Happy Halloween!

I hadn't realised it before, but Halloween is big business in the Middle East, which is strange given that it is a mix of Celtic practices, Catholic and Roman religious rituals with a few European folk traditions thrown in. Yet the Bahrainis love it.

Our compound takes Halloween very seriously. The owners, a wealthy Bahraini family, even go so far as to deck out an entire section of their home as a haunted house. The "Ghost Gazette" was delivered to the door last week, with instructions for Halloween proceedings and for the first time ever, I felt obliged to invest in some cobwebs and spiders, costumes for the girls and bucketfuls of sweets and lollies. And our black cat, Enid, was an authentic live accessory on the night.

The shop where I went to purchase these Halloween goodies was packed with Bahrainis clutching everything from flashing ghoul lights to vampire fangs. They were queuing out of the door and two women in abayas were having a heated exchange about who had seen a witch's hat first.

At just before six this evening, the first Trick or Treaters arrived and it was a steady stream for the next couple of hours - at least 150 people, I reckon, including quite a lot of dodgy looking teenagers (why are they still interested?) and a fair few domestic staff clearly after the free choccies like everybody else.

Isabelle dressed as a dwarf and Olivia was a witch. She managed to chip her front tooth over the weekend, so could also sport a crooked smile. The tooth now has an infection and she may need an expensive dental procedure. The false teeth I bought her for her costume would have been a far cheaper witch's grin.

Happy Halloween! What did you get up to?

Competitive parenting

Have you noticed how competitive everything is at schools these days? And not between the pupils, between the parents.

Kids' parties have become a hugely lucrative business as parents vie to put on the best show. But do children really need entertainers, bouncy castles and luxury party bags? And why does the whole class have to be invited? What's wrong with inviting a select few for pass-the-parcel and jelly and ice-cream?

Another breeding ground for oneupmanship is the school dress-up day. Olivia had one recently. She has been studying Ancient Egypt and the whole of her year had to come dressed for an Egyptian feast. Which is a great idea, except for the frenzy it seems to cause among parents as they desperately try to outdo each other on the costume front. Outfits were commissioned from local tailors or sent for at great expense from overseas websites, designs were endlessly discussed in the playground. Is it any wonder kids become demanding?

According to the British press, parents are now spending up to GBP150 on "manger chic" designer costumes for their children taking part in nativity plays. The UK department store Debenhams noticed the trend a couple of weeks ago when parents began asking the store's personal shoppers how to create the perfect nativity makeover. Ivory white bridesmaid dresses, bejewelled turbans and fleeced duffle coats (for the donkeys, apparently) were being snapped up.

The store noticed that it was the parents of those children cast in the minor parts of sheep and donkeys that were spending more, presumably to compensate for the lack of a starring role. This is competitive parenting gone mad. What's wrong with a tea-towel and a bit of tinsel? As a representative of Debenhams put it:"The amount of money that some parents want to spend on their child's nativity play appearance would enable Baby Jesus to leave the stable and check into a five-star hotel." Quite.

Yet just look at the photo above to see what can be achieved with a white nightie, an old gold scarf, some cheap bracelets from the souk and liberal application of Rimmel eyeshadow and eyeliner. I give you "Livvy-o-patra" for the princely sum of less than a tenner. Oh, and no agro (priceless).

Joy!

Oh joy! Happiness, gladness, glee, delight, elation, jubilation ... you get the drift of my mood.

The children went back to school this morning. Home schooling is at an end. The house is quiet and I am calm - at least until 3.30pm.

The joys of home schooling

Bahrain's education authorities have re-closed the primary schools until 18 October. Swine flu strikes again!

The girls' school is preparing weekly packs so that parents can teach their children at home until schools reopen. In other words, we have had home schooling forced upon us.

While many parents have been venting their spleen in the local press, a lone mother wrote in trying to sound a positive note. We must, said she, view this as an extraordinary opportunity to bond with our children. People should be more positive and start seeing this as a situation where the cup is half full rather than half empty. Coffee mornings and gym sessions should be put on hold for a month while we rally round our offspring.

Stirring words! But maybe she's right, I thought. I've never had the remotest desire to home school, but now that I have no choice, why not at least try to do it with a smile on my face?

We started today. After the first hour, I was finding it very difficult to view my cold, only partially-drunk cafe latte as a cup half full. After a further hour of Olivia's arguing, the only bonding I was interested in was of her lips, tightly together, preferably with super glue.

Only another four days to the weekend! And if anyone reading this home schools, my hat goes off to you - I don't know how you do it.

Double celebration

This weekend was a double celebration in our household: it was our 11th wedding anniversary and the end of Ramadan.

According to a friend of mine, 11 years is your steel anniversary - presumably because that's what you need nerves of to get this far in matrimony.

Neither Ian nor I are very good at remembering our anniversary, but luckily Isabelle and Olivia had elaborate plans in place to make up for our shortcomings. Isabelle ensured Ian was given an anniversary card out of her private hand-made collection on which to write suitable sweet-nothings and Olivia was in cahoots with him to buy flowers and lay a special anniversary dinner table.

Bahrain's preparations for Eid (the holiday at the end of Ramadan) were no less elaborate. Timing is crucial. The start of the three day holiday depends on four criteria being fulfilled. According to the vice-president of the Bahrain Astronomical Society these are:"...first, the moon must be born before the sunset, secondly it must be seen after sunset, thirdly the epoch of the calculations must be at Mecca, and fourthly the moon must be witnessed by people". Yes, I was confused too. For the fourth requirement, Bahrain has an imaginatively-named moon sighting committee.

Quaint as all this moon searching is, it does cause organisational problems. School calendars have entries like "Eid holiday starts - probably", which makes holiday planning a bit tricky.

For Muslims, the holiday is a time for great celebration when family and friends to get together, and wish each other "Eid Mubarak!" (Happy Eid). Children traditionally receive the "Eidiah" - a gift of money - from family, friends and neighbours.

I had a hair appointment on Sunday (the first day of Eid). The salon I use is owned by the daughter of a prominent local businessman and it was full of the females in her family being primped, preened and plucked in preparation for the festivities ahead.

Arab women take their grooming extremely seriously; most of them looked more polished when they entered the salon than I did when I left it. I thought the French and Belgians were beauty addicts - hairdressers in Brussels seem to outnumber all other professions - but Bahraini and Saudi ladies are in a different league. My appointment was at 10am and there was already more Prada and Jimmy Choo in the room than on an Oscar red carpet.

My hairdresser (an Aussie) took great delight in whispering a running who's-who commentary of the great and the good coming into the salon. The anecdote of the morning was the story of the lost watch. Apparently one of these poor ladies had misplaced her timepiece the previous week and thought she may have left it in the salon. It was gold with lots of diamonds - bling is big here - and a gift from her father. Estimated value? BD 14,000 (around GBP 22,700). Not really the sort of item you leave lying around while having your weekly mani-pedi then.

Back to school - at last

School re-opened yesterday. At last. Thankfully the relevant Ministries in Bahrain have not gone the way of those in Oman, where primary schools are now closed until December because of the swine flu epidemic.

The girls were a bit nervous; new school and all that. Here they are in their new uniforms.


By the time we reached their new classrooms, we were all somewhat more disheveled. The humidity was so high that the apparent temperature yesterday was 50 degrees. Yes, 50 degrees! It's hard trying to play the part of the Yummy Mummy when your hair is in frizzy corkscrew curls, your make-up is streaming down your face and you have large wet patches all over your torso.

When I got home (and got changed), I read the story of Fawziya Abdullah Youssef in the local paper. Fawziya was from Yemen. When she was 11, her father married her to a 24-year-old man who works in Saudi Arabia. She has just died giving birth to a stillborn after a difficult delivery. She was 12.

All of which puts into sharp perspective any jitters my girls may have been feeling about their first day at their swanky new private school.

School plays and prizegivings

It's that time of the year again - school reports, prize givings and end of term productions.

Wednesday morning saw the girls partaking in the school production "Be Our Guest" - a seemingly never-ending medley of songs each related to an ingredient for a soup. Olivia was a peperoni, Isabelle a chef. Ian couldn't make it (I'm beginning to think these meetings are just a convenient excuse), but I think the edited video replay was enough.

On Sunday morning I will be at the Gulf Hotel for the end of year prize-giving. Isabelle has beenawarded the Year 4 prize for French and the Year 4 prize for effort in English. And while her older sister wins for trying the most, unfortunately for Olivia there was no category for the being the most trying.....

Birthdays present and future

Olivia turned 7 on May 28th. Her best present was an IPOD nano, which she wears constantly. I have downloaded all her favourite ABBA songs and she's perfecting some pretty mean dance moves when she thinks no-one is looking. Hopefully she will also soon get the hang of removing the earphones before she talks to you instead of bellowing at the top of her voice over Benny and Bjorn's lyrics.

Among her other gifts were some bangles. A great choice, as Olivia loves jewellery. The more sparkly and spangly, the better - which is good when you live in the Middle East, as nothing here is understated.

The other day she was rummaging through my jewellery box and found a pair of earrings she particularly liked.

"Mummy," she said, "I know what I want for my next birthday."

"You've only just had this one," I said.

"Yes, but I just wanted you to know. For my next birthday, I want my ears peeled and then I can wear your earrings too!"

"Peeled ears, eh? I'll see what we can do," I smiled.

Tales from the pool

Isabelle competed today in the St Christophers School Open Swimming Championships. She did 50m freestyle in 46 seconds, knocking over 2 seconds off her previous best time.

St Christophers is reputedly the best school on the island and is certainly the most sporty. The standard of swimming on show was quite extraordinary and the competition keen. 

Isabelle has her own special brand of competitiveness. When I asked her if she was pleased with her time and gaining second place in her heat, she replied that she was, but that the best thing was that she had not qualified for the final as she really couldn't be bothered to go. 

She's not got that killer Aussie competitive edge then..........

Exam technique

Poor Olivia is exhausted. She has been sitting SATs tests all week. It all seems a bit harsh for six year olds.

As a concerned and interested parent, I passed on a few pearls of exam technique wisdom to her.  "Make sure you read the questions" I cautioned. "Don't rush. And try to answer everything. If there is no answer, they can't give you a mark."

Olivia has clearly taken this advice to heart. Yesterday was the English comprehension assessment and she could answer all but one question. 

"But," she told me proudly,"I didn't leave it blank."

"Well done!" I said. "You took a guess then?"

"No," she replied. "I wrote: I am sorry, I just do not know the answer."

Camels

The King of Bahrain has a hobby - camel breeding. He keeps the camels on a farm near the girls' school. He currently has over 400. As we had a friend in town over the weekend, we went to visit them.

According to Olivia, camels:

1. Smell.

2. Have bad teeth.

3. Are really grumpy.

She was persuaded to pat this week old baby though.

More Enid

This is Enid.

She is definitely a she and is about 5 weeks old.

She is eating well and being loved to death by both the girls.

Divine intervention and Enid

We spent Friday afternoon at the Yacht Club where the girls collected crabs in a bucket and then begged to be allowed to take them home as pets.

They were persuaded to return them to the sea, but the whole pet debate was reignited as a result - my stance has always been that we travel too much to have a pet. Truth be told, I'm just not that much of an animal lover.

Isabelle spent the journey home wishing, wishing, wishing for a dog. Olivia wanted a cat, dog, hamster - anything which could be negotiated really.

On our return home, a moment of divine intervention. A little black bundle of fur shot into the garage, mieowed loudly and refused to leave.

And so Enid (after Ms Blyton) came into our lives. At least we think she's a she. If not, Olivia has chosen the name Bernard (?!)

She's off to the vet tomorrow for a once over and gender confirmation.