A few days ago I received a formal offer of publication for my proposed book Among the Iranians and two days ago I received the contract by email. All I have to do now is print it out, sign it and return it to the publishers in Boston, Mass.
It’s been so long since I sent in the proposal (March 2007 – before we left London, in fact) that I am used to waiting for a response and I find it hard to believe that the wait is over and that I now need to get down to work. The manuscript has to be ready by 15 June 2009, more or less the time when the children’s examinations are over, very conveniently.
Today I made a start with a new chapter on clothes.
Saturday, 18 October 2008
Wednesday, 8 October 2008
Back to Tehran (20 September 2008)
We got back to Tehran around midnight on Saturday, September 20th. Although we had made sure all the windows were shut fast, the house was full of dust. Drama Queen just had to do the dusting at the time and would not be persuaded to leave it until the morning. Hossein went out in search of essentials, like milk (you’ve got to hand this to Tehran: you can find shops open at this time of night) and came back with a roast chicken for the pre-dawn meal, this being the 20th of Ramadan.
Schools started two days later, on Tuesday 23rd September, which barely gave us time to pick up schools things and uniforms, shorten trousers, label and cover school books. Since then, it’s been non-stop work clearing a huge ironing backlog, clearing out wardrobes and cupboards, shopping and doing myriad other things around the house.
Then there was some work checking against copy waiting for me from the publishers I work for and the final check of the chapter I’ve written for a collection of essays (Face, Language and Social Processes, forthcoming in 2009, Equinox Press). Oh, and a huge chunk of my time and energy goes into comforting frantic Drama Queen, who on the first day back from her Art High School decided that everything is too difficult for her and she won’t make it and everybody is better than her, and she’ll fail the year and people will laugh at her… Two weeks on, she is admittedly better, but still needs practical help and psychological support. Thank God that at least Yussi absolutely loves his new school and has made a very good start.
And I thought I was meant to be writing.
Schools started two days later, on Tuesday 23rd September, which barely gave us time to pick up schools things and uniforms, shorten trousers, label and cover school books. Since then, it’s been non-stop work clearing a huge ironing backlog, clearing out wardrobes and cupboards, shopping and doing myriad other things around the house.
Then there was some work checking against copy waiting for me from the publishers I work for and the final check of the chapter I’ve written for a collection of essays (Face, Language and Social Processes, forthcoming in 2009, Equinox Press). Oh, and a huge chunk of my time and energy goes into comforting frantic Drama Queen, who on the first day back from her Art High School decided that everything is too difficult for her and she won’t make it and everybody is better than her, and she’ll fail the year and people will laugh at her… Two weeks on, she is admittedly better, but still needs practical help and psychological support. Thank God that at least Yussi absolutely loves his new school and has made a very good start.
And I thought I was meant to be writing.
Vienna, 19-20 September 2008
On the way to Tehran we had to spend the night in Vienna, thanks to the lack of direct flights between Athens and Tehran. Athens had just started cooling down (meaning that the highest temperature was 31C), but Vienna was already wintry (8-13C with rain the day we were there), which was a bit of a shock. I had anticipated something like that and had packed three hoodie jackets for Hossein and the children, but I was literally left out in the cold.
As soon as we got out the airport train station in Vienna, I popped into a small supermarket and bought a pashmina shawl, an unlikely but necessary souvenir.
In fact, the overnight was not much use: we had woken up at 3.30 am that morning in order to catch the 7.15 flight to Vienna. We left our suitcases at the airport so that we could hang around a little and have lunch before checking into our hotel room just after lunchtime. The plan was that we would rest for a bit after lunch and then go out in the evening, but we were so tired, that we slept until after 6 pm when it was already dark. To be fair, we prepared to go out and we did walk along the street where our hostel was. A supermarket was still open. We went in to have a look and ended up buying snacks and a bite for supper. Coming from Athens, the streets looked deserted, even though it was Friday evening, and Hossein had a cold, so we went back to our room: we were simply too tired to go anywhere.
The following morning we had just two hours to look around the historic centre of Vienna, so we got off at Museums Quartier, walked through towards the Hofburg and St Michaelsplatz and caught the underground again back to the hostel to retrieve our bags and get to the airport.
Last time I was in Vienna (1986, half my life ago) I was twenty-two. I was travelling on an Interrail student ticket with my then classmate and now good friend Anastasia, who was in love with the city. We had stayed for a whole week then, but I now find I can’t remember much of the city as it was then. This is the mystery of the human mind. I wonder what Anastasia remembers of our stay.
As soon as we got out the airport train station in Vienna, I popped into a small supermarket and bought a pashmina shawl, an unlikely but necessary souvenir.
In fact, the overnight was not much use: we had woken up at 3.30 am that morning in order to catch the 7.15 flight to Vienna. We left our suitcases at the airport so that we could hang around a little and have lunch before checking into our hotel room just after lunchtime. The plan was that we would rest for a bit after lunch and then go out in the evening, but we were so tired, that we slept until after 6 pm when it was already dark. To be fair, we prepared to go out and we did walk along the street where our hostel was. A supermarket was still open. We went in to have a look and ended up buying snacks and a bite for supper. Coming from Athens, the streets looked deserted, even though it was Friday evening, and Hossein had a cold, so we went back to our room: we were simply too tired to go anywhere.
The following morning we had just two hours to look around the historic centre of Vienna, so we got off at Museums Quartier, walked through towards the Hofburg and St Michaelsplatz and caught the underground again back to the hostel to retrieve our bags and get to the airport.
Last time I was in Vienna (1986, half my life ago) I was twenty-two. I was travelling on an Interrail student ticket with my then classmate and now good friend Anastasia, who was in love with the city. We had stayed for a whole week then, but I now find I can’t remember much of the city as it was then. This is the mystery of the human mind. I wonder what Anastasia remembers of our stay.
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