constanttrek

Last one on the old site

Long time no write!  It has all been happening - so much so that I have barely known where to begin.

First of all, I have the rest of the funding I need - just as well, since I have had a last minute budget blowout of horrid proportions.  Birkenstock shoes, makers of awesomely comfortable sandals, have agreed to fund me.  Marcel, the head of Birkenstock Australia, met with me last Friday.  He is modifying a couple of pairs of Birkenstocks specially for the walk, tailoring them for the conditions and my feet.  It was absolutely brilliant to be talking with someone who understands feet - Marcel is an orthopoedic technician - and to feel that I will have shoes to rely on this stretch, so that I don't wind up with the aches and pains of last time.

Shortly after I heard from Marcel, I talked with Habib in Morocco, and we both worked out that due to some new restrictions on baggage and visas, we would have to drive down to Mauritania from Morocco - a long drive and an expensive process.  This bumped my costs up by several thousand euro, and as I had already begun buying the electronic communications equipment I need for the next leg, I was suddenly in trouble once again.  Back I went to Dove, with a new proposal based on working with the company after I finish the desert leg of the walk.  To my utter shock, disbelief, and tremendous gratitude, they came back almost immediately with a "yes".

I think even the camels in the Sahara heard me scream with relief and excitement when I got that particular email.

So, for the first time since I began this walk, I have the finance to kit up the expedition as I need to.  I will have absolutely nothing left to fall back on, but at least the equipment and running costs are actually covered in advance.  After the last few months of diabolical worry and panic, this is more of a relief than I can possibly explain.

In addition, after I was on radio here a week or so ago, I received an email from a bloke by the name of Tom, based here in Melbourne.  Tom runs a very cool website called www.feedtherat.com; this will shortly be featured on my main page.  But for any adventure junkies out there, I suggest you have a look.  He also runs the Lactic Factory, a hideaway off Punt Road in Melbourne, that has a quite amazing Rock Climbing wall, and a coterie of dedicated climbers and expeditioners lurking in its corners.  Tom himself has spent his life doing expeditions and working in the great outdoors, and thus was a wonderful person for me to meet.  He in turn put me in touch with Graeme Joy, one of life's really amazing achievers.  Graeme has led over twenty expeditions world wide, including mountaineering, Arctic, and sea kayaking  expeditions.  He is now an in demand corporate speaker and expedition leader, and the best possible bloke I could have imagined meeting.  He has been absolutely brilliant, assisting me with advice on everything from logistics to finance.  More than anything, it has been just awesome to speak to someone with extensive experience in expeditioning - someone who understands the planning, frustrations, and actual experience of the whole process.  At times it can be terribly isolating organising something like this, particularly when there are those who view it as little more than a holiday, and wonder why I think anyone would actually sponsor me to do it.  But I have learned so very much through this entire process, and changed  so much as a result, that despite the challenges, I feel more prepared  and enthusiastic about the coming leg than I have for any of the other parts.

Perhaps at the beginning, Gary and I set off with a dream, and, whilst we thought we had planned, little real organisation (but a bucket load of determination).  Then, on the first part of the desert trek, it was difficult to know exactly what or how to plan for everything; and it was certainly a massive learning curve, on every possible level.  This time around, I feel that I know exactly what I am heading into, and for the first time I feel totally determined to be 100% organised and structured; this time it is a proper expedition, and the more I have had to define it for others (such as sponsors) the more it has helped me be totally disciplined and structured in myself. 

As such, I have set myself up with an RBGAN unit - this is a remote broadband satellite connection, which means I can log on to the net anywhere in the desert, depending on the solar equipment being reliable.  My main reason for this is that it negates the need to enter the larger towns - something that cost me a huge amount of money and trauma on the last leg.  I had determined, after the endless hassle of contraband vehicles, hitchiking, and big town hassle, that my supplies would come solely from villages on the next leg, and that either that meant an RBGAN connection, or simply not updating the site or being in email contact.  There was no way I was leaving myself open once again to the logistical nightmares that occurred last time on a monthly basis, where we would have to find a way to towns - and then out again.  I want to be able to focus on, and enjoy, the process of walking, and minimise the risks associated with larger towns.

I have also finally caught up with the digital recording equipment I need to take some footage with an eye to a documentary at the end of the walk.  I have always wanted to do this, but have had trouble both discovering what to buy, and affording it.

One thing I am very grateful for is that I have spent the last few years doing constant research on the best way to kit the expedition out, based on the experiences I have had and my understanding of the logistics involved.  What this has meant is that when the funding finally turned up, I was ready to simply go and buy the stuff - I knew exactly what I needed.  It has justified for me the many hours spent in front of the internet, talking with techies and learning about watts, amps, and voltage, gigabytes and megabytes, satellite connections and high definition digital video, fold up solar panels and quality audio.  I have discovered a whole world of technical stuff that I always put into the too hard basket, hoping, I guess, that Gary would deal with it.  Taking control of that side of things has been really empowering.  It also means I can actually have a conversation with my brother in law and not feel a total imbecile.  This may be the greatest accomplishment of all!

Actually, the whole process of learning how to really set up an expedition, rather than setting off on a whim with a dream, has been a fantastic experience.  It is as if all the years of slog and research have begun to pay off; I don't know at what point I realised that I was actually capable of doing all of this, but I do know that it has been an awesome discovery, and given me no end of confidence in my ability to succeed.  On Graeme's advice, I set success criteria for this stage of the expedition, and whilst I always used to hate that kind of corporate speak, I have found it a tremendously useful and constructive thing to do this time.  For the first time in my life, I have found that a lot of the stuff I always hated doing, has suddenly become interesting and absorbing - perhaps because I have a reason to apply it, and can see the benefits. 

The site is about to undergo a transformation.  A unique and very generous individual who shall remain known as cyberhobo , has taken over the running of constanttrek.com, and I hope you like what he has done with it.  I certainly do. 

Neil, Gary's brother, has patiently and without thought of payment, designed, administrated, and managed the site since before we began walking until now.  He has done a brilliant job, and Gary and I are both very grateful to him for his ongoing support and patience with what has not always been an easy job.  His time with the site may be at an end (stop cracking the champagne Neil) but my gratitude for his time and energy knows no bounds. 

I am now down to the final two weeks before shipping out.  It is utterly manic - I am actually planning every minute of every day, something I have never been any good at.  I thought it was mad before I left England the first time - trust me, this is far, far worse, not least because I am trying to work out the practical realities of carting three camel's worth of baggage from Australia to England, then down to Morocco.  My Dad is very kindly flying to Casablanca with me, to share some of the baggage load, and keep an eye on things whilst I sort out the visa stuff; Habib will meet me there and together we will drive down to mauritania to get the camels, guide, etc.  I had to stop panicking about timing, since there is little I can do beyond move as fast as I can once I start walking.

In the meantime I have been able to catch up with everyone including my gorgeous sister Lisa and her wonderful family, including above-mentioned brother in law Wes, and the beautiful Kate and Emma.  Little girls when I left Australia, they are now well and truly teenagers, and quite remarkably lovely ones at that!  The drive up to their place in Wodonga is a real joy - especially as I had to go via my good old home town of Mansfield in order to buy the world's best swag from the Snowy Mountain rug company.  I had forgotten how totally amazing the mountain country that I grew up in really is - I felt the tears well up as I drove over the hill and saw the big peaks rise up, still with white patches even though the ski season has been the most woeful in thirty years.  I cut a few laps around the town and checked out the never-changing blokes with chest length beards and battered Akubras, and thought how lucky I am to have called such a beautiful place home for so many years.

I have adored being back in Australia.  It is funny how with the passing of years, the memory of home fades, until all one can remember is the bad politics and drinking too much good wine.  I had forgotten the incredible friendliness of Australians, and the ease of friendship here.  The way that women are feisty and funny, dominating the airwaves and giving it straight back to the men.  I have marvelled all over again at the truly awesome food, the way that it is simply impossible to buy a bad meal, or drink ordinary wine, and the fact that it is always presented beautifully by friendly staff.  There are cafes and restuarants on every corner, and they are all charming and unpretentious, and blissfully affordable.

But it is more than all of those things.  There is a light in the Australian sky that is totally unique; a kind of wild changeability that gives a sense of freedom that I have experienced nowhere else.  Driving out on the highway, the huge eucalypts twist in paddocks, and the horizon stretches into infinity, the thick purple clouds of winter rolling across the sky chased by a brilliant sun - one second a violent storm flurry, followed in the next by a steamingly bright dazzle.  The smells are so typically Australian, the soft wattles and sharp eucalypts, soft moist earth and something harder, some indefinable smell that is just for me the scent of home.  I stopped by the roadside not far from Mansfield and sat on the bonnet a while, just breathing it in and thinking of how much I have missed, and how glad it is to finally be home.  In a strange way it has given me the strength and energy to return to my walk with a renewed passion.

And that is another thing - I had forgotten the endless enthusiasm of people here.  Nobody is trying to be cool, or critical; instead they happily call me up out of the blue, wiht offers of assistance or just for a beer, people I don't know and would never have met but who love the idea of the walk, and want to be involved.  They are generous and interesting and passionate, and whilst I agree that Australians are the most laid back people on earth, I reckon they are also the most practical and innovative folk as well.  No idea is too big, and their lust for adventure is huge; they can see possibilities, and like to make them happen.  It is not suprising to me at all that it has been the Australian divisions of Dove and Birkenstock who have made this happen - they have that Australian ability to be excited, and the belief that anything is possible.

I am fostering dreams of walking across Australia one day.  Being back here has made me think of how wonderful it would be to really walk my own country.  But maybe I had better finish this one first!

Go and have a look at feed the rat, Tom's site, and get into the whole ratty philosophy.  I am loving what these guys are into, and the whole passion they bring to life - it is the only way to live.  I will hopefully upload another entry before I bail to the UK.  Oh, and if anyone is around in Melbourne this Thursday, come down to the Birkenstock store in Collins street - I think there is a bit of a launch thingy happening.

And to all the UK crew - can't wait to have a beer in a couple of weeks!  I will pack some decent Aussie red into the already vastly oversized baggage, and look forward to being with you all again.

Big lurrrrrve Miss Jo, and Steph and the whole Bromley Road crew, can't wait to give you all a big hug.

Radio today

After a long break, this is a very quick one, with the promise of a longer update shortly.  I flew to Sydney last week to meet with the people at Dove and the National Breast Cancer Foundation, and had a wonderful time!  The Dove girls were great, extremely supportive about the walk, and really understanding of where I am coming from and what I am doing.  The National breast Cancer Foundation were brilliant and extremely supportive also.  On the 7th of October, the NBCF is holding a walk in Sydney to raise money for the Breast Cancer Research - Dove is sponsoring the walk.  I am staying in Australia until then so that I can be a part of the walk, and hopefully encourage others to join in, through some media appearances before it happens.  Today I will be on the Jon Faine show on ABC radio at 11 am, along with Jamie and Ben, two English guys who have been cycling for 18 months from England.  I am looking forward to it - at least I won't have the same killer nerves I did last time I was on radio!

I have been organising myself stupid over the last short while, ticking off the seemingly endless list of tasks I need to in order to make sure the next leg goes smoothly.  I realised how much I have learned from the previous leg; I am absolutely dogmatic about getting everything exactly as I want, before I leave.  This next stretch is going to be tough - really tough - and I need to be as prepared as possible.  That includes training in different types of sandals, since the local footwear I used last time didn't support my feet well.  Over six weeks that would be ok; over six months, it can spell trouble.  At the moment I am trialling Birkenstocks - apart from breaking in blisters, they seem to be good for my feet.  Then again, it takes about 500km before I really know if they'll work...

I am a long way behind schedule now, but there has been little option.  My goal was to be walking by the end of August, so that I could do the easy part of the walk in the heat, and use the winter to walk through Mali, Niger, and into Chad.  But as it stands now I will have to walk longer distances more often to cover the kind of ground I need to; even though I deliberately took it very slowly on the last leg, I still was aware that it is harder covering long distances with camels and a camp to look after than it was with the packs.  Still, I am utterly determined that discipline and determination will get me through the next leg, and push me through the barriers to walk harder than I have before.  Having Dove behind me has helped hugely - I guess that in some ways I feel validated in my endeavours.

When I was in Sydney, I was interviewed for the new Dove magazine - it's called the Real Beauty magazine.  I have to say that I thought it was awesome.  It has only just come out, and to my knowledge, it is only available in Australia at the moment - but it is just fantastic, full of interesting women with great stories, really down to earth, and not one anorexic pop tart in view.  I feel very fortunate to be aligned with a brand that I respect as much as I do Dove - the more I find out, the more fascinated I am.  They are running a program in schools, called "Body think" in Australia and known by other names overseas, where educators go into classrooms and talk to kids about body image and how the media affects the way we see ourselves.  It is a whole workshop aimed at raising kids' self esteem and awareness about the manipulations performed on the majority of digital photographs in the media.  As an ex-teacher, I find all this stuff fascinating, and believe there are few things more relevent in an age of media bombardment of women with unrealistic body shapes.

So all in all, I am becoming very excited about the next part of my walk, and the possibilities I see coming from it.  Habib will be coming down to Mauritania with me to buy the camels and help set me up with my new guide, and then I will be off, on the contraband route to Timbuctou!  I fly back to the UK on the 10th of October, and out to the desert on the 15th.  I just can't wait.  I will write more at a later date - let you know all the ins and outs of the organisation process!  (Fascinating stuff, Paula, truly...)

Cheers.

FUNDING!!!

Well...it finally happened!  Dove Australia, my first choice of sponsor and yet the one I was so sure I would never manage to get - have come through like champions, and are funding the next leg of the walk.

I am still pinching myself.

They are donating half of what I asked for - but enough to get me back on the road, buy my camels, and keep walking.  I am thrilled beyond belief, and still struggling to accept that it has actually happened.   This photo was taken by Blush photography and used in the proposal - I want to mention the folk at Blush in Toorak, Melbourne, as they were enormously helpful and extremely supportive.

I honestly can't write a whole lot tonight, as suddenly my head is totally spinning - and I am also thinking about the squillion things I need to organise before I get back out there!  I have less than a month, and until now, I think I have superstitiously been avoiding dealing with the practicalities in case the money didn't turn up.

But now it has.  I cannot describe the feeling - after so long of wondering if this would ever come together, this has been an almost surreal experience. 

I was due to announce the winners of my raffle on the site tomorrow.  But I am going to keep it up there for a couple more weeks - I am trying to raise enough money to buy a digital camcorder to record the rest of the walk, with an eye to making a documentary, and also to upload podcasts as I go.  So all proceeds from the raffle will go towards that end.

For all of you that have supported me, believed in me and the walk, and sent messages of encouragement through the last few months - thankyou.  I will pay you all back with huge blogs when I am back in the road, one month from now.

A huge big cheers.  I am going to crack the bubbly!!!

A bit of grovelling

I have tended to use this blog as a fairly personal, non-serious place.  The readership figures, whilst steady, have never been stratospheric; and of those who do log on, the preference has tended to be for lighthearted updates rather than the more serious side of life.  I do occasionally descend into morbidity, and I guess this tendency has been slightly exacerbated these past few months by the varied pressures inherent in surviving a marriage break-up in the middle of the desert and total isolation; trying extremely hard to maintain my focus and belief in my walk whilst totally broke; attempting to forge a career as a freelance writer; and raise both publicity and funds for the walk so that I have a chance to succeed at all the things I set out too.  And at times, those combined factors have resulted in me being both overly flippant, and less than completely straight.

So the email I received today gave me a timely reminder that everything one writes is most certainly read, and also that I should at times learn to pull my head in.  Some months ago, about the time I had just finished walking, and was unsure whether or not I would be able to continue straight away (which at the time looked like a distinct possibility)  I fired off a post regarding the seemingly endless round of freelance submissions I was sending off.  Expecting, as I was, to find a ready audience in the Australian media (oh, Paula, the arrogance of you at times) I was both disappointed and disillusioned when my barrage of emails and submissions fell on totally deaf ears.  By comparison, the English media, whilst not exactly queuing up to buy work, did at least respond promptly and, on a couple of extremely memorable occasions, actually commission work.  Hence I fired off a rather snide comment about an Australian travel editor by the name of Jane Reddy.

Today, I received a response that, whilst I guess I had always half expected, had me both burning red in the face and feeling utterly ashamed of my cavalier and immature behaviour.  There are times for flippancy, and I guess that wasn't one of them.

I include her email below:

Dear Paula,

I note the following entry on your website.

"I am sure that is what happens when editors are really well paid - they have the time to tell you your stuff is crap in a polite fashion rather than just not answering, like the lovely Australian ones (yes, Jane Reddy, that would be you, honey.). "

Indeed I haven't yet. But let's be clear about a couple of things regarding your submission.

Your mother rang me on a number of occasions. I DID return her call and we spoke, at length, about the type of trip you had done and your frustrations about not being able to get a response from editors. I assured her that we would look at your stories.

But please understand, Travel receives many submissions each week and, yes, it is often months before freelances get a response.

There are ways to communicate regarding your stories. I would not consider inaccurate comments on your website to be one of them.

Jane

Jane Reddy

Deputy Editor, Travel

The Age, 250 Spencer St Melbourne 3000

Now, I include this because it was a really timely reminder to me of a few things.

The first is that nothing critical ever goes undetected; I think I knew this deep down, and was looking for a response, which I most certainly got.  Can't imagine ever getting published by The Age after that little effort.

Another, and perhaps more important, is that chucking one's toys really doesn't get you anywhere. 

But the final is one that has been creeping up on me for a while regarding this site and all that I write, and prehaps, this is what I really want to say.

From the beginning of my blogging days, I have tortured myself frequently over how exactly to treat this space.  Is it written with potential sponsors in mind?  With newspaper editors?  For my family and friends?  For fellow adventurers?  How much should I share, and how much to keep to myself?  Do I hold the best parts back for my next book, or write it all here?

I have tried to strike a balance, and I think that for the first part of the walk I managed that ok.

But the desert brought a whole stack of new challenges and difficulties, and I struggled like hell to work out what to write without worrying everyone, embarassing others, or giving away personal issues I felt uncomfortable about.  Then, since I have been back, I have been too scared to really write about how worried I have been, in case those reading would simply lose interest and write me off as another dreamer who failed at the first hurdle.

And I have had enough.  I have wanted to write on this blog so often, but have simply felt uneasy about baring myself, or airing my dirty laundry.  But I am less than two months out from the date that I set myself to start walking, and remain as determined as I have ever been to do exactly that, despite all that has happened over the last few months.  And unless I find some funds soon, there will be no trans-desert walk to write the second book about - although there is more than enough to fill an encyclopedia already!  Finally, over the weekend I met up with a very dear friend of mine, who I spent hours telling about the journey I have been on over the last twelve months.  She is an avid reader of the site, but told me that none of what I told her came through on the website; not suprising when I tried so hard to keep a lid on stuff.

So, whilst I have no intention of going on ad-nauseum about the past, and whilst I still wish to keep a lot for a time when I can write it in detail and context in my own book, I think I do need to put the record straight on a few things.

The first is regarding Gary.  All I have to say on this topic is that Gary left the walk after one month in the desert, for many reasons.  Some of these concerned his own goals and ambitions, which he no longer felt were being served by the walk; obviously, the other issue stemmed from the fact that we had been having personal problems, which we both felt we could no longer deal with in the desert environment.  Leaving was one of the hardest decisions that Gary has ever made, and one of the toughest experiences I have ever gone through.  For the following months we both hoped we would find a way through our problems, but unfortunately, and incredibly sadly for us both, we feel that is no longer possible.

I have no desire to share anything more about my personal situation except to say that our mutual love and respect remains undiminished, and that Gary remains a complete supporter of my walk, and I of the path he has taken.  Perhaps Gary will tell his own story one day, and when he does, I know it will be touching, gripping, and wonderful. 

Gary leaving obviously made my walk and the desert a very much more challenging environment than it had been.  I was isolated both emotionally and physically, and had to walk for the next few months without being able to talk to anyone about my marriage or fears.  It was tough, at times so tough I though I would lose my mind, but it was also the most empowering and incredible experience I have ever been through.  More than anything, it taught me that I have the determination, knowledge, and guts to get through this walk; and I realised that I was truly doing what I am meant to, and felt more determined than ever to succeed.

Returning to the UK was a dispiriting experience.  Although it was wonderful to be back with friends and family, I spent day after day on the telephone and computer, trying to get publicity, funding, and sell work.  On top of this my mother, after suffering Breast Cancer last year, became very ill with Menieres disease and was often bedridden, at home and without support, back in Australia.  I felt totally torn, and just wanted to be with her; yet she continued to insist that she could manage.  After she had a particularly bad turn, I made the choice to fly back here - a decision I am very glad I took.

I was more than prepared to teach to keep myself going, but unfortunately it took until the day before I left the UK for my criminal check to come through.  Had it been through straight away, I could have earned enough to get myself back on the road in September, funding or no funding.  As it was I had little choice other than to try to sell articles and take what part time work I could find to keep myself fed.  I am absolutely indebted, as I have often written, to my many friends in London who so generously granted me a place to sleep and who more often than not fed me to boot. 

For the past few weeks I have been working very hard toward attracting funding, and a corporate partnersip with, Dove cosmetics.  I write this now because whilst I am often flippant on this site (as previously stated over and over, get with it Paula) I have written nothing about why I have approached this company, nor why I believe so strongly in working with them.  I do so now because I feel very strongly about the company and my proposal to them, and want to challenge the perception that I may have unwittingly given that I am just chasing funding willy nilly.

When I was walking out of London two years ago, I passed the first billboards which Dove had launched as part of their Campaign for Real Beauty.  As I was staggering up the road, feeling overweight, self conscious, and very uncertain as to whether I would ever make it further than Greenwich, these gorgeous, curvy, smiling women looked down at me from lifesize underwear clad glory, and gave me a weird hope and inspiration that anything really is possible; that there is more to life than being a size 10, make up slathered professional in a hatchback - or at least there can be, if you desire it (please don't write in slating me, all you gorgeous size 10's in hatchbacks with wonderful jobs.  Think you're marvellous too.  It just wasn't for me, that's all).  Throughout my walk, I kept coming across these billboards, and every time I did, they reminded me that I was on the right path, that true beauty comes from achieving in what you truly value, that success is something one defines for oneself rather than some esoteric formula dictated by a woman's magazine.  Even down into the desert, Dove products were available everywhere, and somehow when I saw women in nomadic tents using them,it felt as if there was yet another synthesis between Dove and the walk.  I used the products myself, slathering myself in them morning and night; in some odd way, when I was really down, they reminded me of why I was doing this, of all the years when I was too scared to set out, worrying I would never make it.

It took me months after my return to pluck up the courage to actually phone Dove.  I kept making excuses: I'm no good on the phone, They'll never want me, I'm the wrong size to model anything, What's the point anyway - they'll only knock me back.....the list goes on.

I finally contacted them a couple of weeks ago.  I haven't had a response yet - but in a wonderful coincidence, Dove Australia have just signed a contract with the National Breast Cancer Foundation to support the foundation in their fundraising walk in Sydney later this year.  I told them I was more than happy to fly over from the desert and walk with them - I will never forget the support my Mum was given by the Foundation when she was going through chemotherapy and other treatment.

I write all of this because I am sick of not writing.  I want to just be straight about exactly where I am at, without worrying about who is reading this, or what they think.  More than anything I want to be back walking by the end of September.  I am doing everything I possibly can to achieve that.  If it is not possible (I try not to think about this) I will simply teach for a couple of months, and return to the desert around Christmas.  Either way, I have no intention of giving up; I know that this walk is where I am supposed to be, and what I want to do.  Gary and I worked and saved for five years to make it happen this far; we even remortgaged, then sold, our house.  Now I simply can't find money from anywhere else, and I have felt strongly that after having walked so far, and proved myself through some of the hardest conditions I could imagine, that I should surely find someone willing to fund the walk.  But if I don't - I will make the money myself, eventually.  I just want, so much, to be able to continue.

The email I received from Jane Reddy was a good reminder of the traps it is easy to fall into; taking frustration out on other people is an old fault of mine, and one I have never been proud of.  It sure got me unstuck this time - and serves me right, too!

I hope that for those of you who have wondered what the hell is going on, that this posting clears up some of the issues.  I also would ask that you respect the privacy of both Gary and myself by not pushing for further details; anyone who has ever gone through a marriage break up will understand how sad it is for all involved, and I am especially conscious of the fact that this blog is written by me, thus leaving Gary without a voice - I have no wish to be disrespectful of someone whom I hold in the highest possible esteem.

I hope also that perhaps this gives you some further insight into where I am really at with everything, and hope you still buy the second book when it comes out!  (Yeah, good one Paula, get the first one published first, huh?)

Thanks for listening, and best to all of you.

Australia!

In a small matter of two months, I will be back there - doing exactly as I am in the photo.  For two and a half thousand kilometres, the first leg of the next stretch runs from just south of Boujdor, where I left off, down to Atar in Mauritania and then a dramatic run through a contraband route to Neima; and finally across into Timbuktou.  Every time I think about being back, I get the excited shivers; especially when I consider that it may be possible to walk some of it without a guide.  Truly alone in the desert!  If all goes to plan, I shall definitely be doing at least some of it completely solo.

But right now I have taken another scenic detour, and one hell of a long flight, and found myself back in my home country for the first time in quite a while.  Melbourne in the middle of winter is something of a stark contrast to the heatwave in London I left behind; somewhat ironic, I dare think, that I should have left the hot weather in a country definitely not known for it.  Nonetheless, weather beside, it is heaven to be back with my Mum again.  She has been terribly sick this year, and right now is rather in need of a bit of care, and I am very grateful I am able to be here and with her.  Although I am not so sure that sitting up all night talking her head off is necessarily the best cure, it certainly feels good to me!

Being back here gives me a chance to speak to the various Australian partners involved in the walk - the National Breast Cancer Foundation, who have been marvellously supportive of both the walk and my Mum during her illness; Dove, with whom I hope to partner my walk from here on; and the Australian media in general, who are infinitely more approachable than their British counterparts. 

Dove has been my choice of corporate partner from the beginning, as even deep into the desert, I could still manage to find their stuff in shops.  Can't begin to explain how much a good moisturiser starts to mean when your face is dry and tight after a few months in the sun, even when you are a feral walker like my good self. Just for reference, I actually haven't got anything from the company yet, so this is not a paid plug!  (Thought it couldn't hurt, though, eh?)

I speak to friends back in Morocco and shiver in horror at the thought of the summer heat, currently topping some 50 degrees; but at the same time, I just can't wait to be back there.  A thousand thankyous to all the people who have donated to the site and have subsequently been entered in the raffle; I didn't expect such a great response, and with every entry, I am one step closer to going, sponsor or no sponsor.  Quite frankly, nothing but a tram would stop me anyway - I prefer to look at funding as a minor rather than major obstacle.  I have not walked 7,500km to stop now - not when I have the best part of the desert in front of me, and the chance to walk with the salt route caravans, through some of the most dramatic country in the world.  Oh, okay, I know I will get back and start moaning about sandstorms, grumpy camels, and severe alcohol shortages, but at the moment I cannot think of anything more wonderful than waking up and just walking again.  I get so frustrated sitting down all day on the computer that I have taken to having long and brisk walks nearly every day; it is kind of fun doing it back here in Melbourne, as around every corner it seems, there is yet another fabulous coffee shop.  I had forgotten what a gourmet paradise this city is - and cheap to enjoy, too.  I have been indulging in truly magnificent coffee rather too often, which may explain the frenetic walking.  Permanent caffeine buzz.  I can't help it - I left my desert tea set back in London, and I have to drink something to replace my addiction. 

Well, this is just a quick one to keep you all posted, and to say thanks again for those of you who have donated to the raffle.  Just in case you missed the last post, a box of aloe vera products has been donated to the walk, and is subsequently being auctioned off on this site - see the post below for details.  I shall write again soon and let you know when I am setting off.  (I just keep on using the "when" word, rather than the "if").

Big smile to you all from coffee heaven...

get a load of this

A very fabulous little company called Forever Living produces some of the best Aloe Vera stuff on the market. I tell you this not because I have turned into a mad marketing queen or horrendous pyramid seller (I can't believe those things still exist) but because out of the kindness of their little hearts, this company donated a shed load of their stuff to me in support of my walk. So I had a little idea. Since I am never going to use a year's supply of sunscreen, moisturiser, lip balm, shampoo and drinking aloe - no matter how great I may think it is - I am instead going to hold a little raffle on this site. The extremely fortunate (Oh, come on, I have to pump it up) individual who wins this box will also receive a signed advance copy of my book, "Slow Journey South"; and (whether or not you have ANY interest in this, I don't know) a melekhva that I brought back from the desert. Basically, this is simple. Every person who donates £5 or over is automatically entered in the draw, and the results will be announced HERE on the 25th of August, just before I return to the desert, and the winner contacted by email.

Half of the proceeds will go to paying for the walk, and the other half will be donated to Breakthrough and the NBCF. If I manage to get full sponsorship before then, all proceeds will be to charity - but at this stage I am still struggling to get the money together to walk, so I hope that this will help me to continue. At the risk of now sounding like the very pyramid sellers I have just taken the mickey out of above, if all of you told a friend who told a friend....well, you get the picture. You can donate using the button on this page to the left. It is actually pretty good stuff (ok, I exempt my book from that, which you have every right to think utter crap should you choose) and given that any one of the products cost ten quid or over in a shop, it is actually a pretty good deal. I will send it to you wherever you are - Transylvania, Oregon or, God forbid, Milton Keynes. Since I get an awful lot of emails from people who are obviously reading this blog on a boring Monday at work in order to relieve the tedium and get a laugh out of someone doing something rather insane, you can feel free to con your boss into donating a whole lot more than a fiver. Especially if you work for Richard Branson. Actually, if you do work for him, give him my number, would you? The same goes for Bill Gates...Prince Charles... (okay that is scraping the barrel a bit) or any other suitably solvent individual who fancies sponsoring a lone woman about to walk five thousand kilometres across the Sahara. I can dream, huh?

I have been having a pretty interesting time of it really. I got all of the maps last week, and began to trace my route through - the next part by all accounts is absolutely beautiful, cutting down into the top of Mauritania and across into Mali. I was originally going to walk all the way down to Nouakchott, but have since been told of yet another contraband route that apparantly is quite glorious, with good wells and grazing. After I reach Timbuctou in Mali, I can begin walking with the salt trade caravans, which has been a long held dream. I shall have to pick up my pace a bit, since those guys walk huge distances daily. After Mali I am heading into Niger and Chad, following the Niger river for a long distance, then up into Libya and into Egypt. I have always wanted to go to Libya - the archeological sights there are amongst some of the most staggering in the world, I believe, and it is also going through such an extraordinary process of change, opening up to tourism and trade, that it seems a fascinating place to be. Although I wanted to walk my original route, the situation in Sudan is just too precarious at the moment; which gives me a great excuse to see both Libya and Egypt!

I have had a lot of help and support in planning the next leg, and even though I am still to raise the funds I need, I am heading back in September as planned. It may mean walking with just three camels and one guide, something that poses a few logistical problems; but however it happens, I will be there. I need to be - all this good living is not doing my waistline any favours, not to mention my liver. Another six months here and I'd have trouble walking to the supermarket. As if there is a conspiracy out there to keep me in the manner to which I have been unaccustomed, my friends Cat and Terry, who run On Trade media (and who have been long supporters of the walk and site) have contracted me to do some pub reviews and other alcohol related articles for this year's publication. I can think of few jobs to which I am better suited than being obliged to visit a variety of pubs and sample their Real Ale. It has been a ture hardship, let me tell you.

So I had better go and actually write them; or maybe meet Terry up at the pub to just talk them over a bit more....

Please do enter my little competition. The box (it's a BIG box) has to go to someone. And all the girls are eyeing it off covetously, so I need to get it out of the house before they get their grubby little paws on it. And you don't actually HAVE to take the book as well!

Just an added aside to Avid Reader - please feel free to email me directly with your questions, and a name to go with them. Whilst I have no objection to responding to you, I prefer to do so in private, as I am sure you can understand. Gary is also contactable via gary@constanttrek if you should like to contact him.

Cheers!

Gearing up...

As I think I may have already mentioned, the primary focus for the next part of my walk is raising money for Breast Cancer Research.  In Australia, this is through the National Breast Cancer Foundation.  The charity was my Mum's choice - after being diagnosed with the condition last year, whilst I was in the desert, and being treated in Melbourne, she feels strongly about the need to raise money for research into a condition that affects 1 in 9 women worldwide.  After hearing about her ordeal via telephone last year, I feel strongly about it too, and I am really glad to be able to raise money for the NBCF.  They have just put up a link to my walk on their site; the address is www.nbcf.org.au , and the section on my walk is under the fundraising activities bar. 

The NBCF has been hugely supportive about the walk, which has meant a lot to me.  I do need to make clear at this stage that ANY donations go directly to the charity, not to me - it is possible to donate to my walk via this diary page, but I would encourage people to donate to the NBCF instead.  I will find a way to walk in September no matter what - whereas the charity needs all the help it can get.

I write a lot on this page about boring things like making phone calls, and sitting on the computer.  What I don't say so much about is how I have managed to actually get by since I have been back, and here it is way past due to talk about some of the people that have made my existence possible.

When I first landed, it was Dan and Stefania who put me up - for weeks on end.  Despite being flat out, and having limited space, they put up with me being crashed on their floor for several weeks; fed me amazing Italian food every night; and listened to endless stories about the desert.  I simply could not have found myself in happier circumstances, and their hospitality was as generous as it was joyful.

At this stage, I was still waiting for my criminal check to come back so that I could at least do a few days a week supply teaching in order to keep the wolf from the door.  Another friend of mine, Steve, offered me a room at his house for a while.  Steve is a part of my lovely old "Walthamstow community" - this consists of three houses all in a stone's throw of each other, all the inhabitants of whom have at some stage shared each other's houses.  I moved into Steve's and had, for the first time in many months, the luxury of a room and a bed - something I will never take for granted again.  Steve also just happens to be an AMAZING cook (yes, we all know how I feel about my food), and not only listened to me and offered advice on all things to do with the walk, but kept me stocked up with gorgeous food and enormous gin and tonics.  He also gave me the greatest gift - somewhere to quietly work in peace.  His house is where I am currently writing this from.

In between, Stephanie, who is the owner of the last home we lived in before setting off on the walk (and is also part of the Walthamstow crew) offered me a room with her.  I thought it was time to give Steve a break - poor lad is working all the hours God gave and coming home to a ranting lunatic most days - and so for the last few weeks I have been staying with Steph, which means I chat to Dave from upstairs, Maria from next door, and all the other various people who share the houses or drop in and out. 

I say all of this because many times over the last couple of months I have had a down day or two, and wondered what on earth is coming next, and how I will ever find a way to keep on walking.  And every time I have had any kind of shaky moment, one of these beautiful people has been there, to listen, open a bottle, make a cup of tea, or offer me a meal.  Never in all my life have I been more aware of the absolute gift of good mates, and of the extraordinary kindness people show one another.  I rave about it a lot on the site, especially when we were in Morocco; but coming back here has reminded me of the fact that kindness is not something that just happens overseas whilst travelling, but rather is everywhere, and never more so than amongst those people who have believed in this venture from the start, and who have been my mates all the way through it.

When I spoke to Steve about this, he waved his hand, and said:  "the only thing that is important is to pay it forward when you have the chance."  Everybody in this community seems to feel that way, and if I know one thing, it is that I just hope one day that I have the opportunity to do so.  I can never accurately describe how unbelievably comforting and touching it has been to have such support.

My family, who very rarely get a mention in these pages, are the others that I need to thank; my sister Lisa, who has sat on the phone and listened to me rant, rave, cry and despair, and never told me to shut the hell up, though she must have longed to.  My Mum, who despite having struggled with dreadful illness this year has been nothing but a rock of support, and endless source of ideas, inspiration, and encouragement.  My brother Ashley, who despite being on a cray boat in the middle of Northern Queensland somewhere still finds time to send me lovely emails that make me laugh; and my Dad and his partner Ela, down in Cornwall, who put me up, fed me, and came up with an array of suggestions - not to mention finding an entire wordrobe of clothes, since mine had pretty much had it!

Expeditions like this don't just take the efforts of one person.  Without the love and support of all my friends and family, I would never have come this far, nor have had the confidence to believe that I can go further.  Knowing that you are all out there and believing in what I am doing means absolutely everything, and keeps me afloat when I am scared of crashing. The cups of tea, the meals late at night when I am fed up with the computer, the bottle of wine at the end of a crap day (okay, the three bottles); all of these things keep me smiling, keep me believing, and keep me determined to really succeed at this.

Thankyou all so much.  After these last two years, I have a great deal to pay forward, and I shall never forget that debt.

That was all a bit serious, wasn't it?  I might have to find a comedy moment for the next one....

Timmissartok foundation

Well - the nicest piece of news I have had in a very long time - the Timmissartok foundation, an independent trust set up to assist adventurers, has agreed to make a donation to the expedition.  I am working on a thousand different angles, but this is the first positive step I have had.  No doubt there will be others, but for now, I would like to thank Tom Claytor and all at Timmissartok for supporting not just myself, but the many others that the organisation has helped to realise their dreams.  Sometimes just a little help can go a long, long way - and today, as I was pounding away at the computer and phoning another hundred propsects, that email was like a gift from the gods.

Thanks, guys.

www.timmissartok.com .  Take a look.  They are an inspiration.

Tea making

This is the sister of a friend of mine in M'Hamid.  I was looking through my photographs and found this one - and, as I spend so much of my time trying to write articles nobody buys, I decided to indulge myself by posting her picture up and writing something people actually read, about what she is doing in the photograph.

Those who have read the site before may have heard about making tea in the desert, and how ritualized the process is.  But since I have been back in England, and my tea habit has remained as strong as ever, I have enjoyed making it for friends and family, but realised also how difficult it is to replicate the ritual in an environment where people have neither time nor, necessarily, inclination, to sit through it.  So I shall relate it here properly, just once.

The person making the tea will always set themselves up before they begin, with a low, round tray before them (usually silver) on which sit the glasses.  The tray often has small legs, so that when cross legged, it is at a convenient height - say about four inches off the ground.  Beside the tea maker rests a holder as in the photograph - although here it is made from metal, it is also often a pottery holder with sand in the bottom - in which coals burn.  In a house, the coals have been prepared over the gas stove.  In a tent, they have been brought inside from the inevitable fire outside.  The tea used is a particular type called Chinese gunpowder tea.  There are varying qualities, and the discussion over which brand is the best is a continual hot topic amongst nomads.  The quality certainly differs greatly, and I found that the best  place to buy tea was down in the Western Sahara rather than further north.

A small amount of tea is placed in the bottom of the teapot - teapots in Saharawi culture tend to be almost intentionally humble, rather than the fancy filigreed affairs Morocco is famous for, as if it is cool to be a bit ragged.  (It reminded me of being served dinner in France on faded, tarnished silver, with fine linen napkins that nonetheless are slightly threadbare and moth eaten.  Something aristocratic about trying not to impress, if that makes sense).  An inch or two of water covers the tea, and the teapot is placed on the coals, which the tea maker fans with bellows.  After the initial water comes to the boil, it is poured directly out as waste - this initial brew is just to wash the bitterness out of the tea.  More water is poured in, this time to fill the teapot, and put on to gently rise to the boil.  If the tea is particularly bitter or bad quality, it is rinsed again, with cold water.

Something I should perhaps mention here is that usually the water itself is in a larger kettle, and has already been slightly heated.  I always loved to watch the competent, efficient way water was poured from the kettle - rather than grasping the handle on top and pouring as one would a watering can, it seems habit instead to pick it up with one's hand under the handle rather than over, so that the pouring motion almost looks back to front, as if one is pushing up something like a weights bar rather than pulling.  As finicky as this may sound, there was something captivating about the deliberate way it was done - and it is through gestures like this that the whole dance of elegant movement comes in, all the small things that make a ritual.  It simply wouldn't look the same if you picked the kettle up the wrong way - and indeed, I still find myself doing it now.

The teapot slowly comes to the boil and is removed from the coals.  A glass or two is poured out, and returned to the pot - this is repeated a couple of times.  Then a glass is poured out, from a bit of a height, which will form a slight foam on top, and left to rest.  From a small locked tin box, the tea maker will take the sugar cone.  Sugar in Morocco is sold in kilo weight, packed as a solid conical shape.  It looks a little like a mini rocket ship.  In the tin box will always be a tapping implement, like a sharp rock or a piece of heavy metal, and with the sugar in one hand and the rock in another, a piece will be neatly tapped off, with one or two sure hits.  I can tell you from long experience that as simple as this may look, it takes some practice - I think MBarak used to wince as he watched me attacking the cone with great determination, small shards of sugar whizzing dangerously across the ground.  It took me weeks to master the art of loosening a piece with one hit, and even now (I left my rock in Morocco and can't seem to find a good replacement - that is my excuse, anyhow) I still manage to make a hell of a mess.  So it is all the more impressive to watch someone quietly tap exactly the right spot, and come away with a lovely thick slice of sugar.  Dead funky trick.  (Below is Madani's Mum, better know as Tea Guru.  Tea at their house is the real deal.)

The sugar is put into the pot and left to rest, and meanwhile, the great pouring ceremony starts.  Now, I have been making tea daily for six months, and I am not too bad.  But watch a nomad do this and one can only harbour deep seated tea-envy.  Saharawi in particular, use tiny glasses - I have a theory that it is an inverted snobbery: "see if you can find the opening to these little babies from great heights, suckers" - that kind of thing.  With deft, sure movements, the tea is poured from a height of about half a metre directly into the glass below, and then returned to the original glass.  The action is repeated for every glass on the tray.  Everyone has a characteristic way of doing this, but often the glass begins quite low, is quickly raised to the maximum height, then just as quickly swoops down again and twists, right at the end, to stop any spillage leaking down the side.  When I do it, it takes me several pours to achieve the aim - which is to create a nice froth in the bottom of each glass.  But I have watched Saharawi, both women and men (equally adept), simply pour once and achieve the kind of froth that no fifty repeats would give me.  After the froth up, the tea is poured back into the pot, and once more the tea is poured out into two glasses and returned to the pot - to mix the sugar.  At this stage, a really good Saharawi tea maker will add three other ingredients:  the sap from a particular tree in the desert; a tiny thread of saffron; and, if one is in the desert, a a piece of a small plant that grows which has a wild flavour vaguely reminiscent of mint, but somehow, far more piquant.  This plant has small yellow flowers, and is found often amongst the vegetation camels like to eat.  I became adept at spotting it.

These three ingredients change the flavour of the tea, giving it that something extra, and making it also easier to form a froth.   Now the tea is once again poured from glass to glass, and this time, with the sugar and other ingredients, the tea gains a kind of creamy, smooth consistency, and smells wonderful.  By now, if you haven't got a froth - then baby, you no good.  Go back to opening stubbies in a nightclub.  No gold star for your tea making.

As all of this is going on, the teapot is resting on the tray and behind the glasses.  A teapot at the front of the glasses implies that the guests should help themselves; and is rude.  After every pour, a cloth is wiped around the rim of the glass, deftly, to prevent spillage and sticky glasses.  If a drop goes on the tray, it is quickly wiped up.  But, let's face it - we DON'T drop tea, ladies, do we now?  it really isn't cricket.

So, by this stage, we have a semi circle of glasses with a lovely good inch of foam at the bottom, and well mixed, good consistency tea.  Time for the coup-de-grace; the teapot is raised and, once more  from a great height, a good two inches is poured into each glass, and passed around.   The glasses are never filled, for this, my friends, is only the FIRST round. 

Whilst the others drink their tea, the tea maker is already preparing the pot for the second round.  The process is the same except that for the second and third rounds, the tea leaves remain in the pot, and just a small amount is added to maintain the strength.  Each round will taste slightly different, with wide consensus being that the third is usually the best.  To give you some idea, for all three rounds of tea (which is customary and, in the desert, obligatory), the time frame is at least an hour.  And it is not at all unusual to just finish making tea when someone else will arrive at the tent, and the whole process starts again.  Normally a plate of biscuits, nuts and dates is placed out with the tea.

At the end of the process the glasses are quickly rinsed out with water, over the silver tray, which is then swilled around and drained off.  Everything is carefully dried and put in the corner with a cloth over it, ready for the next use.  The things for tea are always close at hand, since it will usually be made at least three times daily.

It is a sensual, sometimes almost seductive, ritual.  The way a woman sits; the way she flings her melkhva out of her way, and arranges it around her face; the quick glimpses of a lower arm beneath the material, or a strand of hair poking out from the forehead - all of these things are intimate and part of the experience.  I found making tea for other women to be, at times, quite nerve wracking; they watched me like hawks, and giggled when I made a mistake, although never from a malicious angle.  The men tended to stand less on ceremony, often waving away my offers of tea.  I think my most prized purchase in Morocco was my own teapot, tray, and pottery holder; I felt inordinately proud of them, particularly the first time I managed to make the tea without spilling a drop.

Sometimes now I begin to make tea for people but here, no-one has the time to sit for the full ritual.  They generally take a taste and proclaim it too sweet for them, and decline the second round.  It was hard to come to terms with this at first - I am so accustomed to drinking the tea whether I want to or not, as a courtesy, that there was something kind of shocking about people simply saying they didn't want anymore.  But more than that, I realised that the tea ceremony is about much more than the tea - it is about having time to sit and swap stories, talk bollocks if you like, and that for that time, there is no sense of having to do something else, BE somewhere else, because, after all, one IS doing something important: having tea.  This notion of being occupied simply by sitting is not one that we have anymore; we are just too busy.  I am not trying to imply that I think Saharawi culture is superior - I sure had days when I could have screamed from the frustration of being forced to sit for hours on end when I had things I wanted to do - but a balance would be nice, and there is something to be said for focussed time in which to concentrate on nothing more important than making a good glass of tea.  I still gain immense satisfaction out of it - and I know when I am stressed, because I spill it.  It takes concentration and patience, and for me, these are two things I always need to be working on.

So, there ends my little tea rave.  Maybe you will never have the joy of Saharawi tea - but it is a ritual that is repeated in hundreds of Middle Eastern and African homes, with a variety of twists.  Perhaps you have a friend who would love to invite you home for tea, if you have the time.

It's all fun

Some time last year I read a book by an Australian girl who had moved to Paris, after falling in love with a Frenchman.  Amidst the general unpheaval and emotional strain of  immersing herself n a culture totally different to her own (and boy, believe me, after spending a month in Paris I'm not too sure that it isn't easier to handle the desert), she also decided to try her hand at freelance journalism.  Having worked in televised media in Australia, she felt certain she had what it took to become a successful journalist.  The following months of her life made for fascinating reading - and induced something of a sense of horror at the same time.  The poor girl sent off proposal after proposal, by fax, phone, letter and email, only to be continually rejected - or not contacted in response at all.  In the end, she took some kind of induction course for aspiring freelance writers, which also promised an opening in the field.  She is now highly successful (and still lives in Paris).

When things get really lousy, I think of that book.  I am fed up with getting on this site and moaning about trying to get hold of money or funding; so I shall try to lighten up a bit and, as the same time, keep you posted on what is happening.

The Royal Geographical Society have posted their final selection, and I am not in it.  Oddly, I am not remotely bothered by this - I have been utterly appalled at the lack of professionalism involved in their decision making process (they are something like five months over schedule at the moment), and I also feel that perhaps our perspectives don't tally.  In the meantime, I have applied to the NATIONAL  Geographical Society - for some reason, I had never found the section of their site for grant applications in all of my previous trawling.  Still, that one is a long shot.

I went on to Excess Baggage last week which was a marvellous experience, although anyone who listened will testify to the rotten case of nerves I had at the start -it took me a minute to get a handle on it all!  But Sandy Toksvig and all of her crew were incredibly kind, as were both John Pilkington and the Ambassador to Rome and his wife, the other guests.  Hopefully I will be more relaxed if ever I go on again.

I was utterly determined to capitalise on this little bit of publicity in the following week, so I sent off a frantic rush of emails with proposals.  To my absolute amazement, the Sunday Times agreed to give me a shot - at their travel section.  After a day of complete euphoria, and two days of typing my butt off and being a complete psycho to all and sundry, I submitted my paltry efforts and stood by chewing nails.

I got the nicest rejection letter ever.  I am sure that is what happens when editors are really well paid - they have the time to tell you your stuff is crap in a polite fashion rather than just not answering, like the lovely Australian ones (yes, Jane Reddy, that would be you, honey.).   The even better thing is that they pay you to reject your work.  On this basis, I can actually live on one rejection per week.  I'm going for it.

I guess one of the problems is that my story doesn't really suit the travel sections; I am trying to find where it does go.  The response I have had from nearly all of those who work in Travel, is that my story is too complex for their section - they want brief descriptions of places and great weekends away with a quirky twist, not six months in the Sahara with camels.  I just have to find where I fit, and try to market it accordingly.

The funny thing is they all say they think it would make a great book.  I want to scream that I HAVE a great book, but that no major publisher wants it because I do not have a big enough public platform to sell it from; in the meantime, UNTIL someone publishes it, it is very difficult to find the money need in order to carry on walking, so that I can cross the desert and GET the public profile.  That was a lot of capital letters, wasn't it? 

Frankly, I think the solution is to just go with one of the smaller publishers (my agent has really not liked this option because he thinks it should go with, I guess, someone who will pay proper money for it) and hustle, teach, pull beers, and plug away with articles in order to find the money to keep walking.  I will, one way or another.

The other piece of news that I suppose is long overdue on this site is regarding Gary.  Put simply, we are no longer walking together, and, for the moment, he is pursuing other options.  So, I will be tackling the next stage alone. 

In the meantime  I fired off another squillion emails with proposals this morning.  It is pouring with rain here in London, despite the fact that it is attempting to be Spring, and at least I don't look out of the window and wish I had the money and time to be playing in the sun.  I figure there will be plenty of time for all of that after I have made the money to carrry on walking!

MBarak has been emailing me through his cousin, reminding me about Chamelette, Mimi, Ali baba, Zarwel and Habil.  As if I could forget.  I think of them every day, and Madani and MBarak, and count the nights until I can be back walking again.   In the meantime, I think of that girl in Paris, sending off day after day with no success, and I remind myself that it took her two years to get anywhere - and that in the end, she learned that her lack of success had nothing to do with her writing ability, but rather with her knowledge as to how to approach the process.  I am taking that to heart, and reading all I can and trying to refine my approach daily. 

I am staying with another mate of mine, Steve, who has been the soul of generosity and loaned me a spare room and the use of his fabulous iMac (man those things are so sexy!).  My old landlady Steph is just up the road, and it is a huge joy to sit with her and Steve and curse the media in general - and take on board their suggestions, which they give with endless patience.  I might miss the desert, but, oh, the bliss of good mates!

So, enough procrastinating now, here goes another go at rejection...

Cheers
paula