Things I miss in Switzerland

I must be a very greedy person. I never thought of myself as greedy, or of being much of a foodie, but having lived in Switzerland for over a year now I find that the things I miss most from England are mainly food related.

Twiglets. A friend came to see me last week and brought me two six-packs of Twiglets. I have so far eaten seven mini packets, one day, I am ashamed to admit, I ate three in a row.There's just something about Twiglets... the crunchiness, the rich yeasty taste... there's nothing like that here. Tortilla chips come a poor second. Plus, my cat adores Twiglets. She is always much more friendly when she catches the aroma of them in the air!

Mints. Not any mints in particular, although I could wax lyrical on the relative merits of mint imperials, mint humbugs, mint creams and mint crumbles... just plain old mints. In Migros there are just three kinds of mints: sports mints (which are soft and chewy - ick), peppermint lozenges (which come in an unsatisfying small roll) and tic-tacs. That's it. A whole isle of chocolate, mind you, but a disappointingly small numbers of minty treats.

Liquorice. I have had one (yes, one) liquorice whirl since I came here. I miss catherine wheels - the long strand of liquorice and then the squidgy dimpled sweet in the middle...

Cheddar cheese. This may be heresy in Switzerland, but I yearn for cheddar. Tesco's Canadian Extra Mature Cheddar. I could eat a block of it.

And finally, my great yearning... Chinese Takeaway. Chicken chow mein. Sweet and sour sauce. Black bean sauce. Bamboo shoots. Peking duck with pancakes. I used to ring up my brother to pick me up from work and we would stop at the takeaway and I would take these delights home for dinner (and often lunch the next day). Or I would have all my friends round and we would spread bin bags on the floor and order a wide selection of food and then sit and share it...

I had better stop now before I start dribbling over my keyboard!

Taking Things Slowly

So I've been out of hospital for a week now. And I'm bored. I am not allowed to go back to having French lessons. I am not allowed to even think about looking for a job. And I'm not even supposed to be thinking about doing voluntary work yet.

So what can I do?

I go to ergothérapie (Tuesdays and Fridays). I have finished my Christmas presents and am now working on restoring an antique dining chair because I thought it looked pretty. Combined with this are physiotherapy - the session I go to is working on posture. Then there is my Affirmation de Soi group. At the moment we are working on making demands and refusing other people's demands. The problem is I don't have many things to ask and no-one has asked me to do anything I haven't wanted to do this week, so my homework has been minimal!

And then if the weather isn't too bad I go to the Kiosque Biblique at Montreux on Thursday and Saturday afternoons.

And of course on Sundays there is church...

But the rest of the time is just this big empty space that I need to fill.

Don't feel like writing at the moment - still waiting to hear back from the literary agents and can't work out if that is a good or a bad thing.

Oh so bored....

I do not like taking things slowly.

A break from the mad house...

Well the psychiatric hospital have let the patient in room 133 out for the day and as my sole reader has been asking me to update... here I am.

Have spent the last ummm.... month and a bit back in Prangins. There are many advantages to being in a psychiatric hospital when you are depressed - the round the clock nurses on call, the weekly meetings with your psychiatrist, the structured activities (ergothérapie! I've missed doing you so much...), the chance to look around in the dining room and realise that, actually, there are people in here a lot worse off than you... but sadly the idea of internet access has not quite caught on. It's like going cold turkey - no e-mails, no Facebook, no blogging, no English Forum... argh!

Seem to be slowly crawling out of the pit again, but still ploughing through the 'long, difficult task' of sorting myself out. Some days are good, some days a little bit harder (I know that's from a song, but I can't for the life of me remember which one). I've been able to see Fluffy, the little black and white cat who haunts the hospital grounds and eats cat food faster than any other cat I've known (and this, considering that Tabitha was on a diet for over a year because she was so fat, is saying something). And I have started lots of lovely craft projects and Christmas presents - talk about planning ahead.

While I was in hospital my copy of the 2011 Writers' and Artists' Yearbook came through, so I devoted many hours to devouring it and even more to carefully crafting a synopsis and cover letter, both of which have been put to use in a submission to the Caroline Sheldon Literary Agency - eek! The website says they aim to respond within four weeks, so I shall be anxiously checking e-mails every time I get leave.

Well today's leave was for laundry, so I'd better go and get some out of the machine!

Christmas Carols, Uncookable Rice and T-storms

I woke up at 3:30am this morning. I lay in my parents' spare room and went though the Twenty Questions of Nocturnal Awakeness. Did I take my medication last night? Am I too hot? Am I too cold? Am I hungry? Am I thirsty? Are those wretched birds singing outside the window? Am I worried about something?... and so on. No good. Could not pinpoint the source of the early morning wake up at all. So I laid there, amused myself by telling a story in French, and finally got back to sleep.

Sunday mornings come too early as it is. The whole first part of the day is a rush to get out of the door on time, with everything we need. Quiet Time-Bath-Dress-Breakfast-Clean Teeth-Pack-Leave. With a very slight chance of a 'check e-mails' if the clock allows...

Then when we got to church there was this slightly unreal sense of being at the right place, but at the wrong time. I suppose the sight of my father reading 'The 31 Days of Christmas' should have forewarned me to some extent, but nevertheless I really wasn't expecting to sing a Christmas carol in church. In July. However, I have to admit that a) the said carol really did fit with the sermon, and b) having spent the whole of last December in hospital, it was quite nice to sing a Christmas carol, as I missed that experience last winter!

Sermon was excellent too. Unfortunately I am still suffering from 'stuffed-with-sawdust' syndrome (wasn't that the Tin Man in the Wizard of Oz?) so what should have been a real encouragement and blessing to me was met by an intellectual consent but an emotional blank. I don't like feeling blank. Must talk to my psychiatrist about this.

Am having a bad day rice-wise. Lunch's rice refused to cook, and the rice pudding I am trying to cook at this moment is showing the same stubborn resistance to heat and moisture. Obstinate stuff.

My mother's weather forecast this morning was 'T-storms'. Not an item of clothing, or a hot beverage, but, apparently, a shortened form of 'thunderstorm'. And we had one. Right in the middle of this evening's service. The thunder itself was unimpressive, but the rain was so loud I struggled to hear the preacher. But, rather like the proverbial tea-cup storm, it was of short duration. Still hot and heavy weather though. Hope the workmen let me have my windows open tomorrow.

Welcome to my world...

So, here I am, first blog. Never done this before... but I feel the need to muse about my life in general so I thought I'd give this a go.

I went to the Montreux Jazz Festival today to man the Kiosque Biblique with my dad. It was warm and beautiful by the lake, although the white, graffiti-marred tents did rather spoil the view! I wandered the stalls bare-foot, gathering lots of ideas for my next projects at Ergothérapie - why spend the money when I can create a personalised version for free? I have to say I didn't actually hear much jazz - or any other music for that matter, apart from the single CD of African Music that the soaps-and-hair-braiding stall across the way played over, and over, and over again!

Rather disappointing on the witnessing front, not a single conversation (although people did take free literature). I didn't manage to accost a single stranger - but I did do my 'compliment of the day' - to my dad.

I had a little wobble whilst reading 'Daylight at Midnight' (about the book of Esther). What was supposed to be research for my next book but it turned out to be a little too close to home leading to difficult thoughts about responding to the challenges God sends in our lives. But a chat with my dad and a walk smoothed that over (plus one of my little white pills) - doctor's advice followed, and, as usual, it worked!

May be back for more later... let's see how it goes.