I’ve just had an automated email from KLM, asking me to give feedback on my recent flight to Humberside from Bangkok. My granddad used to say to me, “if you haven’t got anything nice to say then don’t say anything at all.” I will not, therefore, be completing the feedback survey. 

To be honest, though, there wasn’t anything particularly terrible about this flight, but, well … is it just me .. or.. well  you are like me and you find having to sit 11 plus hours with a perfect stranger on a plane brings out your inner cringy, socially awkward, stammering child? If so these strategies may help.

• Whatever the circumstances do not make eye contact with fellow passengers. Not even if your neighbour drops their knife into your dinner tray, spills their dinner tray onto your lap or even has the audacity to change your in-flight entertainment channel when you are snoozing, so that they can multi-view. (These have all happened to me.)

• Keep your arms folded for the duration of the whole flight. Being cramped and uncomfortable is preferable to the armchair arm jig, that will otherwise require your engagement with said fellow passengers.

• Go to the bathroom before getting on the plane. This will avoid craning your neck several times to avoid toilet queues or being freaked out by the ‘whoosh’ of the aeroplane toilet that never fails to fright. (Yes, I usually really can hold my bladder for a whole day or night!)

• In the unfortunate situation that you cannot wait to go the bathroom any longer, under no circumstance disturb your neighbour or attempt to climb over their sleeping frame. This can lead to intimacy with undesired consequences, such as accidentally sitting on their private areas.

• Ensure that you have removed anything you may need from your overhead baggage to avoid awkward manoeuvres during the flight which may result in you dropping something onto your fellow passenger’s aforementioned private places.

• Ideally do not use the overhead container at all, and instead use the under-seat space, quite doable, if you are prepared to squish your knees up to your chest.

• When the flight attendant mishears what you would like to drink, take what’s offered with a smile.

• Curse inwardly at the plastic waste, but under no circumstances voice your environmental concerns. KLM flight attendants are notoriously scary - my hunch is that they think they are just epitomising the characteristic and arguably stereotypical, Dutch forthrightness -but they are actually frightening!

• Be stoic and uncomplaining in the case of having faulty earbuds or inflight consoles. 11 hours of silent, eye avoidance, leg cramped, arm folded activity can be fun.

• In the following situations smile warmly and say it is fine:

The child behind you kicks your seat continually for 11 hours.
The passenger in front of you reclines their seat to its max for the duration of all meals.
The inflight attendant spills hot coffee on your lap.
The inflight attendant gives you a meal you didn’t request.
The inflight attendant forgets to give you wine or bread roll with dinner (this particularly applies to vegetarians).

• Smile and say it doesn’t matter as the trolley catches your ankle for the umpteenth time, when you have the worst seat, next to the toilets at the back of the plane.

• Upon landing, don’t acknowledge any smelly armpits, bumped heads, or squished bodies as you remove your luggage from the overhead rack and wait standing for a good twenty minutes to depart the plane, such has been your haste to depart.
• When in transit at Schiphol head quickly to the back of the airport where all the city hopper flights to the UK leave from. Once there don’t make eye contact with either the scary oil rig workers or the drunken hen/stag party participants.

I’ve decided that part of embracing change entails embracing my mid-life crisis, and thus I find myself co-owner of a rather fabulously loud and attractive Porsche Boxster S (the co-owner says the ‘S’ is important!).
 
We’ve ended up with this car for various reasons:

• I couldn’t easily reach the pedals of my husband’s Lotus Elise and to be honest, even though Saint Mick of Thana is a saint, I could tell he really thought he should be sole driver of it.
• The Land Rover Defender 90 that Mick would have ideally liked to buy is bigger than our drive or garage. (No long leafy blocked paved drives for us!) and the car would have looked a bit silly standing in it. Also, we do not go to welly wearing areas; do not own a horse; have no intention of owning a horse and therefore, to my mind, do not need a Land Rover, (I’m missing the point says the co-owner of the Boxster S).
• The Land Rover we used to drive when we lived in Tanzania definitely spent more time off, than on, the road and during the few times it did run smoothly, seemed to have a  tendency to get very warm under the passenger seat. I was never entirely comfortable with this added buttock warming feature. (The co-owner of the Boxster S did point out that this unintended feature was actually part of the appeal of the Range Rover we owned in Tanzania, not the magnificent Land Rover we had prior to that ‘upgrade’, but I remain unconvinced of the truth of that claim).
• The buttock warming feature in the Porsche has a switch and the level of heat emitted to the aforementioned area is controllable and thus desired.
• I didn’t want a mini in the UK as lots of cool fifty something females already drive them. I would, however, like one very much in Bangkok (if you are reading co-owner!)
• We both agreed that we would like a ‘cool’ car, and though our criteria of what is ‘cool’ may differ slightly, particularly in terms of how fast a car should go, we agreed that a Porsche hit the spot.

 
It was a great choice! There is little doubt in my mind, that whenever I go out in the Porsche I make an impression. I am enjoying the experience of being a super cool, fifty something girl-racer around town. So, to other would-be Porsche drivers, if you heed the following advice you won’t go far wrong:

• Prepare to be looked at, especially if you drive slowly with the roof down, or forget to use the winkers. Other road users seem to expect an undesirable level of speed on country roads. Their gestures when driving at a steady 28 miles an hour suggest a certain impatience that is unwelcome and unbecoming. Do not let those ‘road-ragers’ fluster you.

• In cases of stalling a Porsche, it seems you have to actually take the key right out to get things moving again. Be aware that this may leave you stationary in undesirable spots.  These include:
  • Railway crossings. Do not panic if you find yourself having stalled on a train track.    Calmly and efficiently remove key, remember (preferably quite quickly) to press the  clutch to restart the engine and move forward away from on-coming train lights    promptly.
  • Parking spaces. In these situations other vehicles may not realize that you have not fully removed your own vehicle from the parking space and you may thus find yourself in imminent danger of being run into. In these cases again do not scream or swear, but gently use your hooter to warn the approaching vehicle of your presence. Be proud that you have aided other drivers in avoiding an accident and ignore any unbecoming gesticulations from them.
  • Traffic lights. In this situation it is essential that when you have restarted the engine, you don’t then go through the lights at red in order to reduce the queue of traffic building behind you, as this can lead to other undesirable outcomes.

• Accept that driving a Porsche will lead to a certain level of noise pollution. This is known to some as 'straight-six music' and is revered by some Porsche drivers, but if it is not to your taste then turning up the stereo loudly, ideally when listening to a favourite programme, such as Women’s Hour or The Archers solves this. It also seems to amuse other road users.

• To avoid embarrassment and queue formation learn how to open the petrol tank before arriving at the station. Note that in the UK, unlike Bangkok, protocol demands that you do not sit and wait for an attendant to fill your car with petrol, clean your windscreens and give you a bottle of water. There is an archaic and quaint expectation of getting out of the car, independently using the pump, before paying at a counter inside a building before driving off. Do not be perturbed that this means other cars in line for petrol have to wait an unnecessarily long time for their turn at the pump.

• Be sure to check that elderly relatives can extricate themselves from tight-fitting Porsche seats before inviting them for a ‘joy-ride’.

​Obviously I’m joking, well….at least in part!
 
I do find it interesting though that I have been a little bit hesitant about driving the Porsche and also just a bit self-conscious about glances from other road users. Perhaps it’s just that I’m an introvert, or maybe singing loudly to Abba would attract stares whatever car I was driving! I wonder, though, why I don’t just boldly say that I enjoy driving a fast car and I feel I have to be almost apologetic about becoming a, what do they call it, ‘petrol head’? It seems that, not for the first time I’m not being true to my feminist self! So, embracing the change, in all it’s forms, I boldly state that hence forth I will be loud and proud in my revving and my racing!
 
However, if anyone out there does have a nice Land Rover Defender 90 for sale, give me a shout. I may be able to find a good home for one! 

Sometimes change can feel overwhelming, but a little bit of positivity can go a long way. Public health warning - earnest blog post coming up! 
 
Many of my friends and family know that last September I gave up my full time position as Head of Libraries at Bangkok Patana School. This freed me up to spend a greater percentage of my year living at home in Lincolnshire, in the UK, than that afforded by visiting in regular school holidays. 
 
The arrangement isn’t perfect. My brain often seems to lag behind where the rest of my body is, worrying needlessly about things that it cannot change in a country that it isn’t even in. And, of course, I miss the people in my family who I'm not currently with. My two home bases are a bit far apart and time travel would be welcome: Bangkok and Broughton definitely need shoving a bit nearer to each other. However, as a way of embracing two different lifestyles, and keeping a foot in two worlds and enjoying time with family who happen to live thousands of miles apart, I think I can announce that living in two countries is distinctly doable.
 
Since quitting work during the time I’ve spent in Bangkok I’ve largely been a lady of leisure. Some might say I’ve been living the expat dream! Five thirty morning starts are a thing of the past; coffee and cake feature most days; and on some mornings my biggest decision is whether to have my breakfast at the club house, before or after my morning swim. In my defence, if one is needed, I structure my days purposefully, (admittedly sometimes around watching Homes under the Hammer) and have committed to a range of self-improving literary and physical activities (this sounds more torturous than it actually is!) In addition, I’ve tentatively become a living embodiment of a city explorer. I’ve accomplished tasks that have had me venturing out on the sky-train and into the big smoke on enough occasions to not even be able to count - well, at least not on one hand...
 
I can justify my leisurely Bangkok life (for now at least) as I have been busier during my time spent in the UK. In fact, I have made time to move house, renting out our much loved, but very tired little cottage. Note to self: next time you move house, remember to check with the family first. “Mum, you’ve moved house and didn’t even tell us!” “Ah, sorry kids.” We’ve moved into a really lovely bungalow, just across the street from my mum and dad. Another note to self, Don’t take someone else’s credit: Thanks Rob and Anne for making the bungalow beautiful for us. Living there has been a success and I very much enjoyed our whole family’s first Christmas there. I am even confident that once I have learned to allow the kids to sit on the velvet mustard sofa, whilst eating chocolate at the same time, that they might enjoy living there too!
 
The proximity to my mum and dad’s house means that my mission of never giving them a minute’s peace has been an unmitigated success. They in turn pretend not to mind too much when I get bossy accompanying them to hospital appointments, and forcing them on trips down memory lane, playing old vinyl LPs, (do you ever feel you are being humoured?), An added bonus of being in England more frequently is that I can also see more of my lovely eldest daughter, Annie, studying in London, than I would have otherwise been able to. I’m steadfast in my belief that when she calls my enthusiasm to visit and stay in her digs ‘extra’, that she does actually mean it as a compliment.
 
Weather wise, (now I’m in the UK more I’m embracing the English culture of talking about the weather) I get the best of both worlds. For the first time, in twenty plus years I could watch Autumn kick Summer into touch. And as Summer seems to be never far from the doorstep in Bangkok, I haven’t minded Winter at all. Nothing like a crisp blue sky to blow away the cobwebs.
 
I thought I might worry about the things I am missing out on when I’m not in Thailand, but in my absence, things in Bangkok seem to run smoothly. My husband, affectionately known by my friends as “Saint Mick of Thana", has not only accepted, but relished, the primary parent role  to our, admittedly practically grown up, youngest daughter, Betsy. His responsibilities extend to chauffeur to confidante to cinema buddy, to birthday gift shopper, to snack provider to sleep enforcer, to ‘you’ve got this IB, mate’ encourager. They are great buddies.
 
At work things haven’t fallen apart either. I know right, a little bit annoying, but at least I’m not wracked with guilt at having let the school down. The large conference we’d spent a year planning successfully went ahead without me; the Kids’ Lit competition, first one in Thailand was a rip-roaring success without me, and the wrangles about whether bags should be allowed in the library or not, seem to be occurring, without me.  And what’s more I’m nearly in a place where I don’t really mind all that ‘without me’ input.
 
The reality is that I can’t be defined as teacher, or librarian anymore. My roles as mum, wife, daughter and friend are still as strong as ever, but even there the job description has changed. I do far more commuting and less one-on-one conferencing. The communication channels required now rely heavily on electronic devices, but there are lots of opportunities for personal development and growth in these changing expectations and locations. The dual based nature of the role affords itself both flexible hours and lots of travel opportunities. 
 
I am currently on a plane flying back to see family in UK. I’m grateful and excited to have the chance to do so. I am, of course, missing Mick and Betsy but I know that they are fine. I also know I’m very lucky. I have a supportive family, good friends who make plans for when I’m in town (looking forward to being back in Bangkok for book-club ladies), excellent wi-fi so I can keep in touch; and importantly a healthy awareness that looking for the benefits and perks of having two homes is a positive thing to do. So, with this positive growth mindset to the fore, (hope it lasts!) I will post this blog and ‘embrace the change’!

From sea and sand to being allowed to sit on the sofa! 

I was having coffee with a friend yesterday who asked me what I typically do at the beach.  I ‘laughed out loud’ and asked if she imagined that I have long soulful walks, perhaps holding hands with my husband, as we plotted our perfect retirement together, as the waves gently lapped round our ankles. Meantime my daughter would be reclining at the poolside reading self-improving literature guaranteed to help her obtain optimum exam grades. She responded with a raised eye-brow. 
​
It got me thinking though, as it is this picture postcard perfect existence that most of my friends and I portray on social media. Take today for example: my family did travel to the beach, so a typical facebook post might say, ‘yummy  dinner at a our favourite Italian, after a fab day surfing the waves.’ I’d perhaps follow this with a beaming photo of us all holding raised glasses and a jaunty close up of our pizza and tirimasu making my facebook friends salivate with envy! And it would be … well one version of the truth.
 
A different version might be less palatable.
 
I most categorically would not post anywhere that I had woken up several times during the night with a glass half full of half-term angst, and even a shot or two of half-term anger. Details not necessary! Internal dialogue during this morning’s preparations would be kept strictly off -line. (Why did questioning the size of the suitcase I’d opted for evoke such a response?) Equally, I wouldn’t tell anyone that the dog had been sick on the floor, in the same way that I wouldn’t remind everyone that many years ago both our children had vomited on the toes of a customer at the very restaurant we were going to that evening.  Weirdly, it’s the main reason we go back, but sharing that would be paramount to ‘too much information’.
 
I wouldn’t share my distress (only visible in more internal dialogue) at our eleventh hour plan to have breakfast on the journey, because it would be fun. Neither would I mention my self-congratulatory magnanimity for not kicking off when we were stuck in Bangkok traffic for an extra two hours, due to our late departure from the city, due to the aforementioned breakfast. Also, I doubted that I’d bother to snap the avocado, tomato and scrambled eggs served, slowly, with the avocado and tomato missing, for my pinterest ‘delicious meals’ folder.
 
What I might do is try to paint a slightly better version of myself with a little exaggeration or inclusion of half-truths ...
 
For example, at some point during our journey, I might make a quick comment on twitter about listening to #ReasonsToBeCheerful podcast. The irony of listening to a podcast about well intentioned lefties feeling guilty about sending their kids to private schools would be appreciated by my teacher chums … ( I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, our own school is non-profit-making!) I might try and make myself look smart by posting a further comment about having moved on to listening to #InOurTime podcast.  In it Melvyn Bragg and a very posh lady discussed Klimt’s Judith. At length, I might add. I probably wouldn’t include that this podcast sent me straight to sleep, though I might say that coincidentally we had a print of the copy of Judith hanging in our UK cottage, but would omit that it had gone mouldy because the house is damp.
 
And on it goes …I’d definitely mention that I had listened to #Fortunately podcast, because that is funny and I do so want to be mates with Jane and Fi. I wouldn’t though, say that I put on my headphones for that bit, as what would that reveal about the ‘sisterhood’.
 
And on it goes and on it goes … with my picking and choosing the ‘best bites’ of my days, weeks, months and years, to inauthentically appear authentic.
 
I am, then, an outed fifty something facebook fibber and sharer of fake news. Do I need treatment for this illness? Should I be banned from ever darkening the doors of social media ever again? Should I make a stand and share a more palatable reality? Does anyone really want to air their actual dirty washing in public? Well certainly not me, and if that is what is required to be an authentic user of social media please don’t expect many facebook posts from me in the future!

And here's why ...

• It is something Austen's Wickham or Emma would celebrate. Misguided creatures.
• If you innocently arrange an evening out with a friend, not realising it is Valentines day, people stare and surmise and make two and two equal five. 
• It is not inclusive and too many of youngsters and oldsters self-esteem and self-worth and all round well-being may have taken a battering today, if Mr/Ms Valentine didn't call.
• It makes those with a broken heart maudlin and those with a new romance insufferable. This is particularly vomit inducing with so much media these days. 
• It sucks you in and makes you form an opinion, very seldom formed on reason, but rather on your own level of Valentine's success.
• It is a commercial racket. I bet Amazon are making millions and they don't even pay their taxes.
• When your husband arrives home on Valentines day and crashes out with a headache, fast asleep within two seconds of entering the house and still wearing his shoes, it matters more. 
• It is a day people celebrate without even knowing the origin of it. BBC newsround does explain it here so we don't need to worry about the younger generation: https://www.bbc.co.uk/newsround/16945378.​
• It reinforces gender stereotypes and promotes western culture above others.
• It leaves some with broken hearts when their proposals are turned down on Valentine's day.

Did I celebrate Valentine's day? No. 
Am I being dramatic because my only Valentine's gift was a very woebegone rose, bought for me, at break, by my daughter at school. Maybe, though it was sweet of her (see, there I go buying in to the day).
Will I reconsider the above if I suddenly am swamped with beautiful red roses? Definitely. 

But for now I'll go curl up with Pride and Prejudice and fantasise about the lovely Mr Darcy. I bet he'd hate Valentine's day too.