Friday, 9 January 2009

"Gotta Go to Goa..."

To any faithful readers and semi-interested parties ( the goings-on of a shambolic London household), I apologize for my long absence from the 'blog-o-sphere'. It has taken awhile to get semi-back-to-normal after the craziness that was the Christmas season. I don't care if I never see a glass of wine, champagne or cheese again...and I don't know what I was thinking agreeing to be voluntarily bikini-clad so soon after the season of gastro-gluttony. Ah well - it shall give the randy single Indian students (who patrol the beaches in whispering/giggling groups) something to stare at.

As we are leaving tomorrow and it's already dinnertime and I haven't so much as packed a sarong, I suppose I should be more worried than I am. However the only thing causing me mild concern at the moment are my legs which due to the recent cold spell have not seen the light of day for some time and are looking less than lovely and not at all smooth and silky (sigh).

I started the laborious task of waxing a little while ago, but unfortunately Dumpie took a great interest in the task and would shout 'Ouch!" everytime I peeled off a strip, then got brave and started dipping his little fingers in the wax and...well...I don't have to tell you where that mess was going. At that point Egg wandered in, bored from cartoons, and proceeded to grill me for several minutes on the inconsistancies which dictate that a female should (ideally) be 'hair-free' and a male 'hairy'. I think he still remains confused. (Come to think of it so am I. Given the great pain of childbirth you'd think that some clever woman long ago might have flipped the gender stereotype which dictates that women have to voluntarily massacre their tender skin on a weekly/monthly basis and men can just 'let themselves go' in that department....)

You notice that I haven't yet alluded to the 9+ hour charter flight which awaits us in less than 24 hours. That is because a) I realize how fortunate we are to escape the winter cold for such an exotic climate in the middle of dreary January, and it seems spoiled to complain b) having been a few months since our last long-haul flight, much like the pain of childbirth, the trauma of child-ridden travel feels distant and I naively feel that 'this time might be different' and finally c) provided Jay and I can unearth an old valium and go 'splitsies' on it, we might just be able to get through the trip with minor mental anxiety.

Dumpie now being over 2, this is the first flight where we've been forced to cough up FOUR whole air fares (gulp) instead of three and though it may leave us dismally out of pocket, it ensures that Jay and I won't be bickering about who has to hold the chubby Dumps on their lap. (Saying that, Dumpie for whatever reason used to prefer MY lap the majority of the time, and I have a sneaking suspicion that seat or no seat, he's going to insist on same this round again. Our expensive seat shall likely be used to store garbage, books and unwanted meals.)

Anyway, i'd best be off. There is every likelihood that I shall blog from India provided Jay doesn't insist on a totally remote and deserted area which is devoid of internet. My goals this trip are to read (Ha! As if! Two small boys around water and danger 24/7...? Fat chance of that....), to sunbathe (ditto), and to steer clear of tailors and any hare-brained schemes to get clothes fashioned for me.

Whether I succeed on any front remains to be seen. Stay tuned....adios my friends! (NOTE: As I write this Dumpie is running around with his blue sunglasses on grinning and pulling his fake his father he's already into the holiday spirit)

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