Day 90

Today I am mainly missing pavements and parks. Rufus and I tried to find Kathmandu's answer to Pollok - the city's Ratna Park. What a dump. We were greeted by a traffic jam, a dead dog and a woman vomiting on the street. The stench of sewage and death was overwhelming; not a suitable place for Pimms and a picnic really. Then I decided I wanted to go window shopping, on a nice, leafy boulevard with glass fronted shops, pavement cafes and tree lined kerbsides. Rufus glibly suggested Paris. I had a bit of a cry and a shout at him, but didn't feel much better. I am homesick and exasperated by life here. It is too hot and too busy. I miss the pace of life in my little village in Scotland where things are easy and plentifully available. I had a temper tantrum in the supermarket at the price of oranges (to be fair, £2.50 for four does seem excessive, especially in one of the poorest countries in the world). And by 'supermarket', I mean hot, smelly, small room with dirty shelves of tinned papaya, unrecognisable vegetables that look more like sex toys and freezers full of fish heads and buffalo intenstines. So I stomped home and priced flights to Bangkok. Always wanting to be somewhere else - think I have found my epitaph.

I never phoned my Nepali dance teacher and am currently wallowing in the self-loathing which generally accompanies such a decision. I did pass a yoga centre though and vaguely looked twice at it. Maybe I will choose not to call them instead. Feeling a bit flat, I went into the Hyatt Regency, our local 5 star hotel, intending to drink espresso and read the paper and pretend I was rich for an hour. However, I couldn't stay longer than 5 minutes - an American, blank, soul-less place full of snooty staff and angry wealthy idiots demanding things for themselves and ordering overpriced beverages. A place so ridiculous that it charges local residents £15 (an average week's wages here) to use the swimming pool! I can't believe I nearly considered it as suitable accommodation for my visitors - surely I can't know anybody that would ever want to stay there. One night in that hotel can send a local girl to school for a whole year. Furiously, I trudged back down the 500m sweeping driveway clutching my bike helmet, bottle of water and copy of The Himalayan and vowed never to return They can shove their jazz brunch up their arse.

We did have a good day out at the local Monkey Temple where we had to walk 1000 stairs to get a brilliant view of the city and dodge some vicious maternal simians clutching their offspring and baring their teeth. Rufus had to push me the last 990 stairs but I got there in the end. I met a nice Nepali woman and told her I liked her earrings. Next thing I know she has removed the jewels from her ears and shoved them, with considerable force into my own poor little lobes. I protested for a while and tried to cover my ears with my hands. Then I just let her do it and smiled politely. When I tried to return them she refused to accept them back, so I assume they are a gift. And very sparkly and pretty they are too, despite being extremely unhygenic. We also enjoyed a few hours at a lovely cocktail bar and restaurant where Clover danced on the tables and Fern read a book by candlelight and I beamed with pride at their weird, wonderful and different personalities.

On a better note, my lovely Irish ex-sister-in-law sent me a fabulous parcel with knickers and slippers in it; I nearly wept with joy. And I am reading a fantastic book about a disastrous attempt at Everest and have thus launched a passive sofa-based interest in extreme mountaineering that I never knew I had. I am fascinated by other people's incredible human endeavours and ashamed by my own lack of personal achievement. I have climbed nothing, marvelled at nothing and have never felt that incredible sense of ascension nor triumphed at a breathtaking vista. I don't think Berwick Law counts, although I remember being quite pleased when I got to the top.

We have adopted a stray dog who we have named Black Dog (see photo). When I say adopted, I mean we give him food and water but don't touch him or let him in the house - it is not adoption in the strictest sense although it does temporarily assuage my need to parent Little P, the saddest little girl in the world. Black Dog is a skanky looking thing who can't have much time left in this life and it makes us all feel better to look after him. On that note, we have invited Little P for a fun-packed family day out on Saturday which not only crosses all my professional boundaries but pretty much pisses all over them. Still, she might have a nice time and I get to pretend I am doing the right thing for merely altruistic purposes.