The Gender Blog

Today’s the last day of our quick hop across to Florida on holiday – a lovely break in many ways,  but not an unqualified success in others.

As a word of warning to any other non-US passport holders: be prepared for delays and possible problems at Immigration if you’ve changed your passport recently.  TLS and I landed at Miami at 4pm local time last Thursday,  very much looking forward to our week’s holiday here over the 4^th July weekend. We’d had an uneventful flight, which had landed on time and we were early in the immigration queue.  I was processed with no problems and went on ahead to retrieve our bags,  but TLS was asked to accompany a Homeland Security employee to an office for what was described as a “brief chat” in order to “discuss” an apparent discrepancy on his passport.

He managed to tell me all of this via text before he (and he alone, out of the hundred-odd other people in the holding pen) had his phone confiscated … and we then spent FOUR HOURS sitting in separate parts of Miami airport each wondering what was happening. I was going out of my mind with worry, particularly after an airline official took the time and trouble to tell me that he might be deported (!) – a great start to our much anticipated holiday.

It eventually transpired that there are still apparently teething problems with the new ESTA system – the recently introduced on-line visa waiver process which replaces the old green form which one used to have to fill in on the plane.  We each applied for ESTAs (and were granted them) last September when we went over to California.  Since then,  TLS has replaced his passport,  so he naturally applied for a new ESTA – and, again,  was granted one on-line. Unfortunately, the ESTA software isn’t sophisticated enough (or perhaps doesn’t “talk” to other systems)  and doesn’t know when a passport has expired – all it sees is that there are TWO ESTAs live in the system,  each attached to different passports.

Ding ding!

Problem!

Arrest the innocent traveller and treat him like a criminal! Retain him in a hot, airless room with no facilities for four hours,  accuse him of applying for a new ESTA with an old passport … then accept that actually,  the correct passport was used – and then release him without a single word of apology.

So that was how our holiday started.

We were so exhausted by the time we got to our eventual destination in Fort Lauderdale that I didn’t even notice (or care) that we’d been allocated a room over the valet parking desk …. not the tranquil location for which we’d been hoping.

But we have subsequently learned that the one time when everyone will want to use valet parking is when there’s heavy rain – and what have we had for the majority of our time here? That’s right: the heaviest rain seen in this area for about 60 years!  Whilst London basks in blue skies and balmy temperatures,  southern Florida has 90 degrees F heat, 99% humidity and,  yesterday at least,  the most rain falling in one day since 1952.

But it’s not all bad news … we are two blocks from a branch of Borders (where the in-house coffee shop prepares delicious cinnamon lattes) and I’ve been doing a lot of reading,  due to being trapped indoors by the rain.  Here’s some of the books I’ve bought:

Half the Sky – Nicholas D Kristof & Sheryl WuDunn: not available in paperback in the UK for another month,  I’ve been wanting to read this ever since it first came out.

“A brilliantly argued case for investing in the health and autonomy of women worldwide …”

Every Last One – Anna Quindlen : a new novel from one of my favourite novelists, a brilliantly nuanced portrayal of family life and shocking, terrifying change.

1959 – The Year Everything Changed – Fred Kaplan : Not the 1960s, apparently,  but the year earlier which  “ushered in the wave of tremendous cultural, political, and scientific shifts that would play out in the decades that followed …”

Purchased because it was placed (nice work, Borders) on the table adjacent to:

Mad Men and Philosophy – edited by Ron Carveth and James B South: a series of essays which look at the philosophical themes and issues which underpin my favourite TV show.

A Short History of Women – Kate Walbert: Tracing five generations of one family from 1899 through the present, this shows the myriad ways in which women have challenged the status quo, succumbed to it, or made their statements, for better or worse –  their stories here existing almost as a series of interrelated short stories.

And finally:

Hope in a Jar – Beth Harbison: this was perfect fluffy reading for a very wet, stuck indoors afternoon; not great,  but it did give me the earworm of the holiday. It’s the story of two high school friends, Allie and Olivia who have gone their separate ways as adults but who (** cliché alert **) reconnect at their high school reunion. Each chapter starts with a tag line from a past or current ad campaign for a beauty product (“Because you’re worth it!”) and one such chapter got me first singing “It’s gonna be an Avivance night …” and then rushing to YouTube to view the original 70s advert.

Check it out, feel amazed at the world it portrays (housewife whipping off headscarf and apron, adding scent and lipstick,  welcoming home her husband …) and then try and stop it going roundandroundandround in. Your. Head.

I wonder if this is the type of campaign on which Peggy Olson worked in the 1970s?

Earlier this month,  I went along to the UK launch of the book on the left: “How Women Mean Business”,  by Avivah Wittenberg-Cox.

In the spirit of full disclosure,  I should probably mention that I’ve known Avivah for three years; I organised the corporate sponsorship of her previous book’s launches in London, New York and Toronto back in 2008 (it’s called “Why Women Mean Business“,  is co-authored with Alison Maitland and is still the most compelling book out there if you need cold hard FACTS to assist you make a business case for gender diversity)  - and I also contributed an in-book endorsement to the cover of this volume (referenced  elsewhere on the blog under Recommended reading).

So,  moving on – it’s a great book and my review of it and the Nomura-hosted launch event is now on-line here at The Glass Hammer.

… I have a small (platonic) girl crush on Laura Liswood (co-founder of both the White House Project and the Council of World Women Leaders and a Senior Advisor to Goldman Sachs).

I’ve heard her speak lots of times,  I’ve met her a few times,  she featured (and was fabulous) in the film, “Closing the Gender Gap”,  on which I served as Executive Producer in 2008 and, well,  I just happen to think she’s great.  She’s smart, funny, makes some great points around the business and social benefits of gender diversity and is a fabulous advocate for women in leadership.

And now she has a new book out, The Loudest Duck,  in which she reflects on how the Noah’s Ark approach that many organisations take isn’t working. (“If we could only get two of each in the Ark, we’ll have our diversity.”)

Check out her guest entry over on the Catalyst blog and see what you think.

…. and the Gender Blog is back up and functioning,  after a brief April hiatus, which saw me spending ten days in France, having a multitude of interviews for all manner of global diversity jobs (at last! Finally! Is this proof that the economy is on the move,  if companies are once again prepared to invest in senior level diversity roles? I think so) and agreeing to undertake some gender balance writing work for leading Australian company Emberin.

(Emberin founder and CEO Maureen Frank,  the woman I have previously described as “so charismatic she could found her own cult”,  has just published an updated version of her bestselling book “You Go Girlfriend” and has sent me some review copies – so I’ll be reading and reviewing it later this month and offering up a couple of copies to anyone who … OK,  I need to think about that.  But anyway.  Free books,  imminently).

Whilst in France,  I spent a week at this magical place,  the Circle of Misse, on a fiction writing “boot camp” course. Although I’ve been blogging and writing non-fiction for years,  the last time I wrote a “story” was at school and so the disciplines and techniques of writing fiction were a complete mystery to me.  But I came back from Goa a few months ago with a story and a host of characters who just wouldn’t go away – what was I to do with them,  how could I bring them alive on the page?  Just as I was wrestling with this,  I received an email flyer offering a 10% discount on the Circle of Misse “Get Writing!” course and,  before I knew it,  I’d signed up and committed myself to sending through a sample of 3000 words of fiction to the tutor ahead of the course start date.

(c) Circle of Misse, with grateful thanks

In the context of A Room of One’s Own – I discovered that maybe I can write,  a bit. The course, hosts and setting were fabulous; Aaron and Wayne run writing, painting and cookery courses at their beautiful house in the Loire valley and I whole heartedly recommend the Circle of Misse experience for anyone interested in those disciplines who wants to perhaps do what I did – take a kernel of an idea and run with it – and see where you end up.  In my case,  I arrived with a concept,  a few characters and my 3000 words,  and left with closer to 20,000 words,  a fully formed plot and a far greater understanding of the techniques of novel writing.

(I think I’m still rubbish at writing dialogue,  but at least I now know that and can focus on improving those skills.)

Of course,  whilst I was away,  we had VolcanoGate and yes,  I got caught up in it – although it did mean that I still haven’t flown Ryanair,  which perhaps isn’t so bad after all. In common with thousands of other people,  I was stranded in France when my flight back from Tours was cancelled and so we (me and N, the guy from my course) had a highly improvised journey home consisting of a five hour car journey to Le Havre, courtesy of the C of M team, a NINE hour ferry crossing and a two hour drive back to London. And,  although the ferry crossing was e-x-t-r-e-m-e-l-y slow and it was frustrating to have that “so close but yet so far” feeling,  from a writer’s point of view, it was a fascinating experience. 

Subsequently,  I described the boat as a ship of stories, because I heard so many tales of life on the road from people squashed onto the upper deck with me.  The ferry was absolutely heaving with a vast cross-section of travellers,  who had quite literally ended up there from all over the world.  I chatted to one family of four (this was on a Sunday evening) who had left Florida the previous Wednesday, expecting to fly Orlando to Gatwick, change there and fly home to Edinburgh. Five days later, they had flown Orlando to Detroit (?), Detroit to Amsterdam, caught a train from Amsterdam to Brussels,  another train to Paris and then hired a taxi to get them to Le Havre. After we disembarked the ferry,  they were collecting a hire car in Portsmouth and then driving through the night to get back to Scotland.  They hadn’t seen their cases since Florida,  they had only what they were wearing or carrying as hand luggage and Mum reckoned that this “adventure” had cost them in the region of £2000 – more if you add on the fact that their dog had had to stay in kennels for a further 6 days! 

I also met a very dishevelled Irish man in a suit,  who’d flown to Frankfurt the previous Tuesday for a 48 hour trip (he sold sandpaper … but I expect that that was the least of his worries) and who had hitchhiked, trained and bussed his way across Europe to Le Havre; from Portsmouth,  he was catching a cross-country train to the Welsh coast from where he would catch another ferry back to Ireland. So I guess that N and I got off very lightly,  all things considered,  although I am still c. £200 out of pocket and will doubtless remain so unless and until Ryanair cough up a refund for my cancelled flight.

Apart from getting news updates from TLS on volcano and travel related issues,  I was in a complete news avoidance bubble whilst I was in France and I’m still catching up.  It’s a mere four days to the UK’s keenly anticipated General Election and,  in some ways,  nothing much has changed:  the debate is still between three main parties,  led by three white guys,  who all still use the sound bite of “hard working families” (yes, Lib Dems,  even you) at every opportunity.

The Labour Party’s campaign has been challenged by one woman, namely Mrs Duffy from Rochdale – and the current shape of the media is indicated by two things: Mrs Duffy has her own PR rep and the Tories are streaming their anti-Brown Twitter feed onto a moving billboard on London’s A40 (westbound,  just before Hanger Lane,  if you should happen to be stuck in traffic there this week).

And mentioning Twitter …. check out the hilarious #nickcleggsfault hashtag on there … he’s responsible for everything, apparently, according to the right wing press,  including having been spotted poking an Icelandic volcano with a stick in early April.

Busy guy.

Meanwhile,  the Fawcett Society’s What About Women? campaign has been doing a sterling job of keeping women’s issues and concerns front and centre,  even if the all-too-frequent references (not by Fawcett) to this election as the “Mumsnet Election” serves to enrage those of us who aren’t mothers and,  as pointed out in this extremely tart and on-point Guardian column … “reinforce gender stereotypes”  by making women’s concerns focussed on childcare …or Sarah Brown’s footwear.

The Gender Blog  is now streaming to a newly established website, Missive, which has been set up to bring together women who write about politics.  The two founders, Caroline and Sarah,  aim to make it a way for women who write about politics to reach a wider audience.  If you can think of any female bloggers who ought to be on there – please let me know via the Comments function below.

My latest book from “The Big Pile” is Alex von Tunzelmann’s “Indian Summer” - subtitled The Secret History of the End of an Empire.

I picked this up as a way of (belatedly) obtaining some much-needed background and understanding of the history behind the end of the British Raj and the creation of Pakistan, and the book delivers both with both barrels. Threaded throughout the story is Edwina Mountbatten, socialite wife of the “Last Viceroy”,  whose personal (in evey sense of the word,  allegedly) friendships with both Ghandi and Jawaharlal Nehru contributed so much to this era of Anglo-Indian history.

Here’s an interesting passage on women in India in c. 1947:

Women were prominent in India politics, which Edwina Mountbatten, along with many Indian women, attributed to Ghandism.  Non-violence, passive resistance and boycotts were all tactics which could be practised by women without breaking social conventions; and Nehru had insisted as early as 1937 that the Congress manifesto pledge to remove all social, economic and political discrimination against women. As a result,  there were more powerful women in India’s Congress than there were in Britain’s Labour Party or in America’s Democratic Party at the time.

As Edwina would later tell an audience in London, “We shall have to wake up in this country when we see how the women of India have achieved emancipation to such a remarkable degree in spite of the backwardness of the country, the illiteracy of the people, the low standard of life, and all kinds of disadvantages … “

Highly recommended reading,  anyway – definitely one of the best books on India I’ve read to date.

Sarah MacDonald’s “Holy Cow!” is the book on India that I wish I’d written – a wonderful (and very funny) account of her two years here whilst her husband was the India correspondent for the Australian Broadcasting Corporation.  Based in Delhi,  she learned Hindi and travelled all over the country, trying to get to the heart of this huge, complex and endlessly fascinating sub-continent.

She noted at one point that the Indian people are famously direct and this struck such a chord with me,  as I read that particular page of the book on the day that the comment marked * below was uttered. I know that some comments are made due to lack of language facility … but honestly? I really think that others are made out of a wish to know the answer,  coupled with a different cultural approach to asking what we might perceive to be more personal questions. The comments noted here were put to me by both men and woman and I’ve changed or obscured a few of my answers in order to protect the innocent (me).

So here are a few recent examples,  all sent my way over the last ten days:   

“This dress I have in very big size, it will fit even you, Madam”.

“Where is Husband?”   London.

“Why he is not with you in Goa?”  He is working.

“Are you sure you have Husband? Perhaps you are split up, separated, divorced?”

“Why don’t you have children?” [I’ve actually lost count of the number of times I’ve been asked this on my many trips to different parts of India;  trying to keep a tally is like trying to count grains of sand or bicycles in Amsterdam – an impossible and infinite task].

“Children are good and a blessing; you are not a woman without children.  It is a big shame that you are now being too old for children.  I feel much sorrow for your husband.”

“This is a very nice photo of you,  but now you are much fatter.”  *

“Who is teaching you Hindi?  Your accent is very bad.”

“How old are you?

[Answer withheld]

“I am thinking you were maybe very beautiful when you were younger.”

“Every time I am seeing you madam,  you are reading a different book.  Perhaps this is why Husband is not coming to Goa with you, is it – you are reading too much?”

On the plus side,  I use this in my favour to ask my own questions of the woman I meet; I figure what’s sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander.  So I abandon all British sense of privacy and get nosy with the best of ‘em: how old are you,  how many children do you have,  are they boys or girls, do they go to school (and if not, why not?), how old were you when you got married,  what is your husband’s job,  where are you from,  and so on.

I had my first ever yoga lesson in Goa last November and to say it came as something of a shock to my system would be the understatement of the sub-continent.  Whilst I am far from being naturally sporty,  I’d always seen myself as being inherently supple,  due to a childhood ballet regime and,  or so I fondly imagined, being naturally “bendy”.

And then I met Joey, a human yogi-cum-pretzel with an intriguing Swiss-Goan accent,  who exhorted me to “straighten ze foot, not point it” and made me try to put my arms and legs in all manner of unnatural positions,  none of which were even likely to be possible.  After about three minutes,  it was obvious that I wasn’t even remotely bendy (apparently, I have “ze tight hips” – who knew?) and that twenty-odd years of ballet work counted for nothing in the brave new world of yoga. And yet,  in spite of being supremely crap at something which Joey makes look incredibly simple (“crossing ze legs”, for example) I enjoyed my lessons and went back for more as often as I could last year. Joey lives in Switzerland for six months of the year and teaches Iyangar yoga,  and then returns to Goa each November for a further six months, thus cunningly avoiding the Swiss winters.  Whilst here,  he leads an interesting life which sees him teaching yoga by day and being one of northern Goa’s most sought after karaoke kings by night.  Sadly,  I am to karaoke what I am to yoga,  ie dreadful,  but it’s quite good fun and makes a pleasing contrast to the bendy stuff.

Lack of internet access for much of my second week here has resulted in much reading,  including “Yoga School Dropout”,  which I enjoyed hugely.  Lucy Edge had a high flying London based career in advertising, and dabbled in the occasional trendy yoga class,  until burn-out led her to chuck in her job and head to India to see which of the many branches of yoga would allow her to find herself and gain inner peace and harmony.  She spent five months travelling from ashram to ashram, experimenting with different disciplines and encountering a wide range of gurus, fellow travellers, 1” thick Indian mattresses and random men. 

Tantalisingly for me,  on a number of occasions she almost came to Goa and I was keen to read of her experiences here,  but in each case she changed her mind at the last minute and went elsewhere.  However,  even without a Goan flavour,  it’s a great book and neatly tied together a few strands of interest for me: travel writing, India, yoga,  women without gainful employment …!

And, for anyone who does yoga,  it contains perhaps the ultimate yoga joke.

Question:         How many yoga students does it take to change a light bulb?

Answer:           One, but she needs two bricks, three chairs, four bolsters, five blankets and six ropes.

I’m off to Mumbai and then on to Goa again this evening, complete with the usual suitcase full of books, high factor suncream and insect repellant, as seen here.  

The eagle eyed amongst you may observe that yes, “The Far Pavilions” is indeed making a return trip. It went with me in November, it came home with me in December and now we’re off again.  Hopefully, this time I’ll finish it and leave it out there.

And here’s my Maine Coon cat Thomas “helping” with my packing:

Good to know that,  even in India,  all of my clothing will be covered in cat fur.

“Because I am a girl  – I am less likely to go to school.

Because I am a girl – I am more likely to suffer from malnutrition.

Because I am a girl – I am more likely to suffer violence in the home.

Because I am a girl – I am more likely to marry and start a family before I reach my twenties.

Seven authors have visited seven different countries and spoken to young women and girls about their lives, struggles and hopes. The result is an extraordinary collection of writings about prejudice, abuse, and neglect, but also about courage, resilience and changing attitudes. Proceeds from sales of this book will go to PLAN, one of the world’s largest child-centered community development organisations.”

And last week I attended the very moving launch of the “Because I Am A Girl” book at Waterstones in Piccadilly. I bought four copies and have since read my own copy twice.  From my time in corporate life,  I know how powerful story telling can be as a way to get a message across; this collection of stories (which are both fiction and non-fiction) is part of Plan’s campaign to raise awareness and break the cycle of poverty which so impacts women,  by educating girls and investing in women.  As Marie Staunton,  Plan’s Chief Executive, said at the launch event:

“Girls are often invisible in the developing world – and because they’re not valued, they don’t feel valued.  They’re less likely to go to school than boys, more likely to experience violence, poverty and sexual abuse …”

The stories are set in Togo, Sierra Leone, the Dominican Republic, Brazil, Ghana, Uganda and Cambodia and the book features contributions from renowned authors such as Kathy Lette, Deborah Moggach (who were both at the launch, and who signed my copies of the book), Irvine Welsh and Joanne Harris.  As well as Marie’s very moving descriptions of Plan’s work,  we were also able to hear Kathy and Deborah reading extracts from their stories. Actors and Plan supporters Larry Lamb (who had just returned to the UK from a week in Senegal for Plan; the next evening I saw him on TV at the National Television Awards … talk about a diverse life …) and Joanne Froggatt read from the stories set in Togo and Santa Domingo in the DR.

Here’s an extract from Kathy Lette’s story about her trip to Brazil:

“I wanted to tell the story of one girl. But all the girls I met – Maria, Jeanine, Rosana, Lorena, Amanda, Marina, Cintia, Melissa, Nataly, Teresa, Ana and Johanna – had the same sad tale. It’s a story of child prostitution, teenage pregnancy, HIV, no contraception, illegal back-street abortion, sex tourism, single mothers, macho men, irresponsible, absentee fathers and domestic violence.”  

The book also features, as the other non-fiction contribution, a very damning piece from Marie Phillips (author of “Gods Behaving Badly”,  a really wonderful novel) based on her visit to Uganda and her shock at how the responsibility for sexual abuse is placed on girls and not their attackers. I think this was a brave stance for Plan to take,  in terms of including it in the anthology; I’m sure it would have been easier to leave it out,  or ask Marie to re-visit her article and change the focus.  Instead,  it is included,  as is a piece from Plan’s Uganda Country Manager, explaining why Plan takes the stance that they do and what impact this having for girls in the country to date.

At the end of the readings,  we had an opportunity to ask questions and an audience member asked Marie Staunton how she would spend £10,000 and make a difference. Looking a little taken aback,  she immediately passed the question over to two of her team,  the Plan Country Managers for India and Uganda,  who both replied that they would like to spend such money on extra, separate toilet facilities for schools,  as the lack of toilets is often an issue for girls,  especially when menstruating; the Uganda manager also told us that many schools in her country are boarding schools in remote rural areas and so she would like more money to spend on bicycles to make it easier for girls to actually get to the schools or home to visit their families.

Publishers Random House are donating all of the book’s profits to Plan – so please,  buy a copy today (Amazon have it at a substantial discount,  and it’s also currently included in Waterstones “3 for 2″ promotion).  Together, we can make a difference to girls around the world.

Today is Renuka’s ninth birthday; she is the little girl I sponsor at El Shaddai’s Rainbow House, a residential home for girls in northern Goa, India. I sent Renuka a letter, birthday card and small gift a few weeks ago and it occurred to me this morning that she is likely, I hope, to be having a very different birthday experience this year compared to last year, because this January will be the first of her life in which she has had a permanent home, an education and three meals a day.

Renuka has only been living at Rainbow House since May 2009; prior to that, she and her mother and brother (her father, an alcoholic, left them some years ago, re-married and does not provide for them financially) were living rough in a roadside shack, having arrived in Goa in 2004 as economic migrants from the neighbouring Indian state of Karnataka. An El Shaddai outreach worker met them and encouraged Renuka’s mother to come to one of the charity’s night shelters, which provide a safe place to sleep and a hot meal to those who need it. After a few weeks, Renuka’s mother was offered a cleaning job and accommodation (worth about £40 a month) at a hotel – but there was no room or capacity for Renuka, only her brother (this part of her story really upsets me and makes me think many thoughts as to the feelings of emotional rejection and abandonment that this must have caused in an eight year old child – not to mention how symptomatic it is of gender inequity in India, where sons are valued over and above daughters).

Fortunately, Renuka was offered a place at Rainbow House, El Shaddai’s residential home for 51 girls aged 8 to 13 and now enjoys, in their words: “… love and care along with nourishing food, and a good education”.

Upon arrival, she had only the clothes she was wearing at the time and was issued with her uniform of a school skirt, two Rainbow House polo shirts and some underwear – these remained her only clothing until I visited her six months later and provided her with the dress she’s wearing in the photo and a few other t-shirts – hence the huge grin, I suppose (or perhaps that was at the thought of the chocolate bar!). The girls sleep in dormitories with bunk beds and attend a private school, also run by the charity, in the next village. This is called the “Shanti Niketan”, meaning “Non Formal School” and the classes are organised according to ability rather than age. Stella, the manager of Rainbow House, told me that Renuka wants to be a doctor when she grows up; the scale of this ambition impressed me hugely. I don’t even know if it’s possible in terms of cost and education – but I hope that my sponsorship of Renuka at least makes her feel loved and cared for a little bit.

I visited her about six times when I was in Goa before Christmas and she became a little less shy with me each time. Several of the girls have sponsors and they are fiercely competitive with each other about this. Stella told me that Renuka, as one of the youngest and newest arrivals at the home, had previously felt very left out when other girls received letters, cards, gifts and visits, so she (Stella) was very relieved when I arrived in order to make a fuss of this little girl. Renuka speaks three Indian languages and is learning English, so our interactions were by necessity limited to the bits of English which she did know and an awful lot of hand gestures, plus miming, drawing in the dirt with a stick and improvising. But we played noughts and crosses, drew pictures, looked at photographs and she showed me some of her traditional Indian dance steps, as she is a member of the school’s dancing troupe (I envisage this as being nothing like an Indian dancing version of “Glee” – ahem).  However, I am slowly learning a little Hindi and I hope that a combination of feeling more familiar with each other and our respective increased vocabularies will make our next visits (in February) a bit easier.

Watch this space. I’m also a bit more clued up as to what to take as gifts for both Renuka and the other children; it was much easier to shop for her this time around, as I have a rough idea of her size (far smaller than an English nine year old would be), her likes and dislikes and of the limitations of her home environment. This time, I’m taking her a dress and some underwear from my wonderful mum, who I imagine had great fun choosing Renuka a little cotton dress (we only have nephews/grandsons in our immediate family, so shopping for girls is quite the novelty) and I bought t-shirts from Old Navy when I was in the US before Christmas. Prompted by a game that the children and I played with two balloons representing the Sun and the Earth, where we talked about time differences and different countries (“when it’s dark in India, it’s daytime in England …”) I’ve also bought an inflatable globe as I thought that it might be fun to look at a map of the world and talk about different countries, especially as the El Shaddai sponsors are based all over the world.

Plus of course I had a whale of a time with a very helpful sales assistant in Waterstones, who spent about an hour with me a few weeks ago, helping me pick out suitable books. My criteria was quite defined, which made it harder and hence made me grateful for the continuing High Street presence of a bookstore: written at a suitable level of English, not too many Caucasian images in the illustrations, no mentions of stuff to which she could never relate (which cut out tons of American books, with their mentions of  “sleep-overs” and the like), no branded books like “Hannah Montana” and “High School Musical”, nothing pink and stereotyped … but we got there in the end, so thank you, Rachel in Waterstones, you’re a star. I go back to Goa on 31st January, so I hope to return to Rainbow House in early February – I’m really looking forward to it.

Sponsoring Renuka is one of the most significant things I feel I’ve ever done. It’s only £15 per month but it makes such a difference to Renuka, to children like her and to El Shaddai’s cash flow.

Happy birthday!