Halloween... Spiritualism over Materialism

Halloween is an extremely important and serious festival... kind of a shame about the commercial version it has developed into.
It's an antique Celtic pagan festival. The ancient Celts believed that on this night, the boundary between the worlds of the living and the dead disappeared. This made it possible to make contact with positive spirits from beyond and to benefit from their favours. Hence the scary costumes were made to keep the evil spirits distant.
The word Halloween is interpreted as 'The Night of All Saints.'

Halloween 'fun', began for me, by taking my children with friends and their kids from door to door in the neighbourhood and waiting outside while they did the rounds of knocking at people's doors for a handful of goodies; mostly chocolates which they felt obliged to finish eating the same evening with the result of a stomach ache before going to bed and a good excuse to miss school the next day.

That was some years ago when global warming had not quite made its effect and it was usually a foggy, cold winter's night with prepared costumes and many underlays.

It is only now that I feel different towards this celebration. It brings joy to many people to dress up and make an effort to meet up with friends, go out and have fun in the name of Halloween. And what a great idea. Any celebration that brings happiness and a gathering of friends together, is to be cherished.

Hala and I began the weekend celebrations with a party at home. It turned out to be an evening of ...  Yep... fun, laughter, dancing and getting better acquainted with new friends and the rekindling of the older ones.  Hala's recipe for the Russian salad was a success.

Let me get back to the infamous fencing lesson and my true feelings about it.
Despite the lack of sleep, I woke up at 8 am to attend the 9.30 class. All excited, I turned up early and got instruction from the two teachers; Julianna and Tomash (who I must add was extremely good-looking, with a naughty smile).
We wore the appropriate fencing clothes of the various tops to protect us against being targeted by the foil, which is a light and flexible one-handed weapon. We were then handed a bladed weapon, capped at the top with rubber protection.

Once placed across our opponent, we began the defence. The foot movement was similar to boxing which I had taken a go at two years before with a trainer and loved.  Only due to the swelling of my right wrist, I was advised by the good doctor to stop: "Maybe you had your fun with boxing and should give it a rest.  Try another, less vigorous sport!" Was my doctor's advice. What she really meant was 'Haldita, this is not a sport to start at your age.' And sure. I can take a hint; verbally or physically.
However, I found fencing rather harsh. The lady opposing me at the last rounds was aggressive and I could see how she got her anger out in the fight, with a sword. As much as I loved boxing, fencing was not quite for me. I really have no anger in me. But I was enrolled for another 5 lessons before Christmas as it was an invigorating exercise. Who knows? I may even change my mind and like fencing.

In the evening, I was meeting Arabel, a strong woman of Scottish heritage whom I met some seven years ago, organising an art exhibition for an artist.
"What made you do this?" Asked Arabel upon our first meeting.
"Well, the artist was so good-looking. He approached me when Aisha took me to see his first exhibition in London and with the knowledge that I've been living here for so long, he asked if I would be interested in arranging an evening of his works of art. And as I found his work different, I agreed." I said with a smile, wondering what Arabel's reaction would be.
Our friendship continued and I look up to my dear friend who has been through a whirlwind of changes in her life but always with a positive outlook and always with new ventures in mind to thrust upon.

We met early on the slightly damp October evening to attend a book signing.
As we stood in the bookshop amongst mostly eccentric-looking British men and women, I saw a friendly face, walk through the glass door. It was Casper, whom I had briefly met at Aisha's party a week before.
We connected this time in the smoking area when he introduced me to his aristocratic friend and the very attractive Greta.
"Where is the man himself?" Asked Casper's friend, regarding the man, the book had been written about.
"He has authorised the book to be written, I believe." Answered Casper.
"That's not what I heard." I intervened. "Don't think he's coming either."

I walked back into the bookshop to find my friend, Arabel who was busy mingling.
"Where did you disappear to darling?" She asked with her husky voice.
"Oh!  Just bumped into someone I met only last week at a party." I explained.
At this time, the author gave a short speech, after which, Arabel was keen to introduce me to her old friends and acquaintances.

Felicity, the Irish lady standing next to me, dressed in dark velvet, a coiffure and make-up which I could best describe as eccentric, began talking to me: "I'm a friend of the author's. Do you know what they say about the character of the book?" She went on: "He is a mean man with many wifelets."

Now... The words written on the back of the hardback clearly state 'this unauthorised biography'. Without for one second judging the author's views of the man, nor the man who the book has been written about, it made me wonder how do we judge? What makes us label the other as good... bad... ugly? Right... Or wrong?

When I expressed my feelings to Arabel, she said in a very cool manner: "Would you like to meet the man in question?"
"But of course, I would." Was my immediate reaction.

Now... If one day I get to meet this talked-about personality, it would be interesting to see how I would feel towards him. Sometimes, the most open-minded, free-thinkers and free-doers are made wrong simply because they get misunderstood through their frankness.

How to deal with the pain of hurt... laughter!

What a glorious day it turned out to be today... The sun was shining and the temperature had risen to a warm autumn day. London is beautiful at this time again.

I woke up a little later than usual and checked my mobile to see, I had a text from Ella asking where to meet for lunch.  

Ella and I met first time some seven years ago in Bangkok in a bar and our friendship has grown stronger over the years since she moved to London, soon after. She also happens to be an artist. We could not be further apart in looks and lifestyles and yet again, destiny has brought us together both so far from home, through having an open outlook towards life and people.  

The experiences in the past years of our lives have been vital in further getting us closer to our dreams and hopes. Being able to meet up when our hectic lives allowed and share the changes, has been; therapy and inspiration to both.

We met at a pub near the Thames and got talking while facing the rowers passing on the river through the windows.

"How was your pilates yesterday?" Ella enquired after the usual greetings.

"Great.  Think I've over-stretched my legs too much in the straps, on the machines!" I replied.

"Oh... Hope you are not doing that split you did waterskiing again?" My friend was obviously referring to my waterski incident last summer.  

Now let me tell...

It was last Aug, almost 14 months ago that I got up one morning in a very energetic mood and saw my girl getting ready to go waterskiing.  

"Darling," I said, "think I'll take up waterskiing again. It's been seven years since the last time.  Now, time to start again. Can you book me a course, please? I've always been a mono-skier, should be fine."

My darling girl smiled: "Sure Mum. Get ready and let's go. But hurry!"  

We got to the club, just outside of London and got changed into our bikinis, covered by a wetsuit.   Picked up our mono skies and went on the speed boat with the driver.

After an impressive run through the slalom course by my girl, I decided to go on two skies to begin.  It took about three rounds of trying to get out of the water before I managed to stand up on the two skies and let go of one with no problem, then continued doing the rounds on the mono and letting go of the rope to land impressively in the water at the end of the course.

'Wow, I thought to myself. Haldita girl, you can still do it!' And with an air of 'boy, that was good', I walked back to my girl, now on the jetty, only to find out that I was booked on another course after only half an hour's rest as part of the 'lesson'.

"But Darling, you know how exhausting this is. I didn't even use to do two courses one after the other when I was much younger!" I exclaimed.

"I know Mum. It wasn't up to me. You don't have to go you know? You did so well." She is always encouraging, my girl.

"Since I'm booked, why not! I'll go. No worries baby." I was determined.

On the second course however, I was still tired from the first round and had been shivering with half the wetsuit hanging from my waste... and it was a 'wet' one at that. But I was gonna do it!

My girl was sitting next to the driver, watching me being pulled from behind the boat.  And I struggled to get out of the water on the two skies.  I was a mono skier for so long that two skies were not an option before.  As I almost got out of the water, my strength gave in, the two skies started going in different directions apart before my eyes and the speed boat was going faster as I did the splits!

Yep... the blooming splits. I heard a crack in my right side groin and I fell in the water helplessly.

In tears, I waved for help to the boat which had turned around, coming my way.

"Are you alright mum?" My girl was concerned and rightly too.

"I can't move," I said in a faint voice. "Get help."

The driver came close with the boat and managed to pull me out of the water and on the jetty behind, lying me on my back, in absolute agony. I literally could not move.

The manager appeared from the pier on what seemed like a floating wooden block with a motor attached to it. The two strong men lifted me slightly and placed moved me, in order to take me ashore.

From there, they brought a stretcher and again moved me onto it. By now, I had six hunks and I mean hunks... carrying me to the grass area in front of the restaurant.

'Greaaaaaat' I thought to myself, 'this is the only time I wish I was ten fucking kilos lighter in weight!'

Lying there, looking up at those concerned yet sexy faces, I must have gone quiet because the manager who knew me from those years ago, said: "Haldita, I bet this feels like your bedroom."

"My bedroom?!" I questioned. "No darling. I certainly don't have you hunks in my bedroom!"

Even in pain... I managed to get those men smiling. How giving is that??

Once placed on the grass surface, I had a whole crowd gathered around me. Families with children who looked more in pain through the expression on their faces looking down at me, than I was expressing!

Shortly after, three ambulance men came to my rescue. I tell you, it was a scene from a series...  think it was called ER! Perhaps not quite... 

The ambulance men got out and rushed to my side with a gas mask. New to me! They placed it over my nose and face, then told me to breathe deeply.  And I did.

Soon I felt a tickling sensation inside and began to laugh and only God knows what I was saying.  However, I recall...

"Are you hurt?" Asked the first ambulance man holding the mask.

"Haha... Did you just say I'm hot?"  It sure sounded like I was flirting with the guy! Oh, dear!

"Think I'm being pulled here." Said the ambulance man under his breath, turning towards his mates.

As they moved me to make sure nothing is broken and I was giggling with the help of the mask like a schoolgirl, I asked: "Does this thing make you high?"

The ambulance men looked at each other, then looked at me awaiting their answer with wide eyes and answered: "Yes."

"Great. When can I take it home for my parties? Pleaaaase?" No stopping me now!

Pain? What pain? I was having a great time with my new buddies. All oblivious to the 'pain' or the few remaining audiences. The parents must have moved their children away! Don't blame them. 

"You're better off without the wetsuit. Anyone, to help you with that here?" Asked the second ambulance man.

"Yes. Yes. I'm here." My girl intervened. "That's my mum!" She smiled as a few heads turned to look, with a... 'You mean this woman has a grown-up daughter?!' surprise expression.

"Have you ever taken anyone to hospital in a bikini before?" I was curious.  

 "Can I ask a favour?" And I continued on: "Could you please take us to the Chelsea, Westminster hospital? It's closer to me."  

"No Madam. You are being taken to the 'Middlesex..." Well, some other hospital. The man answered. I can't quite recall the name! The ambulance man was patient. And I was... what sounded like... high!

The siren went off as I lay behind the ambulance, with my girl being questioned by the only ambulance man in the back, watching over me.

Hala happened to call at that time, concerned about our delay in returning home. 

My girl picked up the phone and said: "Well... something kind of bad has happened."

I was giggling still at the back, not letting go of the precious mask.

As the explanation of the story went on over my head, I said to my girl: "Pass me the phone.  Pass me the phone."

"Hey Sis,"  I said, "I waterskied great the first round, second one, I did the splits! Seems my hamstring's damaged. Anyhow, they've given me this gas mask which's great. Think I'm high as a kite!  I tried to persuade them to let me bring it home for our parties, but it's not working!  Hahaha..."

"So, by the sound of it Sis, you're not too bad," Hala laughed.

The results of the x-ray were 'an almost torn hamstring' and consultation of rest for two to three months, by the good doctor.  We were called a cab to take us home, with a pair of crutches under my arms.

This was a Tuesday. By Saturday afternoon, I had moved on the sofa and friends began to call and drop by to see us. Troy came with two puppies. Charlotte and Nicolas brought their gorgeous baby boy. Robby arrived with a bottle of rose. And a handful more. The music was playing, the sun was shining outside, and the room was filled with an ambience of a happy mood, as we recalled the incident and laughed.  

What is wonderful about all this is that the pain is long gone and forgotten but the joy of the gathering that Saturday afternoon shall always make me smile and the incident was actually funny!

You would think my stories end... But on the following day, my young friend Salar called to say: "Haldita, my friend, a Brazilian DJ is playing at the beach on the Thames this afternoon.  Why don't you join us?"

I didn't have the heart to say no, so I answered: "Well, I'm on crutches but feeling better.  Sure, we'll see you there."

With Hala in the back of Troy's sports car with Maggie. Me, in the passenger seat. Troy drove and parked by the London Wheel, close to the river.

I limped slowly; without the crutches, as we approached the river, close to the Millenium Bridge.  We met up with Salar and his friends while waiting for the tide to go down so we could descend on the land, called 'the beach' by the river.

We then danced... Well, I certainly did and mingled with the young crowd for a couple of hours before heading home.

Again, I have a good recollection of the fun we had... As for the pain, as bad as it was then, it's history.

The doctor said it would take 2/3 months to be up and running... Who can say? I did it in 2/3 weeks, or less.

Off to bed. Finalllllly!

Early morning class... Guess what?... FENCING! Oh yeah.

Love and Friendship make the world go round...

Sunday afternoon at 6 pm.  I was about to leave my apartment in a rush, only to be faced with questioning from Angel and Hala.
"Where are you going?  We've guests for dinner."Were my mum Angel's words?
"Oh!  I'm picking up a friend at the station and shall bring him home to dinner." I said hastily.
"Who?"  Asked Hala.
"Mmmm... Haven't met him before personally but he sounds cool." I said.
"What... You are bringing a stranger home to dinner?" Mamma asked.
Don't know what was new in that? I'm only a chip off the old block, we (as in my family) love new, interesting people.
"No worries, I'll explain later," I said as I shut the door behind me.

I waited in the car at the entrance of the station, only to notice Rashid's face appear from the side mirror approaching my car. I had texted him the colour and model earlier.

He got in and said: "Hello Haldita. Nice to meet you."
"Hi, Rashid. Funny meeting like this!" I said with a smile. "Shall we go to a bar nearby for a drink first?"
My new friend agreed and we drove and chatted a little before parking almost right outside the bar.
"Is it this easy to find parking in London?" Rashid seemed surprised. Rightly too.
"Actually, I've a 'Parking Angel. He or she comes to my rescue every time. You should try calling for yours when needed." I meant every word I said.
"Oh! A dear school friend lives close by, let me see if she'll join us." I said as I called Guilda.

After a short call, Guilda agreed to join us.  Must say it was all so spontaneous, the best way.
We settled on the stools at the bar and ordered a bottle of Rioja by mutual agreement. Before long, Guilda's goldilocks hair and her pair of Bambi-like, blue eyes met mine through the standing crowd.
I almost jumped off the stool to greet her.
"This is Rashid, my new friend," I made the necessary introductions as we sat facing the new barman.

"New friend? Hmmm... So, how do you two know each other?" Curiosity got the better of Guilda as she asked turning her head from me to Rashid.
"We actually just met, I picked him up outside the station," I said beginning to laugh. "We met through Facebook. Come to think of it... How DID we meet?" Turning towards Rashid.
"I know very well how we met, let me explain." Rashid seemed bemused and ready to play the twenty questions game. "Haldita joined my site."
"And what do you do Rashid?" Guilda had to find out.
"I'm a painter." Rashid contributed.
"A painter?" Guilda asked.
"Yes, I take a brush and paint rooms!" Rashid was getting warm with his answers.
I had to intervene: "No. No. He is a painter as in an artist."
"Let me continue..." Rashid went on: "Haldita joined my site and sent me a note saying she enjoyed my paintings, then asked if I had an exhibition in London. I don't but came here to visit family and we thought it a good idea to meet."
"Ah!  So you are each other's date tonight." Guilda put two and two together and made fifty!!  Haha 
"No date. We are friends darling." I had to make the adjustment.
"Actually we are not even friends on Facebook!" Rashid commented.
"We're not?!?" I said surprised. "You wanna say I picked you up, brought you here, introduced my friend AND took you to dinner and we are not even friends?"
We all laughed.
"Go on... Take him back and drop him off at the station where you picked him up immediately!  How could you say you're not friends after all Haldita did for you?" Guilda was on the roll.

We parted with Guilda after an hour of testing one another's sense of humour and finding yet another new name to add as friends on the infamous Facebook page.
Finally arrived home around 8 pm for dinner.
Angel who seemed anxious said: "Where were you? I was getting worried. You said you are picking up your new friend to come home then disappeared."
"Sorry mum, you know I'm mad, here's Rashid, our new friend," I said as he shook hands with my family and the two guests; Brad, mum's good, old friend and Massimo; whom Hala and I met some years ago at Fabric by accident on his one and only visit there, he has become a friend of the family since. Massimo is always a pleasure to have around; not only is he very fit, his sense of humour is next to none.

After going through the explanation of our cyber connection, extended it to the virtual meeting.  There were other questions arising during the delicious sit-down dinner Angel had prepared.

"So... What kind of painting do you do?" Massimo asked Rashid.
"All kinds.  But I've destroyed most of my work!" Rashid's answer brought an expression of surprise to Massimo's face.
"Has anyone seen them?" Massimo had to ask.
"I'm an artist and that's how I react. An artist is never happy enough with his work." Rashid had a point.
Massimo turned to me and asked: "How's the blog?"
"Last time I checked, there was an incredible 800 hits marked worldwide on the stats!" I exclaimed with excitement.
"What?" Rashid seemed almost shocked. "You mean 8 hits? I barely read one post, thinking it rude to intrude on your privacy! As you called it."
"No, 8 followers and over 800 hits globally in two months!" I said with bright, wide eyes.
"But when you sent me the link," Rashid went on, "You wrote this is quite private!"
"Ha ha... Well, let's just say I've a few friends around the world!" I was never good at keeping secrets of my own.

With an eclectic group who enjoy good times and good company, the evening could only turn into laughter and a memorable event. And... I now have an addition to my 'Facebook' friends!

Wherefore art thou... Shakespeare? Adventures with Reza.

There has been a very special place in my heart for our very dear Shakespeare. Above are photos I took in Stratford-upon-Avon.

My first encounter with this great soul was at boarding school. Here we go... This is gonna be a long one as we are digging into my past and some history now.

It was the summer term at the end of my first year at boarding school. Our class had to perform 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' on the outdoor stage amongst the greenery of the countryside in Southern England. I believe Mrs Parker, our headmistress who was also our drama teacher, liked me. She was about average height or did her 'ramrod straight' posture gave her extra length? She walked with clenched fists held tight to her sides, moving like an army major. Her footsteps on the old stones, which lay in the main hall and corridors of the Abbey, could be heard from afar.  She had a vintage hairstyle of short curls with a powdered white face from a classic play. She wore a pleated below-the-knee checked skirt with a white shirt, buttoned to the top and covered by a cardigan -immaculately hung. She always talked with an air of great authority.

Mrs Parker would address me with a slightly bent neck, looking down at me with a wry sideways grin (as I would usually stand to her left side): 
"Haldita, my dear... "My English was hardly good enough to understand what anyone was saying to me for the first few months and boy... did my classmates take advantage of it!  But as I've said before, I learnt how to deal with such challenges. Mrs Parker had decided that my acting was worth giving a try as a backup and I was given the role of... Well, it was kind of a major role - sort of; I had to practice the lines for the Duke of Athens, Theseus. Which sounded like 'Greek to me'!  
Another one of Shakespeare's great quotes I was to learn later on. I prayed and prayed for the lead role actor not to get sick as I was terrified of having to act on stage with words that were mostly alien to me. My prayers were answered and I only had to watch the play being performed.

Can't continue before telling you my funny boarding school story:

In the second year of boarding, my grasp of the English language was stronger and gave me a little more confidence to interact with my classmates. In a science lesson Mr Smith, our teacher who was tall and slim, with wavy ginger hair and an eye for the girls' hemlines, was talking about the 'Heavenly Bodies' in science. I was in my usual daydream state of being when those words rang in my ears. It was as if I'd just woken up. So, up went my right hand, with a surprisingly confident attitude.

Mr Smith who seemed delighted, came towards me and said: "Well now... Haldita has a question. Yes, my dear?"
By now, eleven pairs of eyes had turned towards me in astonishment - awaiting my question.
So I asked away: "Mr Smith... "I had no idea what words were going to pop out next.  
"Is my body heavenly?"
Before my sentence ended, the whole class had burst into laughter and Mr Smith's an absolutely amusing expression of 'je ne sais quoi' made me laugh too. The story went around the whole school. Haldita spoke! Hallelujah.

I must admit, Shakespeare didn't exactly grab me at such a young age. He sounded rather complicated and it is only now that I truly appreciate his words of wisdom; his understanding of the human mind and behaviour; his tragedies as well his comedies.

The next person who patiently, tried (so hard) to focus my attention on this great man's passion for words, which is unique to its time, was Reza. We were both teenagers and had bonded immediately after we met in an economics class taken by one of my favourite teachers of all time: Mrs Stewart. This was a tutorial college I attended in London after boarding school. Oh! And I did have a go at politics A level. Now... That's another story!

I can say Reza was, and IS, my soulmate.

Mrs Stewart's class was exceptional. The five or six of us would often go back to her comfortable, Chelsea home where she would serve soft drinks and biscuits during lessons. We met her two delightful children; Rory about 6 and Fiona only 2 years old and would play with them after class. Mrs Stewart's lessons opened our minds to the human psyche.
One topic I can still remember to this day was... "Do you think that babies are born with certain characteristics or do they develop over time through parenting and life's experiences?" Being a teenager at the time, I was more inclined to believe that character was developed within us as a result of our life choices and the effect of others around us. And... I was determined to be right on that! Ayayaya... Youth!

Looking back at the subject many times during my growth, I can safely say now that genes have a great deal to do with the way we think and behave. We are born as the unique biological expression of our ancestral influences and patterns. These can be enhanced or weakened, throughout our lives, by the know-how to moderate our acquired behaviour patterns which we pick up along the way. Am I making any sense here? Are you still with me or did I lose you to the Woolwich? (!) If you have not lived in the UK, you are not expected to understand this last joke. Sorry, couldn't resist.

Now... Back to one of my dear soulmates; Reza Abdo.

He used to take me to dingy Soho cafes, near Leicester Square (London's theatreland); which in those days, were nowhere near as trendy as they are today. In those days, we were served a soft drink and a soggy cheese sandwich on white bread. It was even worse than boarding school food (as if that were possible!) with an all-pervasive stale smell. After a reading session in the corner of a dark cafe for a couple of hours, Reza would take me to Shakespeare plays, mostly. And, as a present, he handed me a philosophy book to read whilst he read and wrote his own rich poetry. I was always mesmerised by his knowledge of so many lines, learnt by heart, from Shakespeare's plays. He was a genius and I admired every word that came out of his lush lips. He recited his poems with all the necessary expressions and gestures, then had to express the meaning of each verse as they were too rich in vocabulary and meaning for me to understand. We must have seen countless Shakespeare plays of various productions at different theatres.

I felt as though Reza's father was hopeful that his son's interest in me was more than just friendship. I loved him dearly, like a brother, and we had a connection that was next to none. That is all that mattered to us.

The last time I saw Reza was in Los Angeles. He had moved there to finish his theatre studies.
During my second year at university in London, in my early twenties, I left college one week early before the Easter holidays to travel and visit my childhood friend Grace who was studying in La Jolla, CA.
That was one of the best times of my life. Grace went to college during the daytime and we'd go out at night, which was how I got to meet some of her close friends. We would go to sit on beaches to catch the beginning of the spring sun. While all the locals were dressed in boots, trousers and jumpers (or sweaters as Americans call them)... I would be lying on a towel, in a bikini, covered in Lancaster dark tanning oil! Grace's friends thought I had been to Hawaii to get so dark! Guess, I'm lucky that way.

During that very memorable stay, Reza kept calling me from LA and insisted that I go and visit him for three days.
It had to be done! I boarded a small plane that quivered with every hint of turbulence throughout what felt like a flight that will never end. I was going to see Reza for the first time in three years and he had reassured me I should wait at the airport for him to pick me up. The flight had shaken me somewhat and it was now dark outside. I disembarked and waited eagerly for his friendly face. Instead, I got the big bulky cab drivers approaching me with offers of a ride to town. I was beginning to feel anxious, when I saw a figure in the distance, dressed in tight, black jeans and a very trendy, high-collared, black leather jacket. It was approaching me... and then began running my way.
"Haldita... Haldita... !" It was my darling friend, Reza, looking more beautiful than ever. Those big, dark brown eyes were shining, highlighted with light mascara and possibly even some eyeliner. He embraced me so hard that I could barely breathe and yet, wished that moment would never end.

"Here's my boyfriend, Don," Reza said as he introduced the sweetest face standing behind him, ready to greet me with as much eagerness.
"Haldita," Went on Reza, "there's one thing you need to know: I share my flat with Tom and he and I also have to share the same bed. Now, either you can share the bed with him and I can sleep on the sofa... Or you can take the sofa," were my dear friend's first remarks. I was so delighted to see him and meet his lovely boyfriend that sleeping on the sofa was of no concern.

Please bear in mind that all those years ago being gay must have been challenging. You'd hardly ever hear the word except for when it was used to mean happy! But the thought didn't bother me in the least. In fact, Don was one of the most adorable people I have ever met. He would come to us every night, after working in a supermarket, with a large brown paper bag full of the most exotic fruit for me! We would sit together roar with laughter, getting stoned whilst I shared funny stories. 

I shall cherish those moments till the day I die.

On the last day of my stay with Reza, he was waiting anxiously for some producer to pick him up by car. We watched the car arrive from behind the net curtains and he told me to wish him good luck on some theatre production he was working on. He gave me a big hug and left. I watched him get in the car with tears in my eyes not knowing that this would be the last time we met.

Grace and her friend Gloria arrived by car to pick me up shortly afterwards. We then drove off to check into an LA hotel for another evening of fun and laughter.

Over the years I heard that Reza Abdo had worked on several productions with the New York and LA Theater Ensemble and had taken his play to be performed in a Paris theatre. The news of his death, some years later, came via a friend who had seen the article on the back page of the Herald Tribune. He died of Aids at the age of 32. Indeed a very bright man. His work often confronted such issues as race, class and Aids. He comes to me every time I am dancing and dances with me and smiles at me. Still sending me his love. "You shall always be in my heart, dear Reza, until my time comes to join you. God Bless You."

Coming back to now... It is quite clear as to why I had to drive... so fast (I may add)... to Stratford-upon-Avon on Tuesday in such a hurry: My friend was calling...

Wednesday morning Jamie, my new buddy joined me for a visit to the museums of Shakespeare who lived and now rests in Stratford. We went to his home where we were informed more than 25,000,000 visitors have been, so far.

I learnt that William Shakespeare was born in Stratford-upon-Avon at a time when plague had struck the town, in 1564. His father, John, was a glove maker. When Anne Hathaway became pregnant by William, he married her at the age of 18. They had a daughter Susanna, followed by twins: Hamnet and Judith. Hamnet died at the age of 11.

Yesterday, on an unusually sunny, autumn day, we strolled through the partially cobbled stone streets to get to Dr John Hall's residence. He had married Susana Shakespeare, his first daughter. Jamie and I stopped for lunch at a well-known pub called the 'Dirty Duck'. We then continued to The Holy Trinity Church, beside the river Avon, to visit this great writer's resting place inside.

As it was getting late, and I had to drive back to London, we said our farewells. And I brought back a new friendly soul with me, my new mate... William Shakespeare.
O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?

The last thing I want to share with you here is the words written on a leaflet I brought from the Holy Trinity Church. They read:

'Loving God, we pray for everyone
who comes into this church today;
That all who seek you here may find you,
And all who find you may serve you day by day.'
Amen

Party... Party on... What again?! Haha

Fabulous... I now have my close family closer to me!
On the Thursday evening, having rested and spent the afternoon with the new arrivals, my mum Angel and sister Hala. Soltan and Tuba joined us with my daughter and son to go to a treat of raclette at Charlotte and her adorable husband's apartment.

It was an evening of chatter, laughter and amazing food. We were all bloated from the cheese and the special tarte tatin Charlotte had made for desert. Great company and a wonderful meal is bound to be a success.

Friday was spent cooking with the help of my great housekeeper, friend, companion as we prepared the special souffle which is my grandma's recipe for our dinner party of 24.
The guests began arriving at 20:30. So many great friends, Angel's close friend, the poet arrived with her close friend who has become our family friend too, who did sing beautifully. My kids were here with their friends. Then my friends who have also become friends of the family arrived. There was a great mix of ages and nationalities. Everyone was super cool and blended well together. I believe everyone has been mentioned at some point in the previous pages.

After dinner, Angel played the piano for us which was delightful and we danced to the cool tunes Soltan played on the CD player. A happy atmosphere of pure joy. We had a laugh at Essy's funky dancing of what was supposed to be some sort of break dance. Everyone was chatting and we even had a complaint from the neighbours to keep the noise down! Well, it was past 1.30 am. They had a reason and we were having too much fun to notice the time.

Saturday was resting at home in front of a movie.
In the evening, which was supposed to be a long one, Troy and a couple of friends arrived home to us for a drink before our cab ride to Fabric. Our favourite place to spend the night dancing and meeting up with other friends. The eleventh anniversary and it seems we have been to most in the past 6 years.
Most of the good friends we had met at the club showed up at some stage. We danced for 12 hours, chatted and enjoyed another evening and morning spent with good company, and letting go.
The saying 'What happens in Vegas... Stays in Vegas could apply to Fabric too!
There is a friendly atmosphere where people talk to each other and I must say that some close friendships have began for me at this underground club. One would have never thought.

I met a cool and friendly face amongst the crowd in the VIP,  his name was Jamie. He was there with a close friend. They joined us at the table and Jamie was so attentive and caring, which was refreshing and a good dancer!  We finally left the club at 2 pm on the Sunday, exhausted from all the dancing to head straight for bed.

Is it that difficult to make life fun? Looking through a different view, happiness is a state of mind.  Practice 5 minutes a day to think happy thoughts and it will begin to come to you naturally.
You don't deserve what you put yourself through. Every time a negative, unhappy thought comes to your mind, take action and replace it with something that makes you smile instead.
Joy is priceless. It is a deep feeling of love and being grateful about the good things in your life.  No amount of money could make you happier than when you love someone, be it family, friends or a lover.

Could we feel love for a period? Like for a night? For a week? For a year?
Of course we can. Our love does not have to last forever, no boundaries. People come and go in our lives. Let's not put limits on love and simply desire them for the time we are together.

From arts to fencing!

It has been so much joy having my brother Soltan and his fiancee, Tuba over.

Saturday morning was a ride in my local mini-cab to Holborn; the city area. The address was a pub. Upon arrival, on time I may add, the mini-cab driver looked back at me when I was paying and said: "You're going to the pub at this time of morning? You must be thirsty lady!"
"Oh yes. I'm attending the AA there actually! A hopeless alcoholic!" I said in a dry tone.
The mini-cab driver seemed so surprised at my remark that he looked at me in surprise, without uttering another word.
I laughed and continued: "No. Actually, I'm taking a writing course above the pub."
"AAaahh." He seemed relieved at my answer.

It was my fourth writing day course in the last year and I felt so much more confident than before.
The last time I was anxious but this time, I was excited.
To sadly admit to my shopaholic addiction, during the last 15 minutes of lunch break, I went outside for some air, saw some coffee shops in the road adjacent to the corner pub and got pulled automatically that way. I passed by a jewellery shop and got drawn to the red earrings in that window too.
'Shall I go in... I know that means trouble. I should simply continue on walking' were the thoughts passing my mind and... oops! Before I knew it, I had entered the consumer mode.
"Hello, can I try those red earrings in the window?" I went on to ask the lady behind the desk in the trendy boutique.
Maggie, a middle-aged elegant lady, the owner of this tucked away shop and I got chatting while I tried on other pieces of jewellery. Do I ever stop chatting people up? It sure doesn't look like it.
"How bad am I? In the middle of a writing course and I end up shopping during the short break!"  I said as I looked at Maggie's bemused face.
The earrings had to be purchased, I had been looking for a red pair for ages! I fooled myself once more.
During the rest of the afternoon in the 'classroom', I came up with, what I thought would be a great story for a movie. Coming to a cinema near you. No no... Just kidding. The subject I picked was a young girl in Kabul, trying to flee her family and hometown as the Taliban were looking for her.

Saturday evening's garden party, due to the usually mistaken weather forecast, had changed completely to the opposite of what was hoped for; as in sunny and warm was now cloudy and cold! Hence it turned into a warm indoor gathering of close friends and most of my family.

It gave way to another early night in and a rendezvous at midday, on Sunday with Risha and Kristel to visit the Chelsea Art London fair.
The sun was forcing its way out of the clouds and the temperature was rising through the morning. British weather is and has always been a major topic of conversation due to obvious reasons.
We met at the entrance of the white tent and immediately set to see the works of art on exhibition.

There was a stack of cups and saucers neatly placed on top of each other, from the ground to a height taller than me which moved in a slight wave motion with the steps of passers-by. It was held up by a thin metal pole in the middle, not visual.
"It's like a human spirit," said the lady at the stand, "it can be broken... but then mended."She continued: "They are pieced together with care, precision, delicacy and patience but never exist quite as before. The cracks remain and become an integral part of them."

How meaningful is that?
Through forgiveness, we can put matters aside and allow positive thoughts to conquer negativity.
I always heard that a shattered heart, a broken one is not easy to mend. But simply said it can be broken but it can also be mended; a refreshing outlook. They are pieced together delicately and of course, with each experience, there will be change and shall not be quite as before but that's just fine. It is a good thing to learn and hopefully let go of the grudges and keep the memory in a chip at the side of the mind, as a bookmark. So the cracks remain and the learning becomes part of an 'experience' and 'learning'. Wisdom.

Another piece that diverted my attention was bright and colourful; the 'Graffiti Lips', a hand-painted cut-out steel of a large pair of lips by Gerstein.
There were many paintings which diverted our attention.
"Isn't it amazing how the pictures talk to you and attract you towards them?" Were Kristel's observations.
"It's as the movement of the brush calls you, it draws you into the picture like a magnetic field." I agreed.
"Did you know that apparently, my name means the hair, the brushstroke," Risha informed us.
"How appropriate," I said to my painter friend. "You are so talented, darling."

Our three pairs of eyes seemed directed towards the various paintings of a cute (lady's) buttocks which the artist Boyarde began to explain, the idea started on a holiday with a girlfriend on a beach, where she had asked her friend whether she could experiment with taking a photo of her bum while sunbathing on the beach, with a tiny bikini on.

She was quoted to say: "I love empowering the female body, embracing sexuality as well as sexiness, caressing the male gaze whilst perhaps controlling it. This stems from my own insecurities and desires and enables me to live through my images of beautiful powerful women."
She sure didn't seem to have insecurities about me while she explained her work.
My favourite was what I would call 'The Tiger bum".

We left the fair for a walk in the private gardens close to Risha's home and sat on a bench, allowing the blaze of that warm autumn sun to mellow our moods.
Risha's friend who had joined us on the bench suddenly noticed: "Here comes Juliana, the fencing teacher."
My eyes shone with a radar alert at hearing the words 'fencing teacher'. It was another passion I had since childhood, watching the Erol Flynn black and white movies of swordsmanship.
"Hellooooo,"I said looking straight at Juliana approaching us. "I just heard you are a fencing teacher.  I've always wanted to have a go. From a very young age.  Can we come to your classes?"
Juliana, a sweet and friendly girl of about thirty was too kind, she said as she stood close to our bench: "That's what I like to hear. Would you like to begin this week?"
"This week is impossible but how about next week?" I offered.
"Fine.  I shall send you an email confirming the date and you can pass it on to Risha and Kristel,"  Juliana was enthusiastic.
"The Three (Charlie's) Angels turned musketeers," I added.

Time for bed... Dodo.
My mamma and sis Hala is arriving tomorrow. Brilliant.

My last thoughts are... Curves are definitely in and I shall make the most of that!

Be impeccable with your words

Say what you mean... And mean what you say.
I did promise to come back to my story... So here I am.

It was an exciting evening, before the weekend, spent at a charity event in a gallery. The cause was two bright, young men have travelled to Brazil, and began a charity based on teaching young, unprivileged children the use of 'safe sex' through music and fun. This has now grown into Africa. Also to help the women with artistic skills to earn a living. Most inspiring. Through Lola's invitation, we attended the event in a fun group.

It was a deja-vu in some ways as we had attended a birthday party together the week before.  Where we heard a heart-warming and uplifting live act. The singer's smile alone was touching, but that plus his voice and the passion with which he sang made my skin stand in goosebumps.  The crowd of guests gathered close, cheering and dancing.

As the performance came to an end and the guests began to either leave or continue dancing to the tunes of the chosen DJ for the night, I was standing outside, in the enclosed smoking area chatting to Janet whom I met during my last trip. We were catching up on Janet's trips for work, involving another great cause and generally swapping naughty stories and giggling when I turned my head to notice the singer sitting outside at a table. Without looking any further, I excused myself from Janet and walked towards the inspiring singer with open arms, gave him a hug and two kisses on each cheek and said helplessly: "You were amazing. Thank you. You really touched everyone's heart with your singing."
The very popular man gracefully thanked me, while I heard Shada's voice from the next seat.
"Haldita," she said with a straightening tone. "And here's his wife."As she went on to introduce the absolutely stunning woman sitting next to her. This lady had a tan complexion, long, dark, curly hair and a warm smile.
I then went on to kiss her cheekbones as she greeted me with a warm hug.
"You are gorgeous," I couldn't help but tell her what I thought.
She kindly invited me to visit her in her home town which is definitely high on my list of places to 'still see'. A lovely thought... Then again... Who knows?! Life is full of surprises.
Another funny scene I recall from that evening, was Janet and I joined by Aliya; a flirtatious, absolutely Betty Boop character who you cannot but love and her dark, statuesque friend Isa from a band went to the alleyway behind the restaurant to smoke, we were joined by the fit Italian Roberto. None of us seemed to know him but he was very friendly and followed us.

After the introductions of names, Aliya gave Roberto a smile, looking up with blinking eyes and said in a sexy voice: "Roberto, give me a kiss on my lips, just a friendly kiss, come on."
We then watched her round up her full lips together and get closer to the 'poor' boy. He was smiling, slightly shy or perhaps nervous and was not quite convinced this was the correct thing to do.
"Maybe the boy has a girlfriend Aliya?" I tried to get Roberto off the hook.
"No, com' on Roberto, just one friendly kiss, I'm not asking you to snog me!" Aliya was persistent.
"Look, Aliya's gonna give me a kiss on the lips, we're not into women, it's just like a kiss on the cheek." Isa stepped in to help Roberto make up his mind.
And Aliya and Isa kissed; very innocent. Roberto... still not convinced.
"Why don't you kiss all the girls on the lips, then kiss me." Aliya was determined to get that kiss!
We were roaring with laughter when Roberto happily came to each one of us and kissed us on the lips. Then... He still hesitated when it got to Aliya's turn but too late now, he kissed her quickly and stepped back!
When I was a teenager, it was women getting shy and embarrassed by a man's open suggestions! Great to see the world is changing.

Now... To get back to last week's charity event.
Shada was the first person I noticed as I entered. This lady has never ceased to amuse me...  She is bubbly, and fun and talks with a certain 'flirty', 'French' attitude and a husky voice. Her collection of necklaces is always a topic of conversation.
The young Sherif was there to also greet me with his caring girlfriend Salomeh. He had on numerous occasions listened to my mad stories and laughed, tapping his two index and little finger in the air saying: "Brilliant, Haldita. Luv it."
And that evening I got to meet Salomeh and we got on wonderfully, sharing stories.
Finally, Lola and Juan arrived and we went on to sit down for dinner and talk. A touching slideshow of photos of the work achieved through the charity was projected to the wall with high ceilings, all in white.

We have left cards at the table next to our plates with our names to bid on various choices. As I looked up to see what was on offer, lot 26 came up... 'a three-day movie-making course'!
Totally gobsmacked, as it was a subject I had looked into many times on the internet but the courses were difficult to get to or so expensive, that I had closed the site off and gone my way.
Now, could it be this was meant to be? For me to experience this passion in life? Well, no use wasting time wondering. I picked up the card with my name, pushed it through the card machine (as the ones we pay with buttons) on the table and pressed lot 26 and started bidding! Just like that. That 'satisfaction' smile appeared again on my face.

Dinner was served, and talks were given. Our table being one of the jolliest, I kept looking up at the screen to check on my lot.  Someone was bidding against me but it was not at high stakes.  Still affordable. This went on through the evening as we went outside and met new people, met the wonderful head of security; the thoughtful Ash, who kindly showed me the way to the ladies without a queue. Is there a way to solve this ladies' queueing in the toilets? Why is it men don't queue!

Towards the end of the evening, I saw the price go up for the fourth time and not being one to give up, left my last bid while I watched the screen go off.  It was the end of the bidding. I GOT IT. Yoopy! The thought of 'Haldita, making movies', well... kind of... Really appealed to me. By now you know what I always say... And Why Not!

Journeys through moments in time... Château de Versailles

Now... Where do I begin?

The KCWC (Women's Club) meeting last Thursday morning was held at the Royal Geographical Society; a talk in a conference room filled with a majority of 95% women, all Londoners, from different parts of the world. Sue had invited me to join her for an informative talk on the subject of Iran; a country in turmoil since the revolution in 1979, taken over from the Shah by the clergy.

Persia, being one of the oldest cultures in history has gone through major changes.

The name had changed to Iran during an intense modernisation or should I say Westernisation at the Shah's father's time, who was an ambitious soldier and through a coup d'etat, had declared himself king.

He did bring the country forward, and built roads, dams, and tunnels. He made laws for women to have to leave their 'chador' at home and take up jobs to support themselves and their families. The women's role was no longer to be in the kitchen. Things were moving too fast.

Persians were originally Zoroastrians; the religion simply stated: "Good thoughts. Good words and Good deeds are necessary to ensure happiness." In other words... See no evil. Hear no evil. Speak no evil. They built fire temples as their place of worship.  

How beautiful is that?

In the 7th century, some 1400 years ago... however... the Persian Sassanid Empire was overthrown by the Arabs and the state was Islamicized. During the peak of Darius the Great's Empire, Persia stretched from North Africa and Egypt to northern India and parts of Greece!  

What captured my imagination was the picture of the Shah crowning Empress Farah at their coronation ceremony in 1967 which took me back to the pages of my school days' French history books; with the glamour of The Louis Kings; the magnificent clothes they wore; the grandeur of their palaces and the beautifully carved furniture in a shimmering gold finish on the woodwork and elaborate materials of fabric flowing through the heavy curtains. Colours of richness and warmth. A flamboyant taste in decor and costume.

Chateaux de Versailles with its manicured gardens and fountains, which I finally visited two years ago in May with good buddies Dylan and Beata.  

I am now going to further confuse you with the story from that trip! Haha...

If contemporary art means 'anything goes'... Then I can call this 'contemporary writing'.

I was going to visit my Girl (daughter) who was living in Paris at the time. Elliot (from NYC) had called to say: "Darling, I'll be visiting a good friend in Paris in May, why don't you come and join me?"

"Brilliant Darling. I'll be there." I somehow always respond this way to Elliot's ideas of our global travels.

At one of the regular Thursday dinner parties my good friend Dylan held at his place, I suggested to him: "Dylan, it's your birthday next week, I'm meeting Elliot in Paris. Why don't you join us with Beata?"

He listened, and after a pleasant journey on the Eurostar, we arrived in the city of Paris, Gare du Nord. My job was to dig out the dash of smoke I had hidden away in a most unimaginable public spot in Paris! It was still there. Clever me. Or I should say lucky me.

On the first night, we got together with Elliot, Dylan, Beata, my Girl and Elliot's God-daughter to go to dinner at a new, buzzing restaurant in St Germain.  

A 'little' bit of shopping (of course). Long lunches with discussions and laughter over French wine, which I am not about to start naming as it's partly a snobbery in wine names-dropping to impress. For now, I just carry on pretending I don't remember names! Ha-ha. Though I do confess to being a snob at times! Briefly.

On a Saturday morning, the group was scattered around the city with chores of their own except for Dylan and Beata who met me for breakfast... Aaaahh... That French croissant dipped in the cafe au lait. Haldita... Move on...

Anyhow, it was a mutual decision to take the train and go to Versailles. Weather predictions were... No good but we decided... Let's do it anyway.

We went on a short (as in roughly 25 minutes) journey on the metro/RER and got out of the station at Versailles-Rive Gauche to follow the crowd who were obviously visiting the palace. It was so simple, I just hadn't tried it before! The dark clouds were hovering above us but seemed to be lightening up with the mild blow of the wind.

We arrived at the Gate of the palace with gardens so vast that they continued as far as the eyes could see from one side to the other. As we walked through the gardens, the clouds began to part slowly. I took pictures of the many sculptures and statues in different lights, merging partially leaved branches with cotton-wool ball effect clouds behind as scenery. We had lunch in a French-like pavilion in glass and iron on the right side of the water which could neither be described as a lake nor a large pool; dark, but shining on the surface with shadows of tree lines and buildings by its side, clearly reflected upon it.

As we were strolling back towards the main palace gate where the entry and exit signs were allocated,  there was an announcement on the speakers from four corners of the garden. The French manly voice said: "Please gather at the Northern left fountain for an hour of classical music and turn back the clocks. At 5 pm."

We happened to be close by. As we followed the sound of the classical music, by Mozart, being played from the Northern corner of the gardens, miraculously, the sun shone through the white bubble of the clouds. The fountains were dancing with the sound of each note, jetted up in the air, to die down below, time after time. In front of us, appeared a couple dressed in full Louis XIV costume. The lady carried a colourful fan over a lacy glove in one hand, close to her masked face, and wore strong red lipstick. And those shoes; pointed at the toes with a turn-out at the end of the comfortable heels, in gold and red. With the flow of a 'burlesque' bustier giving definition to her waist and cleavage... don't think there is any need to describe that one! Ha-ha ... What a masquerade.

And to add to this surreal scene, a rainbow... yes, a rainbow became strongly visible through the tiny water drops being thrown into the air and their contact with the rays of sun shining on them. It was 'magic'! A miracle.

As we were walking back in a daze of our virtual experience of the whole afternoon, I took more photos of others passing by in full costumes of the era strolling in the streets and having their photo taken.

"Now... I've seen these scenes we just experienced in history books as a child and always wondered what they really looked like. But I never, and I mean never imagined to get a chance to see them 'live'." I confessed, tearful.

"AAaaahhh... Wasn't that pure magic, now!" Dylan was in awe.

Beata was speechless as we strolled to the metro back to Paris. 

the photos of the monuments, gardens, statues, the weather, and the magic of the moments are here...

I hope this is not just a one-way journey... Have you ever been to Versailles? What were your views I wonder?

Relationships can be good

As the high waves of a stormy ocean, the ideas hit me in the face, they slash through my body. 

'And what are those thoughts?' You may ask. This very unpredictable life was created through desire... Desire to live every moment of my day to the fullest possibility of sharing love and joy, scraping beneath the ground at one time and flying above the highest peaks at another. Don't forget that the mind and the body are very much connected. You cannot have a healthy body when your mind is tormented. Then we sit and wonder why so many diseases?! Not at ease...  dis-ease.

Where do these illnesses... pop up from?
Well, what do we expect? We are not at ease in this modern society of so much technology that makes the mind boggled and the spirit confused. Moving so fast in a way that the simple yet complex brain cannot cope with the old ways we were taught and the modern ways the world is directing us to behave. It is almost as though we have created demons to help destroy ourselves. Clones? Wow! Imagine having another one of 'you' walking around the room? It's not that wonderful now... Is it?  the idea could be appealing as a start... Perhaps. But, the actual fact of it... Believe me... Perhaps not!  Someone facing you, just like you in every way. Don't think I could personally cope with another Haldita!

Now where did life take me in the last few days...

"Is it 7 pm already? Damn,  I'm supposed to be at the restaurant at 7!  What's new?" I said to my wonderful help and friend Sumitra, as I was limping around my bedroom with one leg of the tights up, the other about to be pulled up, fitting my feet one by one into the black, wedge shoes.  'Bling' the flashlight of my blackberry on the bedside table is shining. Oh oh... Is it Heidi texting... 'Where are you? We're hungry?' I should text back to tell them to go ahead and eat. I had a late lunch with my heartthrob son at our usual sushi place.  

Nope. It was Heidi indeed to say they were stuck in traffic and running late. Oooofff! Quel relief.

No car tonight. I am out with the girls. Heidi and Anna were at the Dahesa tapas restaurant; buzzing, dingy and popular, off Carnaby Street; a pedestrianised shopping street, close to Soho, popular for followers of both the Mod and hippie styles with various underground music bars of the swinging sixties, now turned into yet another 'trendy' area of London.

"Oops!  Am I late again?" I said as we kissed each other's cheeks with a 'so happy to see you' warm hug. "How's Berto and married life?" I turned to Heidi first.
"Oh... It's great. I have married a good man. We are both busy with work. I need a holiday."  Heidi answered.
"What? Holiday again?" I was a good one to talk!
"But I have been to six weddings around the world this year and I had to miss two already! One of those was in Australia. Not to mention a few birthdays." Heidi definitely deserved a holiday.
Isn't it amazing how we each live such versatile lifestyles? Here, there and everywhere!
"And how are you, Darling?" I now turned to Dahesa. "How is commuting to and fro to Italy to meet your man?"
"Ah ...  It's not easy Haldita.  I spend one weekend in London and the other in Italy to see him.  But he makes me happy and I am thinking of leaving my high-powered job in London and moving to his small town."  Anna said with a content look on her face.
"That's wonderful my love.  Girl... You made it here, you can make it anywhere.  Besides as you agree, there are so many opportunities to create a new idea with so much less competition than in a big city.  Oh... I am not worried for you one bit.  It'll be great."  I was so happy for Anna.
"Yes. I shall have enough to go and make a fresh start and if things don't work out, I can always come back here."  Anna is so wise and so unaffected by the razmataz of the city's high life.  She is following her heart... That is priceless.
"I am so happy for both of you. Finding that man who makes you excited and happy is not easy.  Mind you, it is harder in my position. I've been through the marriage, kids, and work; been there, and done that. Have met enough men to know in one or two meetings... Nope, not for me... and yet, you are definitely invited to my next wedding. I always have hope." And I do.

As the waitress kept pressing us to leave the table for the next round of customers, we left.
"Shall we go somewhere for a last drink?" Anna suggested.
"Sure, Let's go to The 100 Club." Of course, I had further plans to follow early dinner.  Arrangements had been made with Meralda; an old friend I had not seen in a couple of years who was coming to town that evening with her partner; Eric, an old rocker... And no, he was not Eric Clapton, but could have been and by old rocker I meant it as the expression goes.
"Haldita, I love this about you. Of course, I know the 100 Club, haven't been there in 6 years.  One never knows where you are gonna end up; always full of surprises! From Annabels to Brixton." Anna was so totally right.

We met Meralda at the stairs, going down to the stuffy and hot basement.
"So good to see you, Darling."We hugged as I introduced the girls.
"Come and meet Eric." Said Meralda in excitement. "He is very sweet to me. He is a good man."
It was so heart-warming to be amongst three close friends who, in a world where happy relationships seem so hard to come by, were all content with their lives.

(Am I writing a book or what?
I was just getting warm... But it's 3.30 am and I have to get up earlyish to go to Heathrow airport to pick up my brother Soltan and his lovely lady coming to visit.)
Soooooo much more to share just in the past two days!

That evening something special happened. After Heidi and Anna left, two gentlemen friends of Eric arrived. Marco... medium height, curly-haired with a warm and friendly way about him, offered me a drink. I left for the toilets and went by the stage to watch closely, the live band with a member of the Sex Pistols!  Goodness, Sex Pistols... So many years ago. Cool. They are here... I am here!
When the show was over, Marco suggested we join him with a group of new friends he seemed to have just made the acquaintance of at the club, to go to his usual hang-out at the Soho Club.

We all followed Marco to the rooftop, the smoking area of the private bar. Everyone settled with a drink and got chatting under the cloudy sky, sheltered by a large umbrella, enough to cover most of our banquette seating and table. There was certainly chemistry between Marco and me. We just hit it off talking about absolutely everything. Almost oblivious to the fact that everyone around us had left one by one. Goodness, what were we saying? Hours must have passed as I suddenly noticed feeling a sense of wetness under my skirt!

"Oops! What the hell is that?" I exclaimed as I touched the cushioned seat under my skirt.  

"Oh my God, it's all wet... And my bag behind me is all wet! And the bottom of my coat is wet."
After the pouring rain, everyone had left apart from the waiter who occasionally passed by to take away the empty glasses and I was so entangled in conversation with Marco that the heavy drops of rain had not existed.
"Shall we go downstairs,"  Marco well suggested.
And we did. We sat at the bar on the first floor and continued talking and getting slightly more intimate as the evening progressed and the morning began. We kept asking each other... Did we just meet tonight?  
After all, we shared the same Chinese horoscope sign!
It was special meeting a like-minded, warm and friendly man.

We were asked by the manager to leave for their early morning closure of the club. As we closed the door behind us, standing in the shower of rain from the heavens above, Elga appeared from a corner. She seemed to do the rounds in Soho at night and was pleased to see Marco's face.  She came forward to greet us both with a 'hello' kiss. She was sweet and would only ask for help with money for some food and shelter which she probably doesn't always get to, but that's fine.  Now Marco was a true gentleman, he asked Elga to help protect me from the pouring rain with a share of her umbrella. Elga and I walked hand in hand as he got all wet under the rain.

So much still to tell... I have actually just come back... Well, about four hours ago... from a very inspiring Charity event organised by two very promising young men to help awareness of Aids, educate children in parts of Africa and Brazil and help women with a shelter to make handicrafts to sell and make a living to survive. The invite to this meaningful event was from my darling Lola.  God Bless You and Everyone around You.  Thank you.

I shall get back to that story... Promise I will plus my morning visit to the Geographical Society run by KCWC. Women are taking over I tell you.

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I thought I've grown up... but I've only changed my hairdo!

The suspect mind... Suspicious of everything in life... Mistrust.
Or in another term... paranoia. Being programmed to doubt and to question constantly. It's healthy to question but it is how well we train our mind to come up with a positive outcome into a matter that could be troubling us, which makes the difference between making ourselves 'right' or 'wrong'.
But... What's right? Wrong? Who's to decide? Who's judging?

It is difficult, when we are down, to begin to think positively. But we can try.

Now... why am I touching this subject? What's happened?
The curiosity that puzzles me at times and is so clear at other moments in time... Is the different behaviour patterns in every single one of us. It's an endless journey into the human brain.
Sometimes, it seems challenging to say words out of context, to make people react in a way that would leave them questioning themselves at how they came up with the answer they did ...  Let me explain myself better.
At a newly done-up gastro-pub in Chelsea last week, where I met up with Kristel and Risha for lunch, we did a catch-up on our stories since we last met.
"Certain people make you mad with the way they behave!" Was Risha's comment. She is a gentle soul and my artist friend.  Someone she had trusted had let her down.
"But you know we can't change anyone.  The time we give to make a person wrong is part of the valuable time we are wasting.  Instead, let them go and fill up that space with good thoughts.  We only drain ourselves with negative thoughts.  Let's simply replace them."  I had a point to which Risha nodded in agreement.

As we finished lunch and were about to leave, standing by the door to search for our umbrellas through the pile, the three guys sitting at a table nearby turned their heads towards us and one of them said: "I can tell which country you come from..." And he was right!
Now he didn't realise that I also have a sharp tongue.
"Wow, how did you guess?" I said with my naughty smile, "Don't tell me we have had sex and I have forgotten you!"  Oh Oh... In all honesty... I was just kidding! But... Of course, I was. It made us all part with a laugh and no harm was done. Now, you tell me what's so bad about that?!
"I wish," he said jokingly as we left.
I said something funny, he said something funny and that was the end of that.
"By the way," said Kristel as we were walking in the rain with the remainder of the smile on our faces, "he did ask me where you came from when you went to the ladies."
Cute... Haha

We would like to believe that we know so and so,  our close friends, our parents, and children but do we fully know ourselves to be hundred per cent sure that we shall behave exactly this way at this time and the other way at another? Well, if your answer is yes to that.  Good luck to you!

Life is unpredictable. So, how can we be predictable, living that life?
I recall telling my Ex-husband about a high-powered lady we had met; how cold and detached she seemed to be in most people's eyes.
He answered: "What people don't realise, is that if THEY had been in her place, with  her upbringing, her past, her life and what she had gone through to get here, they would be acting in exactly the same way."
I had read about those words, had gone through them in different ways through therapy: 'Everyone has their own ma...', through books and talks: 'We all behave according to the accumulation of our experiences in life'... and lessons learned and re-learned.  But it was not quite until that moment that I truly grasped the meaning of those words.  That lady had an important role to play since the young age of 19, she had to grow up beyond her years at the speed of light, change herself from a girl living a good, but rather 'ordinary' life (and I mean that only in terms of the big change in destiny) into a powerful woman. To be pin-pointed, judged, and questioned by a whole crowd of people who had no clue as to what was truly going on in that woman's heart and mind. People pretend to be someone they are not in order to impress her.  Hearing her words confidently,  only to twist them and make her wrong. Of course, one begins to doubt.  Unless you carry a transparent shield of protection in front of you, keep mostly to yourself and become, perhaps a little harder? More questioning? How else would you keep sane? How else would you survive?

In fact, I just realised the resemblance of the story to Princess Diana; with a Blessed Soul.  Having been writing and thinking of people 'dying', what impact they have in the lives of people close to them, in life and in death, driving through Kensington and having passed in front of Kensington Gardens; where Princess Diana resided, I remembered the only time I saw her in person.

So many years ago... I was wearing a white winter coat with thin black stripes which crossed to make large squares, with a belt tightly fitted and a cloche effect. In a way similar to one I had noticed her wear on the news at ten getting off an aeroplane. As I came to cross the small road coming out of Kensington Gardens, sports, a fancy car approached with two ladies. The driver stopped at the junction to make sure there were no cars passing in order to turn, when I looked at her only to notice Lady Di was looking at me. I became nervous, excited, looked up and crossed the road behind her car as she left.

'You idiot!' I told myself many times after. 'You could have at least smiled back!'
If this would have happened now, I would have at least smiled and blown her a kiss for being so brave. So courageous. So out of that Box. Honest. True to herself and true to everyone who cared to see it.  Didn't I ever make her wrong? Yap, guilty. Didn't she make herself wrong at times? Of course, she questioned whether she was doing the 'right' thing or not. Don't I question myself all the time? The point is... she broke free and it was tantalizing, shocking, and exciting to see her transition from a young, shy girl... into a woman of the world, a Queen of Hearts. Lady Diana must have touched more hearts in this world than anyone I can think of. The proof is in the pudding, her sons are making her so proud. She is watching over them.

Back to now... Having had a very late lunch of three courses at yet another Gordon Ramsey restaurant in Camden, I came home to write a totally different tale, I had watched a romantic movie called 'The Houseboat with Sophia Loren (so womanly) and Cary Grant (my hero).  For the umpth time, I may add.  I was not feeling amorous or anything... Just had different ideas in mind to write about.  Alas, it came down to feeling... 'How much longer can I keep up with the courage of not questioning myself into whether I should continue and write.'
'Or should I crush the small talk of being judged or misinterpreted into tiny molecules and throw them into the air, to get lost in the wind.'
Clearly, I shall not stop now. I want to pour my heart out into an open space.

The world is a playground...Everyone knows it as a kid... We simply forget as we grow up.