Day 101-104

Hair is not highlighted. It is streaky beige/grey and not in a good way. It took 3 Nepali women 4 hours of staring at my head whilst prodding colour on it and then making expressive faces at each other. Am very disappointed with the end result, but like all women in hairdressing salons round the world I pronounced it was 'fantastic, thank you very much', parted with my fiver without bitterness and resigned myself to having to live with muddy brown hair until I get home to Scotland.

Saw a new baby (born the same day!) being bathed in the street. Fern and Clover were thrilled and we all stood in awe and watched the wee one being washed - umbilical cord still on and still covered in vernix. The young mum looked shocked and sore but still smiled at us. I wanted so badly to take a photo but worried it was inappropriate. We are told in the West that babies need sterilised within an inch of their lives, shouldn't be outdoors, need to be swaddled etc etc... and here is a newborn washed in a bucket in the sunshine with cheap soap. It seemed fine to me. The high cry and outstretched hands just translate across all race and culture and really is the best sight and sound ever to be seen and heard. Obviously I thought immediately about giving the mum £1000 and striking a deal but I tried to be selfless, rational and mature and we all left happy and privileged to see such a vision. I'll certainly go back after a few sleepless nights though and try and haggle her down to about £500, she is poor and desperate.

Spent a lovely evening (again in Kilroy's - we went for lunch and left at 7.30pm) chatting to a German transsexual psychiatrist with psoriasis - Kathmandu attracts the best people. She loves the trekking but can't get above 3700m as the altitude sickness affects her so badly and inflames her skin. She used to live in Kathmandu (I think pre-op) but has returned to Berlin where she is a consultant psychiatrist in a hospital. She has a huge Adam's apple, jet black hair, giant feet and hands and is about 7ft 3 - so not the best one I have seen. But the world's most interesting and bravest people seem to gravitate here and so they should - it is a tolerant city of others - which sits in contrast to the harsh cultural expectations of its own citizens.

Only 3 days until Rufus heads up to Base Camp Everest for his 18 day solo ascent. At over 17,500 feet Base Camp is way more than half way up the mountain. What worries me most is his description of a fantasy he has been having - that he will meet and get chatting with a British expedition who will have just lost a team member due to fatigue or altitude sickness or maybe some other personal reason. He will be invited at the last minute to continue ascending the mountain as part of an organised trip. Now Rufus is amazingly strong, has excellent stamina and is a skilled climber. He has a university degree in this stuff and specific climbing qualifications. He can also hill walk faster than anyone I know and always arrives at the top first, even with very experienced and fit walkers. However - this is something different entirely. He has no experience of ice climbing or altitude sickness. And by nature, he is a bit stupid, pig-headed and reckless. These are not good qualities for an ill prepared assault on the world's most treacherous mountain - 1 in 4 die trying to climb it. My main fear is that even before Base Camp he will fall and die alone in a freezing crevasse croaking 'Katya, help'. And I will be none the wiser as I doubt his mobile will work and nobody else will know where he is. Or his little propeller flight to Lukla airport, one of the most dangerous in the world, will crash. But he is desperate to go and I admire him and want to support his dream. And considering he has earned all the money since we have been in Kathmandu, it is his turn to spend something on himself.

All I can do is assume he will meet no-one (he generally lacks the social skills or interest to make new friends and is happy to admit it), there will not be a British or even European expedition at Base Camp at that time and that nobody would be stupid enough to ask him to join them. Obviously I told him if he did get the chance to climb (meaning he would be away for at least 8 weeks) that I would have left him by the time he got back, cleared out the apartment, chucked his stuff in the bin and would instead be living with the British Ambassador, wearing layers of pastel cashmere and throwing extravagent Ferrero Rocher parties every Friday.

More importantly, how I am supposed to fill the time while he is gone? He's so selfish.