing?’
No, I don’t have my own bags and no I don’t need help packing. I mean, do I look helpless. Before you ask, I have sex three times a week, or more if I am lucky. Of course, he didn’t ask about my sex life but you know how it is? And yes I have a club card but I forgot it and no I don’t need to complete a form for a replacement as it is just at home. What an ungrateful woman you think. Well, yes, but I just want to get home and I know they are only doing their job. But really, if you have more than three things in your trolley, then obviously you need bags, right?
Next comes the bit that makes me cringe and bite my tongue. Along the conveyer with a thump come my apples followed by my pears. The bag of flour splits slightly as it is thrown along and the lady behind me gasps. Oh no, I now have to say something and then he will ring the bell and then I will wait forever for someone to get another bag. I sigh and push it into my bag. I really do not have the time. I pay and smile when he tells me to enjoy my nice things, like I have just bought an iPad rather than Mackerel and salad. Ah well… I drive home, lumber inside with my shopping and put the kettle on. Now, you can tell that already I am not in the mood for anything more dramatic than perhaps the teabag splitting. No luck for me. I realise the answer phone is bleeping like crazy and the skype phone is flashing like mad and there is a loud screeching coming from Andrew’s office. I feel an overwhelming temptation to flee while there is still time. I enter the office warily and prepare myself for the horrors that await me. I fight the temptation to scream. The computers are consistently rebooting themselves in an effort to re-establish connection and the answer machine is flashing menacingly at me. Poor Bendy quakes behind me and attempts a purr but it comes out a bit shaky. I listen to the messages with a sinking heart. Andrew’s customers can’t access the server. I phone Andrew and pop two painkillers in case. Pre-empting a headache is always a good idea I find.
‘Not to worry,’ says my calm husband. ‘It’s probably the router. I’ll sort it out when I get home.’
Andrew arrives home at about six and by ten thirty we still have no internet connection. We have a new router though which doesn’t work and irate customers who cannot access what they need. We phone BT. Well, we actually phone India, which is the same thing. We think the woman tells us it is the router. Now, I am not being racist here when I say we cannot understand her. It is just a fact, we simply can’t understand her accent, or the man who follows her, or the woman who follows him. Andrew consistently tells her it isn’t the router to which she responds.
‘Good, we agree it is router.’
Hello, are you talking to us?
We finally give up and phone our internet provider. There is a thirty minute wait. Forty five minutes later someone answers and thirty minutes later after we have turned the router on and off several times we are told the problem will be logged.
‘Someone will contact you in 72 hours. In the meantime should your connection resume please contact us.’
’72 hours,’ I repeat in a strangled voice. We don’t own a television, I want to shout. What are we supposed to do? For God’s sake, you can’t leave us for 72 hours. What are we going to do? How will I get onto Facebook? Andrew slaps me round the face and I calm down. (Obviously he didn’t slap me round the face but it sounds dramatic doesn’t it?
So, we wait 72 hours. During that time I buy a dongle which doesn’t work, or at least it does but it cost me £5 just to surf Amazon for ten minutes and five of those minutes is spent waiting to get into Amazon in the first place. Andrew suggests we use his Android phone as connection. So we do and this takes 10 mins to get into the web page and just as I order a book and go to pay, it times out. How did I ever cope in the days when we had only BT phones and no internet? Can you remember what you did when there was no internet? Anyway, as usual I digress. So, finally one afternoon 72 years later, whoops I mean hours later. It probably just felt like years. Anyway many hours later, they text Andrew at work who then in turn texts me and asks would I like to phone them as I may get the connection back. Even with a thumping headache this sounds good to me. Never again, do you hear me, never ever again, at least not with a thumping headache. The guy is named Mark and this is how it went.
‘Hello, how are you?’ Asks Mark.
‘Fine,’ replies I.
‘I need to go through the router settings with you.’
‘But we have done that already.’
‘I have nothing to say it has been done already.’
Lesson number one, do not argue with them because…
‘Well, I assure you we did.’
Phone goes dead. Now, I am not saying they do this on purpose. I mean why would they? With a thumping head I redial and wait fifteen minutes. While we wait, let me tell you something about Andrew’s office. No, better still have a look at Andrew’s office. (the picture below is just one part of the office but it would have to be the bit where the router is kept)
Now, believe it or not he knows exactly where everything is in here. And believe it or not, I don’t! I fumble around all the papers trying to find the old router. I then fall over objects as I try to plug things in while the whole time Bendy who has picked up the atmosphere is meowing around me and trying to get the airing cupboard door open with his paw.
Bendy hides in cupboard
‘Mark speaking, how can I help?’
‘We got cut off.’
Silence. Oh no!!
‘Are you there, are you there,’ I scream, slightly hysterically.
He politely gives me a web page address to type in. I start typing.
‘Are you in?’
‘Not yet.’
Was that a tut I heard?
‘This lap top is a bit slow. Ah, here we go, it says there is no internet connection.’
Surprise surprise. In fact he does sound surprised.
‘Are you certain?’
Why is it I now feel like hanging up? Finally I get into the settings and they are in Italian. I tell him this and he coughs nervously and then begins telling me to type things in but I haven’t got a clue where to type them.
‘Why is it in Italian?’
‘I don’t know’ I reply honestly.
‘Are all your settings in Italian?’
‘No.’
‘Well, that’s obviously the problem.’
‘What is?’
‘The fact it is in Italian. The best thing to do now is turn your router off, wait a few hours and then turn it on again. It should be okay now we have reset it.’
A few hours? Why does everything take hours with these people, what is wrong with minutes?
‘But, we have done that already and…’
‘The best thing is to wait until your husband gets home. He can phone us this evening.’
Wait till the husband gets home! Oh, do I see red, or do I see red? I stand up angrily, fall over the cat and curse. The phone goes dead. I am so livid I want to sue them. It has been four days now and so far all we have done is buy new routers and turn them on and off. Where is the engineer that everyone talks about? I decide it may be best to leave it to the husband. In fact, neither of us do anything and the next day it is back on. Of course it goes off again a week later but I really don’t want to put you through all that again. You will be pleased to know that after another 72 hours, copious amounts of Valium, a study clear out and a tranquilised cat, we finally got an engineer down who discovered our eighty year old wiring had gone rotten. But of course, we all know, it really is the router…
