And so it is, just like you said it would be...

Wednesday 18 November 2009


I met an interesting chap at a conference recently. An ex-Army Officer, his job is to parachute into trouble spots and deal with the families of expatriates, getting them to safety, and eventually home. Hugh was wiry and softly-spoken and on first-name terms with pretty much all of the Global Baddies. He was highly decorated, and the most modest guy in the room. His colleagues told us more about the things he had done, and I must say, if I was cowering under an Embassy table in a smoke-filled room, he'd be my first choice of rescuer. In the bar afterwards, he was talking about the stresses of his career. He had been given all the most up to date psychological assistance, debriefings, decompression chambers, the whole nine yards. But what he found the biggest yardstick of his state of mind was his washing pile. He reckoned that if the dirty stuff was piled up everywhere, he needed to stop and take stock - piles of clean kecks, and he was storming the compounds.

I'm reaching that piled-up state myself. I feel ever-so-slightly out of control - work is manic as we try to atone for a two-month lull while the our IT system played silly buggers and we achieved nothing but expanding our repetoire of hate crimes; the children have social schedules on a par with Paris Hilton; I have been up and down to London peddling my wares and sitting in stalled, unheated trains. None of which makes me the fragrant, calm lady who should be presiding over this household.

So. The Colonel has stepped in, and this is his recipe for a de-stressing evening of pre-Christmas peace:
  • He has lit a fire. I cannot think of anything more seductive and primitive than building a fire for someone you love. This is the first of the year, and the first the dog has ever seen. She has a ten-minute window while I write this, then I will be replacing her on the rug to gaze at the flames.
  • He has poured me a gigantic whisky mac. Those dear readers in recovery look away. Warming ginger and an afterburn of peat. Heaven.
  • He is playing Damien Rice's incredible album, O. If you don't have it, treat yourself immediately. It is quite the most beautiful thing you will hear this week. Play it loudly.
  • He has, quite brilliantly, arranged for Episode Three of Spooks to come on while I am eating supper.
  • There are candles lit all over the shop. It makes all hovels look wonderful and the light turns any haggard harridan into (in my case) Cate Blanchet. Excellent.
  • I have the latest Tatler to drop into the bath later.
Hugh, your pants are safe.

10 comments:

  1. Now that is sublime. Feeling better?

    ReplyDelete
  2. Three cheers for the Colonel!!

    ReplyDelete
  3. What a good colonel! I hope you've enjoyed your evening.

    ReplyDelete
  4. 1. The Colonel is a good man.

    2. You have just described my blessed life...with one exception. I pay the Orthodontist 750 dollars on Friday morning to begin the LFG "correction" process.....I'm reaching that piled-up state myself. I feel ever-so-slightly out of control - work is manic as we try to atone for a two-month lull while the our IT system played silly buggers and we achieved nothing but expanding our repetoire of hate crimes; the children have social schedules on a par with Paris Hilton; I have been up and down to London peddling my wares and sitting in stalled, unheated trains.

    ReplyDelete
  5. A military man is always No. 1 in my book (they are always so modest - so sexy!). I loved the scenerio especially when you got to the Spooks episodes (My absolute favourite show). I'll work on the whiskey part, (gin being my fav) but other than that, I'm there!

    ReplyDelete
  6. Gail, in northern California19 November 2009 at 05:37

    At least you haven't booked yourself for two events the same day. The long 4-day Thanksgiving weekend...somehow I managed to volunteer for a scholarship-Christmas wreathmaking project at the same time I'm supposed to be home with family, enjoying a leisurely Sunday morning breakfast. Thank gawd my kids are understanding (or writing it down for future reference when talk turns to putting mom in a home.)

    ReplyDelete
  7. Tish, James & KLS - yes, thank you. Have awoken less like Margaret Thatcher on steroids and more like Betty Draper. I give it til lunchtime.

    ADG - luckily we Europeans criminally neglect our childrens' teeth, so at least I don't have that worry. Bet I can trump you on hate crimes...

    Lisa - gin, whisky, vodka, Old Spice, drain cleaner. I'm not fussy. Can you get the current series wherever you are?

    Gail - How awful for you, and how embarrassing. I know which one I'd rather do. Hang the coal in my stocking!

    ReplyDelete
  8. What a dear guy! I can totally relate to that out-of-control feeling when things start to pile up around you: laundry, bills, paperwork, toys, etc. It can get so overwhelming you just want to crawl under the covers and not deal with it. But, a good purging is always good for the soul. I think that's on the horizon for the weekend. :)

    ReplyDelete
  9. Wonderful post - can almost relax as well in your luxuriousness - and Whisky Macs - mmm - my favourites, especially on Christmas Day ... - my father (an ex- Military man makes a mean one!)...
    And then your last comment(!) - I laughed out loud - fantastic!!

    ReplyDelete
  10. JMW - good luck this weekend. Fancy tackling mine when you're finished?

    Anoninoz - thanks so much. Just worked out what your name is! Been a long week. So nice to meet you.
    E

    ReplyDelete

Please leave a comment if you can be remotely bothered - anything you have to say is valuable and I absolutely love hearing from you all. Elizabeth