Supper at the Sultan's Palace

This week we were fortunate to get an invitation to dinner at the Sultan's Palace (Istana Nurul Iman) in Bandar to celebrate his 67th birthday. Big Man had to wear his formal uniform and I had to wear white from head to toe, which is definitely not my usual sort of clothing! This event is one of the highlights of the social calendar in Brunei. Now the Sultan's birthday is actually in July, as I mentioned in my post on the 9th of that month but this year it coincided with Ramadan so the occasion was postponed until September.

Late afternoon on Tuesday we travelled up to the capital in the army charabanc, being careful not to transfer any smudges of camouflage cream remaining on the seats onto our white apparel and enjoying the relaxed, child-free outing.

On the drive into the palace grounds, there was decorative lighting for the occasion and many people making their way up the road.

We were shepherded through security where we had to scan our bags and into an extremely large venue where we were placed on a long table amongst six thousand other people! Here we are in our white outfits enjoying orange juice and mineral water.

Eventually a few words were spoken, the royal family and dignitaries were seated in their golden inner sanctum and the lid was removed from the silver tureen so we could tuck into the food, which was a selection of curries and rice. At this point we were so hungry we would have eaten a small horse. I had intended to have a snack before setting off but was deterred by the thought of soiling my clothes!

Some time after dinner, people began to stand at the other end of the hall, and we were shuffled around into a suitable formation. The Sultan moved along every table, shaking hands with each and every guest. This picture shows him in the white jacket in the next row to us. His entourage included his grown-up sons, one of whom is the Crown Prince, and his two younger children by his third wife (non-consecutive).

We weren't sure exactly what the protocol was so Big Man was taken by surprise to be spoken to but I have been told since that he often likes to engage with the British people.

Then it was home time and after a few entertaining requests for photos from local girl guides (who possibly had us mixed up with somebody important) we headed back to the bus for a little snooze. The exertion of consorting with royals in far flung countries was starting to get to us!

The dying art of sending Christmas cards

I have come to the conclusion, in this modern digital age, that the tradition of posting Christmas cards is dying out. As evidence let me offer to you our experience over the previous 12 months. Last year in early December I laboriously wrote out over 40 cards destined for friends and family in the UK as well as one or two other countries and took them to our post office to send them, requesting second class as usual. [For those who do not know, we only pay British postage rates and so do those who post to us as the military very kindly organise the delivery on the London-Brunei leg]. I was informed that the postage came to over £25. This was a staggering shock to me. "Twenty five pounds for second class, are you sure?!" I spluttered. The price was correct.

Over the next few weeks we exchanged a few more cards with neighbours around the estate, a single Nepali child in Woozles' class who had made the gesture and some of Big Man's very thoughtful colleagues, most of whom are not Christian or European. A handful of cards arrived from the UK, which was lovely. And we arranged them above our windows on the box pelmets we are so thoughtfully provided with, dutifully replacing them every time the fan whirled.

After the festive season was over, Epiphany was truly done and dusted and we were well into January, another batch of cards arrived. Once I had combined them with the others in order to make gift tags (an annual event I always relish), I found the tally of cards from the UK = a grand total of 11. Now I am not a mercenary person and I am happy to do good deeds without expecting something immediately in return but it left me feeling the whole business was a bit of a let-down. Now fair enough most of my friends and a fair few of my family are busy having babies/ working hard/ moving house (particularly the military contingent) at the moment, but I was slightly put out. I suspect we can blame the Royal Mail, or whoever they are these days, for putting up the price of stamps, and of course it can't be easy keeping tabs on where we live when we move, on average, just under once a year, however with the exception of a few elderly people who do not have a computer I am officially resigning from sending Christmas cards from now on. Maybe it'll even inspire one or two individuals to read the blog other than that weird guy in Russia.

'Autumn' term in the tropics

Back to reality in Brunei after our summer holidays and Woozles is settling into school reasonably well. The weather has started to turn a little breezier and wetter and we have even had two cool, cloudy days when I forgot to turn the air-con in the bedroom off and had a distinctly chilly bedtime! Soon it will be time to watch out for floods and all the beasties which emerge from their hidey holes when water levels rise. So even though there is not an autumn here, we have definitely reached the transitional season. We will still have plenty of sunshine though in case you were worried about the weather when visiting!

This weekend has involved us eating our way around the local district. Friday night we were lucky enough to be invited to a Nepalese curry night, complete with momos (a momo is a yummy dumpling which I may just turn into), samosas and rice. Then yesterday after lunch out, we went to a buffet function hosted by His Nibs' rugby sponsor and had another plate full of satay, curry, salad and the like. Late last night at the leaving do of a dear friend I gorged on mango chicken and a selection of home-made cakes! Needless to say the post-holiday detox only really lasted 2 weeks and waistlines are bulging again! Gym and pool beckon.