Anniversary

So it's a year ago today that I left Sri Lanka, and I think its time to close this blog. Sri Lanka was an incredible experience. As the summer rains on, my work becomes steadily less enjoyable and the memory of cold showers fades, I find I'm longing to return to my little house in Uva and my role at Meedumpitiya. If only I could take my husband, family, comfortable bed, hot water and car...but then the whole experience would be changed. I think it is best to enjoy the memories and let Sri Lanka carry on with out me. One thing I am sure of is that I'll go back some day and be bewitched, maddened and confused all over again.

Can't buy everything it's true

I’m still living in a building site, but slowly a house is emerging from under the dust and chaos. I spent the weekend staining floors, which is hard on the knees and my patience as well. Each layer of stain needs time to dry, as does each layer of varnish. Then there is working around furniture and animals to consider, not to mention the odd cock up creating further work. Time is a major constraint – anything requiring major upheaval has to be left to the weekend.

The other factor slowing us down is cash. DIY is so expensive, really I had no idea just how much a tin of varnish costs, never mind carpet for the stairs. Each paycheck means one expensive item – so the first weekend of the month sees Tom and I huddled over the laptop doing a budget.

This month we have ordered a bed. It’s a simple, plain low level bed, to go with our loft bedroom’s low ceiling. The really exciting part is that it is going to be rather large, 5’6” wide and 6’6” to be exact. I’m a poor sleeper. I like space and stillness in my bed. I can’t abide frills, fuss or fidgeting at night. I often don’t even use a pillow. The bed we’ve ordered is very simple. To my mind it is probably more the kind of bed one would expect in a man’s room, but it is perfect for me, and hopefully should mean a more comfortable night, even though I’ll share it with a fidgety, snoozy, feather pillow loving husband.

we twa hae paddled in the burn

So I've been in the land of mist, mountains and midges. The Highlands sound so romantic and look that way too. What is more enjoyable after a stiff climb on a mild summers afternoon, than standing gazing at unrivelled beauty of the mountains? It is a moment of triumph and quiet reflection...until you start to itch all over. Just one or two odd tingles, which grows quickly more intense. Looking down notice your body is strangly freckled with little black dots. Then as the itching gets worse you cease to look and instead start to scratch your scalp, arms, legs, back, front... The highland midge is a fly unlike no other. I have a few large mosquito bites which do itch now, but nothing compares to the frenzy brought on by midge attack. And there is no way to protect yourself - no cream on earth and no clothing will keep them out. The only thing to do is to return to the car and drive off at top speed...or pray the sun will come out and drive them away.

all through my coffee break time

I’m sitting drinking a cup of twig tea. Actually it's still to hot so I haven’t taken a sip, but the intent is there. By twig tea I mean a small bag of some dodgy plant that I am being told by the manufacturers is good for me. This time it's African honey bush and lavender, which smells like a gift shop in the student part of town – you know with crystals, cheap alloy jewellery, and cannabis leaf print clothing.

I think drinking this is a sort of penance. You see I am going out for a coffee later. No really I am going to leave the hospital in the middle of the working day for half an hour and get a coffee with a friend. The friend doesn’t even work for the NHS – he’s private sector so I can’t call it work. I’m already feeling guilty. I know I never get a lunch break (actually there’s space in my diary for lunch once a fortnight), and thus am entitled to take some time out, but it still feels wrong. Bizarrely were I planning to spent 30 mins reading up on the Sri Lankan blogosphere I’d have no guilt. It’s the whole breaking out of the building in the middle of the morning that seems so very wanton.

My aim is to be able to walk out of the building without feeling the need to explain myself to every colleague I meet (they won’t care what I’m doing; it’s purely my conscience that does). After all I run the communication strand of our program, so I ought, in theory, to be able to manage assertiveness. And I need something to wash the taste of twig tea from my mouth.

When Eddy said he didn't like his Teddy

On Saturday Edward arrived and suddenly our household has increased to five.

Last week it was my teenage brother who moved into the building site we call home, under a cloud of aftershave. He has since proved most un-adolescenty by tidying the house. What's more he's doing a lot of the DIY. I've been informed of the need to sand the paint down between coats, and lectured on the best way to cut in. That time spent as an apprentice decorator was clearly not wasted. What's even better is that he is doing this in lou of rent - so I don't have to pay him at all. I know it wont last for ever but I'm certainly enjoying it.

My latest household member is far less useful. I suppose he could double as the sleeve for a paint roller as he is quite fluffy. Edward is about one year old, and came to me via Barnsley. His short yet adventurous life has included escape from an attempted drowning and a brief encounter with a kindly fisherman. He is very small, incredibly agile and rather nervous. He reminds me rather of piglet from Winnie the Pooh (no not the simpering Disney version). Hari is very taken with him, but does wish he would bounce and play more. Edward is less sure about Hari but very fond of cake.

So now we are five!

I hang my head and cry

One of my friends from Uni died two years ago and that was sad. Then I discovered that her husband, another of my friends from Uni had been arrested for her murder which seemed so bizarre and shocking as to be laughable - except it wasn't funny. Two years on and there is a conviction for murder and I feel more sad still. These people were close friends at uni, but when my ex and I split some years later our friends were inevitably divyied up. These guys became my ex's friends, and I followed their progress through him.

The trial has been big news in her home town, with various journalists keeping blogs, and the predictable "flog em and hang em" comments from outraged members of the public. The press have been quick to paint my friend as a cold blooded killer who led a double life. There are various pictures of him looking emotionless, blank and grey, adding to the image of the evil murderer. His wife's smile beams out in colourful contrast.

I wish relationships were that simple. I wish that in all murder cases there was one person who was wholly good and one who was wholly bad. It would make life so much easier. No one ever deserves to be murdered, killing others is in my opinion always wrong. It is so hard to have to recognise that someone I know to be a nice and kindly human being got himself in such a terrible position that he killed another nice and kindly human being. The grey, evil sub-human murderer is a much less distressing image.

I've been thinking about why it's so much easier to vilify people who commit horrendous crimes, than to empathise with their situation. And I'm wondering if the idea that good people can do terrible things is so hard for society to swallow, because we all think of ourselves as basically decent people? If my basically decent friend can commit murder, does that mean I have the potential to commit murder? It's an uncomfortable thought. How much stress and pressure would I need to be under to kill someone I loved?

It's much easier to experience moral outrage, and tell myself that my friend was really a psychopath the whole time I knew him, that he had me fooled all along.