My mother in law etc etc

My mother-in-law, I haven’t spoken to her now for two years. We haven’t fallen out, I just don’t like to interrupt her.

The standard bar room comedian joke from the 70’s sums up the cliché we all like to paint of the infamous MIL.

Mine is far from the Cliché though, she loves to talk and she loves the written word but she is more a fan of Keats and Shelly than Dawson and Manning.

We first met in 1999 and I am sure she was horrified that her beautiful, well-educated and spoken daughter had brought home this big lump with a cheap suit and K Town accent.

I don’t think in those early days we were sure what to make of each other and I don’t remember when exactly the middle ground was struck, time dims the memory, but it was more likely a mutual enjoyment of Shakespeare and literature than a love of cider and Liverpool FC.

We never debated the pros and cons of cloudy cider or the benefits of the zonal marking system, but we always seemed to be debating. There were never much in the way of silences around Brenda, apart from once in the early days when I mistakenly called her Barbara over dinner a couple of times!

Nearly all my amazing memories of Brenda involve food. A wonderful cook and an appreciative eater, food was never far from the agenda over the years. Her cooking is nothing short of magnificent and the fact her barbeque sauce is not on every Tesco shelf in the country is a crime.

Growing up in London in the sixties, Brenda’s parents were very Irish and Catholic. Brenda went to a Convent school and was instilled with the sort of strong beliefs and impeccable morals that last a life time. 

She met her husband Peter when the Mini and the fab four held sway over the world and they formed a bond that has kept them together for nearly 50 years.

Over the time I have known them, virtually the only days they spent apart has been while Brenda travelled back and forth to London to look after her mum who sadly passed away two years ago in her late 90’s

Like a lot of loving wive's, mother's and grandma's family is everything to her. Mother of three, grandma to four and wife to one, she is the glue that holds together a really beautiful family that I count myself lucky to be a part of.

The reason that I am banging on about Brenda is that we are going to lose her.

It was in the spring of 2011 that we first learnt she had cancer. There is never a good place to have cancer but there are plenty of bad ones and pancreatic is about the worst. Brenda has fought it all this time with amazing strength, courage and dignity but it looks now like there is only going to be one winner.

It’s a shockingly cruel blow. Death by a thousand cuts, losing her ability to enjoy food, get out walking, even the simple pleasure of reading the books she so dearly loves are gradually being taken away from her.

It has been sickening watching the family suffering, knowing that there is nothing you can say or do to ease it. Fielding questions from your own children about “Graminana” being ill and if she is going to live.

 Watching your wife trying to come to terms with the thought of losing someone so important to her is a tough place to be.

That tough place though doesn't compare to the admiration I feel for witnessing first hand a truly heroic husband who has summoned the strength of a thousand men to look after his every reason for living. 

Watching a close family come together in hope that there will be happy outcome only to see a tragically unfair ending.

That is cancer though; nothing is fair about it. I have lost too many loved ones and friends to it as have so many people, just really hoped this battle might have gone in our favor.

She is still hanging in there though Brenda, or Breezy as we now call her due to her wonderfully nicknamed wheel chair.

The distance between us hasn’t dimmed any of the hurt ‘A’ or I are feeling and I wish more than anything we weren’t so far away, ironically in a country she dearly loves.

I suppose really I just want to let her know that I am thinking about her and have loved all the great times we have shared over the years.

From the washed out barbeques and cooking sausages in the snow at Easter, to great times in France in swim wear glugging wine, it has been a pleasure to be part of the family.

Brenda is going to lose her battle but the memories of an amazing 14 years spent with her will last forever. I think I just want everyone who doesn’t know her to hear a little bit about what a great woman she is.

My Mother-in-law…………. She is really quite amazing, just wanted to let her know that I love her.

Death on the school run!

Just when you think you have seen it all in India from the gut wrenchingly cruel to the faith revivingly sweet, something comes along and shocks you all over again.Once you have become complacent about your surroundings, something awakens you with a lightning bolt size reality check.

I have just got back from Blighty were I was constantly hearing phrases like "uncertain times ahead" and "could get worse before it gets better" and ridiculously, "more and more people living below the poverty line". I frequently have - what now sound increasingly pathetic - conversations about how hard it is to get good housekeepers and drivers!

Nobody is truly living below the poverty line in the UK. they may be according to some W.H.O. statistic but in reality we see nothing like the poverty in Blighty anywhere that you can't see on every street corner in one of India's most cosmopolitan cities.

The fact that our drivers don't speak perfect English and our housekeeper doesn't dust the tops of the door frames without being prompted frankly make us look moronic.

Pretty much everybody I know in the world are incredibly lucky on a grand scale. We all have our ups and downs but on the whole we live a privileged and lucky life. Even though here our kids witness poverty and suffering on a daily basis, they don't have to live in it. Children back in Blighty may learn a bit about it in school and see horrors and suffering on the TV but they never have to see it in the flesh.

Imagine what a shock it was then at 2.30 yesterday afternoon on the school run on a beautiful sunny afternoon on Delhi's equivalent of the North Circular to come across two dead bodies on the side of the road!

When I say two dead bodies, one was undoubtedly dead, a man of indistinguishable age due to his severe malnutrition. The other, a young boy, clearly was breathing his last laying in a crumpled heap covered in flies.With the traffic stopped due to a jam up ahead we were parked right next to them. It was the most astonishing thing to witness as people just walked passed them as if they were not there. As if they see this thing all the time. The truth is, they probably do.

They looked like the sort of images we see on the evening news from Rawanda or a famine ridden African country, but here we were in an upmarket suburb of Delhi. With people crossing the road to avoid them and covering their mouths and noses with their handkerchiefs eventually, two young guys stopped and got out their mobile phones.

Who they would have called I don't know because there is no ambulance service here. Not everyone gets a level of care to sustain their health and dignity that we get just by the luck of being born in to great privilege. Whatever happened to them they were removed because several hours later I had to drive past again. I would bet though that they lay there for a good few hours first.

Who these two people were or how they got to be in that situation I will obviously never know. I do know though that The sight of the man laying there with head tilted back and eyes and mouth wide open twisted in agony will live with me forever. It is a sight people should not accept in a civilised society and one I just hope Raffi never got a good enough look at to comprehend (I made him keep his eyes closed).

I felt completely useless. In Blighty, you know you will most likely live your whole life and never have to witness a dead body. If you did come across one in the streets though you would know exactly what to do. Here, I was hamstrung and helpless with no idea what to do. I hope I never have to witness this again but I will make it my priority to find out what I can do to help so if -God forbid- it happens again I will be equipped.

I do know that next time I am bemoaning the fact that my housekeeper forgot to get milk or I hear someone moaning about what a mess the UK is in and that the NHS doesn't work, I shall think of that face and thank my lucky stars.

A beautiful place to be alive.

It has been quite a while since my last blog and this has been for two reasons. The first is that Indianhousehusband became incredibly busy with several different projects and the second one was probably a lack of inspiration. I had become a bit blase about my surroundings as we all do eventually. Now I am back from a Blighty trip and seeing things with a new set of eyes and a renewed vigour. Sometimes a holiday is all it takes to really appreciate what is going on around you.

Over a year now in Delhi! One year, I can't believe it has gone so fast. So much has happened that I hardly know where to begin. I have had the lows of finding out about my mum and cousins cancer and the death's of far too many friends. To the highs of seeing my mum and dad here fit and well and visiting the mountains of Kashmir. Mixed into all this has been gallons of tears and sweat, tons of frustration and anger but most of all lots of truly fantastic times and laughter.

After 6 weeks back in Blighty it is a real pleasure to be home. Spending time with friends and family is and was great and the welcome we got from both sets of parents was amazing but nothing can replace the comfort of home and I was ready for my return.

After stepping off the plane at Delhi, the old familiar smells hit you, as does the sweat but these are great sensations, home sensations, the sort of sensations you stop noticing until you leave and come back.

Just the car journey from the airport to our house was enough to bring a big smile to my face.The usual Delhi cliche's all look brand new and hilarious again. The traffic didn't matter, nor did the heat or the pollution because everyone seemed to be smiling. It is the first thing I noticed. I think one of my earliest blogs mentioned that a broad smile was always returned and it is something that you come to take for granted but after 6 weeks back in Blighty it comes as a welcome relief.

I was greeted at the local milk stand like a returning war hero. Our local grocery store owner Mr Merry wanted to hug me and the fruit and veg stall guy gave me a pineapple! The boys and I walked to the market in the rain and reacquainted ourselves with all the security guards in Shanti Niketan, who still seem to find us a constant source of fascination. One pointed out to me that it was raining which though unnecessary and completely stating the obvious, was just wonderful. We were all soaked through and the boy's were jumping around in the puddles but someone still felt they should perhaps point it out in case we had missed it!

A friend of ours Toby, said to me recently.

"India. It's just a beautiful place to be alive"

I agreed with him at the time but my brief absence has made me really feel it again.

It is so fantastic to be home!

Delhi's missing piece

Just lifted the following passage from a blog I did in July last year:

www.Indiansingledad.com!
It is has been a strange week for the artist formerly known as Indanhousehusband. The loss of the better half has been a strange experience. It started out with a horrible foreboding, yet has actually been a good confidence booster. There was a huge amount of anxiety that very quickly slipped away on 'A's' departure.

Roll on ten months and again I have become Indiansingledad. 'A' has returned back to Blighty for ten days on business and the contrast in emotion couldn't be more different to back in July.

I think I massively down played the sheer terror I felt the last time I was left 'home alone'. I remember the first day 'A' was gone thinking to myself; how am I going to get through five nights completely alone? Five nights!! That should have been a holiday, not a chore, but it was really tough. I felt completely exposed and slightly resentful. It was the first time and probably the only one through this whole experience were I genuinely felt emasculated. It should be me flying back on business and earning the rupees while 'A' looks after the boys and wonders how she will fill the days, but it was me. I got my head down and got on with it but couldn't wait for the moment 'A' returned and when she did, there was no feeling of pride that I had coped and everything was OK. It was just pure relief!

Move on to now and 'A' has been gone a week tomorrow and if truth be known it feels like a day! It is now much harder for her to be leaving the boys than for me to be on my own with them.I think that is a sign of how much I have changed and learned throughout this time. Nothing worries me about the boy's now, my relationship with them is incredibly different to back in July. I don't have to think too much or pre plan anything with them, everything just kind of happens naturally. I feel more skilled and more capable as a Dad than I ever did before becoming the house husband and that is something I will always be thankful for.

The real problem this time has been that I have missed my wife for selfish reasons. Not like before were 'A' was the scaffolding that held the family together, I can do that now and don't need that support. I miss her because Delhi, despite it's 16 million population feels kind of empty without her.

Every day here we see something that astounds us and that 'something' is what we share with each other. It is the little things that annoy other people that we love that make it 'our India' and our home. We both have 'love India days' were our love for the country gets cranked up another notch. We often speak during the day and 'A' will say "Having a huge love India day today" and I will feel the same. Unfortunately till she is back I can't have a true 'love India day', I need my Indianworkingmum back to appreciate everything here, I need the population to be 16 million and one!

Hurry back 'A' we miss you loads.

Raf, Sil and 'G'

Life and Death

Too many people I know are dying. I know in some Freudian way we all are, but I just wish it would slow down a bit. Four of my friends have died within the last six months, a count that is surely way out of the average. My family back in Blighty are turning into professional mourners, trudging from one funeral to the next and it is all getting pretty depressing. I daren't even answer the phone to home anymore for fear of more bad news, it is time now for it all to stop please!

Bad news is the one thing that really brings distance home here in Delhi. It is really difficult to grieve when you haven't got anyone else to share it with. At home we would have gone out for drinks and reminisced about great nights out and youthful follies but here in our little ex-pat bubble it means nothing to anyone else.

You can't tell the mums at the school gate you lost a friend yesterday, what do they care, they didn't know him. So you just get on with it. Have a quiet thought for the person on the day of the funeral and keep on keeping on. It didn't help that last week was the one year anniversary of The Bogan's death ('A' and I's best man). Barely a day has passed over that year were I haven't thought about him and the emotion is still pretty raw.

It has made me think so much more about my own mortality,something that has never bothered me at all. When life is bordering on the perfect death makes you realise how quickly it can all be taken away from you, how short our time is and how much needs to be crammed into it. The truth is that life at the moment is bordering on the perfect. We are so happy in India and I can't think of one down side to living here other than it is going so fast. Our first year is nearly up and it has gone in the blink of an eye. The weeks and months are flying away and I wish I could just put my foot on the brake and slow it all down a bit.

It only seems days since we received the terrible news about my mum. At the time my first thought was would she ever see us out here? Would she survive that long? Really terrible thoughts that now seem in the dim and distant past after she is Finally in recovery and has made it out here with Dad.

Emotion was running high when I greeted them at the airport, I think Mum had probably gone through the same thought process as me. Now she was finally here standing in our garden, the reality hit home and the tears came. It was like we had put the final big full stop at the end of what has been a terrible sentence. She didn't look great (I subsequently found out that was more to do with 5 glasses of wine and 5 brandy's on the plane and a hangover as opposed to the cancer) but I didn't care, she was here, alive and well and we were going to make the most of it.

Make the most of it we did too. We flew down to Goa and had a fabulous time on the beach. Real happy times, Seeing mum and dad with the boys - who's worship of them is at hero proportions - was something that will stay in the memory for a long time. Days were spent on the beach and round the pool and as the colour came back to mums skin it was like watching her come back to life again. Evenings were spent boozing and laughing and buying 80 quid bottles of wine because dad Miss-read the menu! Normal Conde fun stuff,living your life stuff, cramming it all in stuff and forgetting the past stuff.

I realised while I was down there that these are the times that you 'put the brake on',Slow everything down a little bit, take a step back and soak it all up. Life can seem to be running away too fast but you just have to stop and take a look around you and savour the great times.

That is my intention from now on, I am going to make the most of the time we have here in India and savour every last moment. Appreciate all the terrific times we have to come and have a ball. Bogan, Danny, Lee, Jean and Jambie would have liked that.

Danger! Decent cricket break out!

Saturday morning Siri Fort sports complex and the latest venue for the monthly British school dad's massacre. I wrote this intro 3 days before the latest game but things didn't quite go to plan. In a bizarre twist of fate and please whisper it,the British school dad's are in danger of forming a reasonably solid unit!

We turned up on a beautiful summer morning to be confronted by a site rarely seen before. A proper cricket ground! No mats, no cardio-thoracic hospital windows for Jamie to smash and no strange rock formations at deep mid wicket! We were all in whites and looking rather professional, ready to take on the team Toby (Henceforth to be called Splitter)Porter had put together from Save the Children.

We won the toss and with Splitter Porter captaining the sprightly looking STC team and buoyed by an inspirational team talk from Jamie- "It's going to get hot later so feel free to swing the bat" our openers Tim "Boycs" Bond and Adam "clubber" Leetham bounded to the crease looking confident and composed.

It is at this point I usually start talking about balls that stayed low and bad bounces off the mat but today was different. After having a good look at the bowling Adam settled in nicely and started to nudge the ball around purposefully before crashing the first boundary of the day off the second ball of the second over. With Tim holding up his end well we were looking in good nick.

With Charlie uttering the never before used phrase "are we really 12 for none?" it all came home how surreal this was. Two overs gone and nobody back in the hutch, it was a record and oh how they started tumbling after that. Adam was eventually out for 8 and came back in uttering something about "The opening bowler having a beautiful length" a comment nobody questioned any further! Tim was out for 12 after facing about 3500 balls - or so it felt - there was talk at one point of sending me in to run him out but we decided against it. Why bother when he is perfectly capable of doing it himself!

At the wicket we now had Bill "flashing blade" Ballenden and Vip "the V.I.P." Kumar. taking the bit firmly between their teeth they accelerated the run rate to 11 an over against a mixed bag of STC bowling. One guy was bowling from so far behind the wicket he was virtually in the pavilion with us while another ones action would have been deemed illegal in a chucking competition! You can however only deal with what is in front of you and deal they did. Flash hit a terrific 28 before succumbing to exhaustion while The VIP hit a stunning 40 not out with the sort of classy display deserving of a better set of team mates!

Jamie "hand eye" Heywood chipped in with his usual display of perfectly timed sweet spot shots and Tony "ow me hand" smith and debutant Alex "Baby faced assassin" Luke saw the 20 overs out.

An astonishing 121 for 5 from 20 overs!Records included not being bowled out, a new high score of 40 from the VIP,not losing a wicket in the first over and having more than one box to share!

With optimism in the air but also a realisation that it was a fairly flat track, we headed out to the field sweaty but eager. A faint whiff of a victory was circulating and we were in danger of becoming a credible team. Could we take the pressure? Would we crumble under the weight of expectation? Could I bowl an over without a wide?

The ball was handed to David "Dot-Ball" Mcbean to open and he snorted down the track to deliver the first of the day. A reasonable over ensued with STC falling behind the required run rate early. The second over was elegantly bowled by Richard "Slow Fingers" Downey who had warned the umpire before starting "You have to watch very carefully for the LBW decisions because I can turn the ball both ways". Another decent over, STC restricted to 11 off the first two, we were on our way.

With some further good stuff from Flashing blade and the VIP and some real eye candy leg spin from the Baby faced assassin flanked by some less than average stuff from myself Tony and Tim we managed to restrict STC to 101 and take a small margin in to our second innings.

I am afraid the old familiar story reared it's ugly head at the startof the second innings as Richard David and myself fell for 2,1 and 1 respectively. Things were starting to wobble. While Richard Downey didn't understand how you could be run out when you are in your crease, I didn't understand why I couldn't come up with one single excuse as to why I was out other than I am pretty shit!

Our ever reliable wicket keeper Charlie "the cat" Benson strolled to the crease with broad shoulders and a steely look in his eye to accompany the VIP and between them they gradually steered the game away from STC. The cat held his end up well for a credible 10 while the VIP blasted another rapid 30 before sportingly retiring.

Baby faced assassin added an elegant 8 and Hand eye an explosive 14 so we ended with 80 setting STC a target of 101 to win from 10 overs. Pick of the STC bowling was a fantastic 4 wicket over from The Splitter. Unfortunately for him, the old playground rule of 'can't be out on your first ball' meant his figures showed just the one! Laugh? Don't be silly, we felt very sorry for him!

So to the final innings. as STC ticked along at the required rate for the first 4 overs small panic was setting in. With the thought of a cider tent at the British High Commission fete sitting in the back of our minds the focus shifted slightly to upping the over rate rather than closing out the match. Then Jamie got his game face on and bought out Dot Ball, the VIP and Slow fingers to shore the match up. After Slow Fingers showed his winning appetite with an appeal for caught behind about an inch from the umpires face - his previous delivery was an inch outside off and was given a wide and well lets just say he wasn't too happy- it all came down to the final over.

Who would be trusted to take us home to a first victory? Who was the man for the big occasion? Who could take this amount of pressure on their broad shoulders? The skipper Hand eye, tossed the ball to me with this ringing endorsement.

"Here you Gareth, they need 37 to win surely you can't cock this up"!

I didn't. We won! Oh yes the BSD have won their first game and we confidently talked about the possibility of having a reasonable side all of a sudden. the problem is, I wont be able to get in it! Bring back the bad old days I say!

Shopping parade conspiracy

I think our local shop keepers have had enough of me. There seems to be some sort of conspiracy between them to keep me away. It started with balding children and ended with shrunken curtains, confused? You will be.

Let me start by telling you about our local shops. It is the sort of thing we had in the UK before Tesco's metro and Sainsbury's local destroyed it all. A parade of shops if you will. The sort of place we used to hang around after school kicking a football or trying to cop off with each other, till the fed up shop keepers threatened to tell your mum and dad and you scarpered.

We have a coffee shop;butchers;chemist;two,dry cleaners;cigarette/paan kiosk;grocery store;bank;estate agent and hardware stand.Everyone down there is very friendly and helpful, well they were until this week.

At first I couldn't work out why everyone was turning hostile but after a bit of detective work I have found that the responsibility lies squarely at the foot of The British School New Delhi. It is from there that Raffi has managed to infect himself with hair lice. Not an un-common problem one would assume. Certainly not something that would make me become a social pariah in my own neighbourhood. Unfortunately it has, and here is why.

I walked down to the chemist with Rafa and Silas to get some treatment for it and the conversation went like this:

"Hello how are you?"

"Very well, what can I do for you?"

"I am after a hair lice treatment for my children."

At this point, the girl behind the counter looked at me in utter disgust.

"Sorry sir we do not do this for children." Came her curt response.

"Are you sure?" I questioned.

"Absolutely sir, if you want a treatment for you, this is OK but for your children this is not right."

She then cast me a look that made me feel somewhere between a paedophile and a rapist and I left the shop.

A little confused I thought no more of it and went home. That afternoon the guy from the local dry cleaner came to the house with our freshly cleaned curtains. He very kindly offered to re hang them for me which he got on with until I looked and saw that they had shrunk by a good 5 inches.

I called his boss and told him he had better get up here straight away and explained what had happened. He arrived looking at me as if I was something on his shoe and I wondered if he was privy to the lice information and a little wary to enter. More to the point had he shrunk the curtains on purpose?

He looked at the curtains and told me they hadn't shrunk and that I had in fact lifted the curtain pole! I explained to him that he was lucky 'A' wasn't here and it was me he was dealing with and sent him on his way to get them stretched and on the pole by the time she got home, or his arse would be kicked all over Shanti Niketan!

After enduring 'A' screaming down the phone to the maid and I about what she was going to do if her $400 curtains were ruined I decided enough was enough and headed down to see Mr. Merry at our local store for a diet coke. I said

"Hi Mr. Merry" my normal greeting to him, to which he replied.

"My name is not Mr. Merry, that is the name of the store, my name is Ravi". He eyed the boys up with a shake of the head and look that said poor kids. I had no idea why Ravi had chosen this point after nearly a year to turn nasty and inform me of his correct name but my suspicion was still the lice.

Surely everyone is not turning nasty because my son has nits? This is India, most of them will happily pee up the wall in front of you, I they really that prissy about few nits? With the bit between my teeth and the realisation that everyone was looking at me with disgust I decided to drag the boys back into the chemist, determined to find a treatment for Rafa.

Once inside it was a scene reminiscent of the bar in American werewolf in London. All the staff came to a standstill and peered at the freaks before them. Summoning up some courage and suppressing my anger I asked again.

"Are you sure you have not treatment for hair lice for my children? It is no big deal and quite common in the UK for kids to suffer from them."

"Sorry sir them?"

"Yes them, hair lice"

"Lice?"

"Yes lice, that crawl in your hair"

With that, her frown changed to a laugh and look of relief.

"I am very sorry sir I thought you were looking for a treatment for hair loss for your son! I thought it was strange because he has very long hair and it was not nice to be treating your child for this"

With that there were laughs all round and people started relaying from shop to shop what had happened and laughter was ringing out every where.

It was then that the penny dropped. The chemist thought I was involved in some sort of sick child abuse whereby I try and make my boy's hair grow as fast and as thick as I can artificially and had told the whole parade thus making me public enemy number 1.

I left the chemist with the treatment seeing the funny side and passed Ravi on the way out who told me I could call him Mr. Merry if I choose. the dry cleaner told me the curtains would be sorted by Saturday and apologised for his mistake and the woman at the coffee shop asked if I wanted a pastry!

All was well with the world again and I was back to being, that-nice-tall-bloke-with-the-two-cute-kids and not serial-rapist-and-possible-murderer-on-the-run.

I got home and relayed the comedy of errors to 'A' who sat there looking rather sheepish. She then explained that she had just been down there herself and given the dry cleaner a massive bollocking about the curtains. The poor guy took her tirade while trying to argue his point before finally getting a word in and explaining she was at the wrong dry cleaners!

My status has no doubt once again plunged and I now no longer feel I can ever shop there again.

Thanks 'A' you are a star.