Just to update you...The rat was caught.
"We have the worst possible outcome." My husband said this morning.
"Is it dead?" I asked, cutting to the chase.
"No," he said - "it's injured and it's under the chest of drawers whimpering."
"Ewch!"
It was tempted by the peanut butter we put out for it (thanks for the tip readers!) - but the rat obviously managed to escape the trap somehow. The next problem was how to dispatch the injured rodent.
My husband got out his airgun (preferring that option to the bludgeoning one). Suffice to say - the rat is now gone.... It hid - but it didn't run.
Also, the puppy cried again all night - but we put her a little further out of earshot, so everyone had a better night's sleep.
Meanwhile (and on a lighter note) - I read this lovely article by Xanthe Clay on Kenya's tea producing this morning called, 'Celebrate Tea; from Kenya to your cuppa". She visited a tea cooperative in the Rift Valley and learned how to pick leaves.
Some fascinating facts:
"According to the UK Tea Council we drink 165 million cups of tea a day, an average of more than two cups per man, woman, and child – that’s twice the amount of coffee we get through.
More than half of our tea comes from Kenya, almost all in the blends used in tea bags. Professional blenders, who make the recipes for these mixtures, love Kenyan tea for its bright copper colour and “brisk” flavour, the perky liveliness, a balance of astringency and tannin that’s hard to describe but is instantly recognisable in a really refreshing cup of tea. As the Typhoo advertisement would have it, the “Ooh”. "
To read more, click here
The diary of a British expat living in Kenya. News, views, debate and a healthy dose of trivia.
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Monday, June 18, 2012
A tricky state of affairs - puppies and rats
Along with the building work, both at our house and on the neighbouring plot (they are starting to dig a borehole right on our boundary today - noisy work) - we got a new springer spaniel puppy.
The timing is not great. The bits of the house that we can still use are starting to look a little squalid. There's mould growing on our temporary kitchen wall. In every available corner there is (chewable) 'stuff' heaped up in an ad hoc fashion. I'm getting to the end of my patience with the noise, the chaos, the dust. It's getting cold in Nairobi (winter has come early) - the sky is grey - matching the cement screed floors, plastered walls, piles of hardcore. I wonder if the house will ever look pretty - my husband says that all the grey reminds him of a prison cell.
The timing is not great. The bits of the house that we can still use are starting to look a little squalid. There's mould growing on our temporary kitchen wall. In every available corner there is (chewable) 'stuff' heaped up in an ad hoc fashion. I'm getting to the end of my patience with the noise, the chaos, the dust. It's getting cold in Nairobi (winter has come early) - the sky is grey - matching the cement screed floors, plastered walls, piles of hardcore. I wonder if the house will ever look pretty - my husband says that all the grey reminds him of a prison cell.
 |
| New puppy - 2 months old and extremely needy |
However, the kids are (needless to say) delighted with the new addition to the family and spent the whole weekend gamboling around with the puppy in the garden. Her arrival has cheered us all up.. but if only she would sleep at night! Last night she was howling at the bottom of the stairs from10pm (for 1.5 hours), then at 2.45am (for 1 hour) - waking the traumatised kids up x3 times on a school night. Our eldest has a piano exam today.
As if they weren't already traumatised....
On Sunday morning we had another new arrival (connected with the squalid state of our house). Accessing our bathroom means going through a new room that has a rough cement floor, is full of building materials, it's pitch dark at night and there are open/unglazed windows with only bars there. Unbeknownst to me, on Saturday night, an unwanted visitor came into the sitting room through a door that was left open when my husband headed off 'on safari' to have a bath.
On reflection, I thought I heard an unexplained clatter in the room (while holding a sleeping puppy on my lap and watching TV) but at the time, thought nothing of it.
 |
| The scene of the crime... |
6am Monday morning:
"Daddy there's a rat in the sitting room!" - our 9 year old daughter exclaimed. They were standing by our temporary outdoor sink. (pictured above)
My husband was more concerned with clearing up puppy mess and sorting out puppy breakfast. I was in bed, trying to catch up on lost sleep (after all, the puppy was his idea)
"What? I don't understand what you are saying?" He said to my daughter. "I can't even hear you. A what?"
"Dad, I don't know exactly if it's a rat or a mouse - but look, it's right there! In our sitting room! There, at the window!"
"What on earth?" my husband says, (or words to that effect), when he finally looks up.
And there he or she is, looking back at a shocked pair of faces that are outside looking in - bold as brass, happily posing for photographs - from right inside the house!
My husband's video clip voiceover goes something like; "There's a rat in ma kitchen what am a gonna do?"
"Love" my husband calls up to me, "there's a rat in the sitting room!"
"I don't want to know!" I reply, "In fact I'm going back to sleep."
He comes upstairs with a cup of tea a little time after.
"I want today to be over." I say. Sundays can be a little harder work for me than the other days of the week..
"What, already?" he replies. "But you're not even up yet?"
"Happy father's day by the way..." I say. He laughs - ironically..
Much later, I find evidence of the rat's night time activities in the sitting room - rat poo, a gnawed wooden drawer, a gnawed piece of wrapping paper. I think about the fact that rats have fleas. I wonder if it's still in the house, or whether it has gone back into the garden; ideally out through an open window.
In the evening we decide to put down rat traps just in case. Just before putting them down, I poke my head into the now out-of-bounds room (I mourn my TV supper) and to my horror, witness a black blur streak across the carpet. My husband sets to work on the traps and snaps his fingers twice. We put some hard cheese in place on the cheap-but-effective 100 bob traps.
Half an hour later, while hiding in the kitchen, I hear a promising snap. I can't believe our luck. I cajole my husband out of the bath and into the living room (I'm not going in there) to have a look. The cheese has gone but there's no sign of any rat. We've basically given him a delicious supper. I guess that will save him from snacking on the chest of drawers, I say... Grr.
In the morning, we notice that the cheese on the second trap is dotted with ratty tooth marks (as if to taunt us) but the cheese is still in place and there's no dead rat in evidence.
Which means it's still in there..... shiver.....
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Celebrity advice
I can see that if you are constantly in the public eye - it might be easy for things to go astray in the fashion department. Perhaps it's a case of no one daring to say 'The Emporer's got no Clothes!'. Occasionally what might be required is a work of advice....
Dear Mr Johnny Depp,
I saw you at the MTV Movie awards a little time ago - strumming on base guitar before accepting your 'popcorn' award. May I put it to you, that the eyeliner, silly hat, bob hairstyle, teenage jewellery and tattoos just have to go - you can no longer carry this off at your age.
Your own children must be embarrassed. The Keith Richards personae (of Pirates of the Caribbean franchise) seems to have gone to your head entirely; you are not an ageing rocker. Nor do I particularly like your weird Tim Burton, two dimensional and frankly scary-to-small-children 'costume' characters that appear in family movies with alarming regularity.
You were once a devastatingly handsome man who could rival Brad Pitt any day - and you could be again, but this will require a little effort on your part (especially if you are soon to be single once again!). Reprise some crime drama roles. At the moment, this is such a disappointment.
****
I am in very much in awe of Kate Middleton and all the work she's doing with her hectic diary of public events at the moment. I'll be the first to admit that I'm always googling to see what she wore to an event - love it, love it - but I have to ask you, aren't we channelling 'Robin Hood' a little too heavily here? Perhaps it's the fact that she is in Nottingham (and throwing a 'mock' spear) that made me think of it.
Dear Mr Johnny Depp,
 |
| Johnny Depp looking frankly odd |
Your own children must be embarrassed. The Keith Richards personae (of Pirates of the Caribbean franchise) seems to have gone to your head entirely; you are not an ageing rocker. Nor do I particularly like your weird Tim Burton, two dimensional and frankly scary-to-small-children 'costume' characters that appear in family movies with alarming regularity.
 |
| Depp;s former, more handsome self |
You were once a devastatingly handsome man who could rival Brad Pitt any day - and you could be again, but this will require a little effort on your part (especially if you are soon to be single once again!). Reprise some crime drama roles. At the moment, this is such a disappointment.
****
I am in very much in awe of Kate Middleton and all the work she's doing with her hectic diary of public events at the moment. I'll be the first to admit that I'm always googling to see what she wore to an event - love it, love it - but I have to ask you, aren't we channelling 'Robin Hood' a little too heavily here? Perhaps it's the fact that she is in Nottingham (and throwing a 'mock' spear) that made me think of it.
 |
| Kate in Nottingham - channelling Robin Hood |
 |
| Further Robin Hood hats at the Jubilee River Pageant |
 |
| It's a shame to make a 30 year old wear so many hats! |
 |
| And at the Service of Thanksgiving |
Expat Shopping Frenzy
It’s getting to that time of year again. An annual trip home to UK is imminent and with it will be the frenetic days of shopping that sees me mutate into some kind of a crazed, credit card wielding bargain hunter in a high street version of supermarket sweep, while family and friends look on in shock and bemusement.
Annual shopping Frenzy
While in England I’ll commonly lie-awake at night thinking up ways of wangling shopping trips into days that are supposed to be dedicated to more family-friendly activities. To give an example, while headed off on holiday to a caravan in Wales, I insisted on a short stop-off at Cribbs Causeway shopping centre (and it's a massive place) – not to go food shopping – but to do John Lewis school uniform and shoes (4 pairs per child, trainers and black shoes, one pair a size up to grow into), replacement work suits for my husband and a quick nip across the forecourt to look at the Gap sale-rail, opposite the coffee shop where I’d parked the rest of the family with overpriced coffee and sugar rush inducing cupcakes. End result – less beach/holiday time – more shopping anxiety.
Through the summer trip back home, my mind will constantly be racing over what to source then buy for the birthdays of godchildren, grandparents, nieces and nephews who are owed presents that are months overdue, and of course presents for my own children for whom birthdays and Christmas are obviously looming over the coming 11 months. I’ll even be thinking about stocking fillers and gifts things to bring back for people back in Nairobi. Hell, if they sold Easter Eggs in August, I’d be buying them. Ridiculous, I know.
In reality – although I’m the first to admit that I love, love, love shopping and being self-indulgent – over the other11 months of the year, although I'm never one to pass-up a shopping opportunity, circumstances dictate that I’ll buy comparatively little. (Bah humbug – I hear you say).
Shopping in Nairobi
I have to admit that there are a couple of clothes and shoes stores in Nairobi that I can’t resist when I feel the need for spoiling. I'm a materialist - I love buying clothes and things for the house, it invariably cheers me up no end – but at Nairobi prices? Local purchases (other then food) are once in a blue moon. In reality months often go by without a single purchase. Why? Because goods in Nairobi are much more expensive than back home, thanks to the horribly steep import tax.
While it is definitely possible to buy almost anything here, an emergency pair of trainer’s for your son or daughter, pyjamas, even a computer or phone – the new things you buy locally will be at a premium. There’s less choice of goods on offer and you’ll find yourself paying much more than you are used to, for lower quality stuff.
Over the rest of the year, I’ll be found sewing up holes (waging all-out war on moths) and gluing together children’s trainers – all the while, only too starkly aware of the humbling fact that our possessions are myriad in comparison to what everyone around us gets by on.
“But Mum – I need new trainers, mine are falling apart and my toes are curling!” My daughter says.
“Yes, yes” – I reply brusquely, “But they’ll have to last for the next 4 weeks won’t they?” I found myself saying at half term.
When the 5 of us arrive back in England, our washed-out, ill-fitting old clothes usually come painfully into sharp focus (particularly the children’s, I’m ashamed to say). Friends and family take pity on us offering gratefully received hand-me-down clothes to save us from the indignity and total shame. It's sure to say that living in Kenya you might be paid less, but you can save more.
Internet shopping for expats
While internet shopping is just one click away for friends in England – I’ve decided now that for me it’s unworkable. After years of shopping disasters I’ve realised that what looks good on the online model does not necessarily translate, the quality is never the same, clothes rarely fit – and sending goods back ‘within 2 weeks’ is an impossibility – I’ve almost given up on internet shopping. Almost.... I recently ordered our middle daughter some Gap jeans in the sale. Sadly she couldn’t get into them so I ended up giving them to a friend’s (skinnier) daughter as part of a birthday present. That went down well, but it’s galling that a lot of ‘mistake’ purchases that I’ve made in haste have had to be given away.
The sad thing about rushed-shopping back home, (often trying to fit a year’s worth of purchasing into 3-4 weeks) is that they joy goes out of it. After a week or so’s endless sale rail scanning, handing over your bank card yet again starts to make you feel physically sick. I'm sure that if I didn't set myself up for this round of frantic shopping, we'd still get by just fine. I should definitely buy less. Having said that, thanks to the building project, this year I’m planning to look for door knobs, wall paper rolls and light fittings. Oh help us!
Anyway, in these days of recession and austerity – I realise that we are extremely lucky to be semi-protected from a developed world media campaign seducing us to shop constantly. If I was still living in England, I know that I would be the first person to feel a pressing need for new Springtime shoes, a pretty top for the weekend or a set of new bed linen – at the sight of the first offer.
Sadly, along with an economic boom, the outside pressure is coming at juggernaut speed. More low-income earners are now smoking cigarettes, shiny shopping centres are everywhere and the comparatively expensive KFC take-away is now the ultimate status symbol in town.
Read more here: http://www.bloomberg.com/news/2012-05-08/kfc-bet-on-africa-middle-class-draws-global-retailers.html
Buy less, Donate – Don’t Bin
I was humbled the other day, when I heard an austerity-hit retired Greek lady who hasn’t received a pension for 6 months, explain on BBC world radio that she had not bought any new clothes or shoes for over a year. I’m not sure I’d be able to hold out that long.
Shortly after hearing that report, I read the below article in the Telegraph – 1.5 million tons of clothes and textiles go into UK landfill sites every year and the number is rising. Shoppers are throwing clothes away with their weekly rubbish, from designer labels to Primark – and many of them have barely worn. The message of the article is Buy Less, Don’t Bin – Donate.
Read more: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/earth/earthnews/9301326/Clothes-join-rubbish-of-our-throwaway-society.html
We are lucky to be able to donate here in Kenya with very little effort involved. Second-hand clothes are comparatively expensive here. Even though many of them are donated/charity items sent from the West, traders still have to pay clearing and import duty once they arrive at Mombasa port, which pushes retail prices ever higher. Second-hand Primark, Tescos or Asda clothes will cost more second-hand here in Kenya, than they do new. Such is the thirst for 'free' second-hand clothes, that once they are sorted at home; they’re swept up and distributed for re-use, almost before you can bag them up.
My ‘just turned 12’ year old and now ‘brand-aware’ daughter, is into the clothes label ‘Hollister’. She was pleased as punch to get her first ever Hollister t-shirts from UK relatives for her birthday. The irony is that one of the builders (fundis) currently working on our house extension wears a trendy red Hollister t-shirt every day! He obviously bought it from one of the second hand markets here.
A friend’s teenage sons who attend school in England have recognised the craziness and are capitalising from it. They source designer second-hand clothes in Kenya’s markets then re-sell them back to UK friends in school as ‘vintage’. Seriously, those boys will go far. What goes around comes around.
 |
| Shopping Frenzy |
While in England I’ll commonly lie-awake at night thinking up ways of wangling shopping trips into days that are supposed to be dedicated to more family-friendly activities. To give an example, while headed off on holiday to a caravan in Wales, I insisted on a short stop-off at Cribbs Causeway shopping centre (and it's a massive place) – not to go food shopping – but to do John Lewis school uniform and shoes (4 pairs per child, trainers and black shoes, one pair a size up to grow into), replacement work suits for my husband and a quick nip across the forecourt to look at the Gap sale-rail, opposite the coffee shop where I’d parked the rest of the family with overpriced coffee and sugar rush inducing cupcakes. End result – less beach/holiday time – more shopping anxiety.
Through the summer trip back home, my mind will constantly be racing over what to source then buy for the birthdays of godchildren, grandparents, nieces and nephews who are owed presents that are months overdue, and of course presents for my own children for whom birthdays and Christmas are obviously looming over the coming 11 months. I’ll even be thinking about stocking fillers and gifts things to bring back for people back in Nairobi. Hell, if they sold Easter Eggs in August, I’d be buying them. Ridiculous, I know.
In reality – although I’m the first to admit that I love, love, love shopping and being self-indulgent – over the other11 months of the year, although I'm never one to pass-up a shopping opportunity, circumstances dictate that I’ll buy comparatively little. (Bah humbug – I hear you say).
Shopping in Nairobi
I have to admit that there are a couple of clothes and shoes stores in Nairobi that I can’t resist when I feel the need for spoiling. I'm a materialist - I love buying clothes and things for the house, it invariably cheers me up no end – but at Nairobi prices? Local purchases (other then food) are once in a blue moon. In reality months often go by without a single purchase. Why? Because goods in Nairobi are much more expensive than back home, thanks to the horribly steep import tax.
While it is definitely possible to buy almost anything here, an emergency pair of trainer’s for your son or daughter, pyjamas, even a computer or phone – the new things you buy locally will be at a premium. There’s less choice of goods on offer and you’ll find yourself paying much more than you are used to, for lower quality stuff.
Over the rest of the year, I’ll be found sewing up holes (waging all-out war on moths) and gluing together children’s trainers – all the while, only too starkly aware of the humbling fact that our possessions are myriad in comparison to what everyone around us gets by on.
“But Mum – I need new trainers, mine are falling apart and my toes are curling!” My daughter says.
“Yes, yes” – I reply brusquely, “But they’ll have to last for the next 4 weeks won’t they?” I found myself saying at half term.
When the 5 of us arrive back in England, our washed-out, ill-fitting old clothes usually come painfully into sharp focus (particularly the children’s, I’m ashamed to say). Friends and family take pity on us offering gratefully received hand-me-down clothes to save us from the indignity and total shame. It's sure to say that living in Kenya you might be paid less, but you can save more.
Internet shopping for expats
While internet shopping is just one click away for friends in England – I’ve decided now that for me it’s unworkable. After years of shopping disasters I’ve realised that what looks good on the online model does not necessarily translate, the quality is never the same, clothes rarely fit – and sending goods back ‘within 2 weeks’ is an impossibility – I’ve almost given up on internet shopping. Almost.... I recently ordered our middle daughter some Gap jeans in the sale. Sadly she couldn’t get into them so I ended up giving them to a friend’s (skinnier) daughter as part of a birthday present. That went down well, but it’s galling that a lot of ‘mistake’ purchases that I’ve made in haste have had to be given away.
The sad thing about rushed-shopping back home, (often trying to fit a year’s worth of purchasing into 3-4 weeks) is that they joy goes out of it. After a week or so’s endless sale rail scanning, handing over your bank card yet again starts to make you feel physically sick. I'm sure that if I didn't set myself up for this round of frantic shopping, we'd still get by just fine. I should definitely buy less. Having said that, thanks to the building project, this year I’m planning to look for door knobs, wall paper rolls and light fittings. Oh help us!
Anyway, in these days of recession and austerity – I realise that we are extremely lucky to be semi-protected from a developed world media campaign seducing us to shop constantly. If I was still living in England, I know that I would be the first person to feel a pressing need for new Springtime shoes, a pretty top for the weekend or a set of new bed linen – at the sight of the first offer.
Sadly, along with an economic boom, the outside pressure is coming at juggernaut speed. More low-income earners are now smoking cigarettes, shiny shopping centres are everywhere and the comparatively expensive KFC take-away is now the ultimate status symbol in town.
Read more here: http://www.bloomberg.com/news/2012-05-08/kfc-bet-on-africa-middle-class-draws-global-retailers.html
Buy less, Donate – Don’t Bin
I was humbled the other day, when I heard an austerity-hit retired Greek lady who hasn’t received a pension for 6 months, explain on BBC world radio that she had not bought any new clothes or shoes for over a year. I’m not sure I’d be able to hold out that long.
Shortly after hearing that report, I read the below article in the Telegraph – 1.5 million tons of clothes and textiles go into UK landfill sites every year and the number is rising. Shoppers are throwing clothes away with their weekly rubbish, from designer labels to Primark – and many of them have barely worn. The message of the article is Buy Less, Don’t Bin – Donate.
 |
| Buy Less - Bin less. Sobering image |
We are lucky to be able to donate here in Kenya with very little effort involved. Second-hand clothes are comparatively expensive here. Even though many of them are donated/charity items sent from the West, traders still have to pay clearing and import duty once they arrive at Mombasa port, which pushes retail prices ever higher. Second-hand Primark, Tescos or Asda clothes will cost more second-hand here in Kenya, than they do new. Such is the thirst for 'free' second-hand clothes, that once they are sorted at home; they’re swept up and distributed for re-use, almost before you can bag them up.
My ‘just turned 12’ year old and now ‘brand-aware’ daughter, is into the clothes label ‘Hollister’. She was pleased as punch to get her first ever Hollister t-shirts from UK relatives for her birthday. The irony is that one of the builders (fundis) currently working on our house extension wears a trendy red Hollister t-shirt every day! He obviously bought it from one of the second hand markets here.
A friend’s teenage sons who attend school in England have recognised the craziness and are capitalising from it. They source designer second-hand clothes in Kenya’s markets then re-sell them back to UK friends in school as ‘vintage’. Seriously, those boys will go far. What goes around comes around.
Wednesday, June 06, 2012
Monday, June 04, 2012
A Right Royal Washout
 |
| The Jubilee River Pageant |
What a shame. The Queen, the very picture of stoicism, standing for 3 hours during the Thames River Pageant in driving rain - and not even a sit-down or a cup of tea to break the monotony or warm up. Would you make your 86 year old granny stand, freezing in the rain for 3 hours? No. And what of her 90 year old husband? Is it possible to keep a smile on your face for that long? Put simply, it's not - but the queen did her level best. In fact it seems that everybody did heroically under the circumstances (except the BBC who have been slammed for their inane, dreadful commentary during live televised proceedings - and Kate who looked very nice, but has been accused by the Daily Mail of dressing to upstage the Queen) -
I didn't watch the whole thing, but by the time we got to the rain soaked operatic singers at the finale on Sky news - it was hard to watch. Let's hope the Queen endures the next couple of days of yet more public appearances and official functions without falling sick or needing a day in bed. Hot toddy anyone? Best of British with the rest of the celebrations! (Getting remarkably cold and grey here in Nairobi too - perhaps in sympathy?!)
 |
| A stoic looking queen - keen not to let anyone down |
 |
| and the UK street parties |
Also killing time - on Saturday I took the girls to the cinema (in a big city mall) to watch 'The Avengers'. I was enjoying the film very much - happily munching popcorn, right up until the point that the multiple explosions on screen caused me to wonder whether we might get suddenly bombed by Al Shabaab - and whether I'd ever be able to locate and extract all three children in the dark. The film passed uneventfully and fortuately by the end of the weekend, even my husband returned from his Rhino Charge 'are you tough enough?' alpha male bush-challenge, unscathed and annoyingly looking pleased with himself.
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