The Blue Knickers of Happiness

By Helen Eveleigh

Why would anyone choose to stay silent for ten days? These people must have messed up their lives big time to want to imprison themselves here.

Thats what Jack, an advertising executive from New York, wonders when he unwittingly finds himself on a ten-day silent meditation retreat in the Himalayas.

This book follows the stories of five of the retreat participants and their searches for happiness, love, peace of mind, and enlightenment in India and beyond. Their interwoven paths are often touching and sometimes hilariousespecially when maggot-filled muesli bars, scorpions, dodgy gurus, giant tigers, a little fluffy duck called Eric, and the dreaded Death make surprise appearances.

The Blue Knickers of Happiness is an amusing yet insightful novel about what can happen when you stop and watch your mind. It explores how a little mindfulness can help ordinary people touch the extraordinary magic that lies within.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press AU
• Release date: Dec 3, 2013
• ISBN: 9781452512303

Helen Eveleigh

Helen Eveleigh left her career in sustainable development to explore Asia’s ancient teachings on happiness. This quest saw her live in monasteries, ashrams, intentional communities, caves, jungle tree-houses, and a Mongolian shaman’s yurt. She has undertaken numerous silent meditation retreats and learnt much from both holy men and travellers.

Book preview

PART ONE

AFTER THE SILENCE

Chapter One

Santosh

Golly gosh, I can’t believe I’m really here. For months I’ve been fantasising about freeing my body from its clothes and launching myself headfirst into my love’s lap, ready for whatever she demands from me. And now here I am, in the toilets at Kolkata Airport, about to do just that. Dreams do come true it seems.

I rip the clothes from my sweaty body as quickly as my hands will allow, letting my shirt drop onto the sticky puddled floor. My state of unbridled ecstasy comes to an unexpected and sudden halt when an army of doubt besieges my mind.

Perhaps you should keep your briefs on for now it says. See how things go before you disrobe completely—see how your love responds to your appearance.

I ignore its warnings. I’ve come all this way after all and see no point in being cautious now. My dear, wondrous India I stand naked on your soil. My body cannot compare to the beauty of your nature and my soul could never be as rich, vibrant and abounding in life as yours but it’s all I have, and I offer it to you. Mother India, my love I have abandoned my world for you. I am yours, do with me whatever you wish.

I pull the dhoti from my bag and wrap it around my waist. I’d rather wander free to the elements, but I’m not sure how the security here would react to a naked sadhu loose in the airport. And the dhoti’s not so bad—there’s no buttons, zips, pockets or fuss—just a strip of cloth wrapped around me, so easy, so simple, so free. Like my new life.

Hahahaha. My Superman costume change seems to have flummoxed the toilet attendant. He locks his eyes on mine, grunts and points at my discarded trainers then his feet. I hesitate, questioning whether an airport toilet cleaner is the most worthy recipient of my Golas. It’s not a bad job—there are millions of Indians worse off. But who am I to make judgements on others. If he wants them, then he can have them. He asked so eloquently after all.

A simple nod from me and it’s as if he’s won the lottery. I try to enjoy his urine stenched hug for as long as he wants to give it. Which is quite a while. Awesome. Oh, India, you are so crazy and dirty and smelly. I’ve missed you dearly.

Despite my lack of clothes and luggage, the tuk-tuk drivers outside the airport still clamour to be my friend. I didn’t expect that. A fight breaks out as they scramble to be the first person in my face. I smile politely and shake my head. I try to calm them with a shanti bhai, shanti. Peace brother peace.

But I don’t get shanti. I get Where to? from the proud winner of the fight.

I don’t need tuk-tuk. I walk from here.

Where to?

To the river.

You need tuk-tuk then.

No, I don’t.

You do. River long way. You need tuk-tuk.

Thank you but I already have everything I need.

No. If you walk then you need shoes. I can take you to shoe shop. Good price.

No shoes for me. I’m a sadhu now. A holy man. I wander India barefoot. The earth is my temple. With every step I offer praise and thanks.

No. You white man. You no sadhu. You need shoes. You need tuk-tuk.

Thank you, but no. Like I said, I already have everything I need. The universe provides.

He snorts and rolls his eyes, making his friends giggle.

No it doesn’t. Look around you. You blind? Road is dirty. You need shoes. Or tuk-tuk. Or both. Forget the universe. I can provide.

Smiling I decide to walk away. Some things are too profound for measly words. As Lao-Tzu said, He who knows does not speak and he who speaks does not know. All the same, I feel my jaw tensing nervously as I wonder whether anyone will understand my pilgrimage. Perhaps it won’t be as easy as I thought to wander India seeking God, begging for alms. Perhaps I made a massive mistake.

No, they must understand. This is the country where lawyers and doctors regularly renounce their loves and belongings for a spot of spiritual wandering. But then again they’re not Great White Cash Cows. In theory it shouldn’t make a difference, we’re all one after all, isn’t that what it says in their Bhagavad Gita? But what if they’re not so hot on their scriptures? Oh well, there’s not much I can do now is there. And if they don’t understand then I might just be totally buggered. Hahahaha.

I thread my way through the streets of Kolkata asking the locals for directions to the river. I walk with full awareness, smiling at everyone who comes my way. People reply with smiles of love and sunshine. Awesome.

I feel a presence above me. I look up and see a little boy in mud smeared clothes spilling out of an upstairs window. He seems absorbed in prayer, with me as his idol and his mantra, Chocolate, chocolate, chocolate.

I shake my head but suddenly remember the package in my bag, For Emergency Only.

I’m not sure kiddo, but let’s see what we have here. Maybe the universe has something special in store for you.

He might not understand my words, but he comprehends their meaning, disappearing from the window and swiftly re-emerging by my feet. The package is hardly out of my bag before his hands are all over it. He helps tear the wrapping off and unearth the treasures inside. And sure enough, there it is—chocolate—a giant bar of Lindt courtesy of Mum. The kid explodes all over me with dribble and excitement as I hand it over. Soon I am coated in a plague of hungry hectic children tugging at my dhoti and peering into my wondrous bag, shredding the shiny tin foil packages and scattering nuts and cheese all over the street. Within a matter of seconds the entire contents of my emergency package have found a home. As have my jeans, the urine splattered France 2010 shirt and even my stinky airplane sweat soaked briefs. Hahahaha.

I know Mum wouldn’t mind. It’s not like I’m throwing her presents away. I’m giving them away with as much love as she gave them to me. And I’m sure I won’t need any of it. The universe will provide everything I need. It already has. Today I’m especially rich in hugs and smiles it would seem.

I will wander this blessed country in search of my truth with the sky as my roof and the stars my bedfellows, a river my shower, a lake my bathtub. I shall beg my lunch from local goat herders and pass my time in meditation. Awesome.

After saying goodbye to my new friends I wander once more towards the river that will guide me to the Ganges. I notice my feet are already sore from the sharp stones and glass I’ve stepped on but I know the pain is just temporary, my skin will harden, my body will adapt to this new life. I have faith. And until it hardens I can use each step to maintain my awareness—it will help keep my focus.

With this step I touch the earth. With this step I open my heart. With this step I touch the earth. With this step I open my heart…

The journey is only just beginning. I’m going walkabout in India!

Awesome. Awesome. Awesome!!

Jack

I wasn’t sure how things would be with me and Frank. We’d been close before, but so much had happened since. I wondered if he’d notice the changes in me. I wondered if he’d still want me on his team. I’d tried sprucing myself up as much as possible in Mumbai with an expensive yet god-awful haircut, a facial, a clean white shirt and some new Levis. I figured if he’d seen me draped in hippy beads and sprouting dreadlocks he’d have run away for sure. But it must have worked, as there he was amongst the mass of cardboard signs, a ferocious smile on his face.

Hey Jack. It’s swell to see you. I’ve got the car outside and the driver’ll have some coffee ready for you the minute we hop in. You must have missed proper coffee?

I sure have. That sounds great.

You’re looking so much better than last time I saw you. You gave us a scare there for a while, you know? It looks like India treated you well, though you could do with a decent haircut.

India was as incredible as the posters say for once. Their marketing guys certainly have a great product to sell. Actually the break gave me exactly what I needed, even when I didn’t know what that was. But it’s good to see you, good to be back in New York. Seriously, you have no idea how much I missed this place at times. Anyways how’s business been?

Oh, you know, ticking over. Steve’s been keeping an eye on your accounts. But it’s not been the same without you. When can you start back?

When do you need me?

Yesterday if that’s possible, or even the day before. You know how things are.

It’s been a while, but I’m starting to remember. I’m flattered you came to meet me straight off the plane, but my brain is still somewhere over the Atlantic. Can I get back to you on the exact details in a couple of days?

Sure Jack, sure. I was only joking about the hurry. What’s a few days after all this time, buddy? The important thing is you’re back. But I do need your help on something urgent. That’s why I wanted to meet you here.

Shucks. I thought you just wanted to give me a friendly welcome.

Of course I did Jack, of course, we’re almost family. That’s why we can be honest with each other, right buddy? First off, I want to thank you for your honesty these last few months. I know it can’t have been easy to let anyone in on what was going on with you. It must have been a very difficult time, and I’m really glad you found somewhere that could help you get through it. I only wish I could have done more. But I’m sure you’ll understand that we can’t let anyone else know where you’ve been these last months. We’ll need to keep it as our little secret.

We will?

It’s not me. I’ve got nothing against the Hindus, It’s our shareholders I’m thinking of, they’re not all as open minded. If they heard that you had spent months in an Indian ashram chanting to some monkey god, they’d think you’d completely lost your mind. They wouldn’t understand it was a temporary blip, that there were some very valid reasons behind it. They wouldn’t want you back on the team and might even start to question the whole firm, spreading rumours about us being anti-American with links to Al-Qaeda. The type of stuff we could never recover from. You understand?

I’m starting to. Go on.

You probably didn’t think of all these ramifications when you were sat there swathed in orange, navel gazing, which is fine—I’m not blaming you Jack. Your priority was getting your mind back, but I had to think quickly at this end to deal with the mess. As soon as I got your email I had to establish who else knew. I figured it was just Lucy and you family, right?

Correct. I wasn’t exactly in a chatty mood

Terrific. So I covered all bases. Your father, Lucy and I convened a Jack Task Group to keep each other posted on what we knew and discuss our plan of attack. If you hadn’t come back by the end of the month we were going to come over and spring you the heck out of there. I have to admit I was kinda looking forward to being part of your crack squad. I don’t get so many adventures these days but trust me I’m happier to see you here of your own accord.

A colossal grin hijacks my face as I imagine the three of them loping around the depths of India in search of me. Freaking hilarious.

I’m glad it amuses you Jack, though we did have some splendid dinners planning what to tell everyone. Lucy’s a remarkable girl you know. We decided that you’d had an accident paragliding in the Himalayas. It sounded much more Jack, you being injured as a tough action hero. We thought you’d appreciate that touch. So as far as everyone is concerned you’ve been nursing a broken leg at India’s finest hospital, being treated like a Maharaja courtesy of yours truly.

Ah, that explains those cryptic emails wishing me a speedy recovery.

Frank’s face convulsed in fear. You didn’t reply to any of them Jack did you?

Of course not. I thought they were being major league assholes.

Thank God for that. He said, discharging a weighty sigh. It looks like we got away with it. Good work Jack.

Thanks. Is that all?

Almost. I appreciate that things got pretty tricky for you back there, and I understand why. Like I say, there’s no blame on you whatsoever. But just promise that if things start to get tough for you again you’ll let me know. I know some of the best shrinks. Losing you to the opposition would be difficult enough, but losing you to the Hari Krishnas, well that would be unbearable.

I grunt uh huh more out of tiredness than anything else.

So Jack, I want to give you a welcome back present. I’ve signed you up for a short programme at The Fields. Apparently they are the best in the country at helping you get your mind in A1 condition.

The Fields? But that’s a clinic Frank. Thanks but no thanks—I don’t need it. Apart from the jet lag I’m feeling great.

But there must still be some underlying issues with Lucy you need to clear up, and I’m sure the transition from India back to reality will be more difficult that you think. You’re fresh off the plane, so it’s too early for you to see how you’ve changed. But trust me, I see. This week of relaxation will prepare you for whatever the world throws your way. I want you to accept this gift from me, as your friend.

Hang on a minute Frank. I might seem a little fuggy headed to you right now, but my mind feels a hundred times sharper than it’s ever been. And what’s more I even learnt some stuff at the ashram we could use in our campaigns.

That’s great. We can talk about that after The Fields—if you still feel the same.

Frank, seriously I don’t need it. Save your money.

He put his hand on my shoulder to stop me stepping into the path of the airport bus.

Remember we drive on the right here.

Thanks.

Now I didn’t want to have to say this to you Jack, but this trip to the Fields, it’s not optional. I’m suggesting you go as your friend—I honestly think it would do you the world of good. But as your boss I’m insisting you attend before you set foot back in the office.

Welcome home Jack. Buddy. I feel a headache coming on. Maybe I should jump the next flight back to Asia.

Natalie

I knew I was in India but couldn’t work out whether it was heaven or hell. I gazed up at the menagerie of animal gods whose pictures and statues guarded the temple walls and pleaded with them to be on my side for once. I tried to figure out whether their smiles were genuine, or whether they were all part of some elaborate scam developed by the natives to trick us colonials out of our money and clothes.

Guruji was trying to settle my nerves.

We’ve talked about this before Natalie. I thought you were serious about gaining enlightenment.

And I was trying to settle his I am Guruji, I am.

And you seem to have settled in quickly to life here, you’re like one of our family already. We love having you here. You don’t want to leave us do you?

I never want to leave.

Why would I—this was the best family I’d ever had.

And you trust me don’t you?

Of course. I lied.

One hundred per cent?

One hundred and one per cent In for a penny, in for a pound after all. Just tell me what I have to do.

It’s just like we discussed. You remember the ways I can share my energy with you, don’t you?

Of course Guruji.

So remind me, what was the first?

The first is the blessing, the puja, like you’ve given me every day.

And you feel my energy when I bless you?

I do. I did.

But you asked for more.

Right, I can feel a special glow after, but then it fades. I need something stronger. That’s why I tried the second option, the blessed food.

And remind me, how was that?

Amazing. The lychees were magical, as soon as I popped one in my mouth I felt my energy shift, but it was very subtle, not the kundalini energy explosion I need.

And then?

Then you gave me the mantra—ra ma da sa sa say so hung—which I’ve been chanting 108 times every hour for the past fortnight. Once I even chanted it for twenty hours non-stop. It made my body tingle like mad, but I could feel there was still some block.

So?

Then you gave me the yantra, this necklace which I’ve worn ever since. I feel so much lighter when I wear it, but something inside tells me there is still a problem.

You’re a very intuitive woman Natalie. You’re right of course. Your root chakra still has a big blockage from that man. As we discussed, this problem you’re experiencing has been repeated over many lifetimes and will keep recurring into eternity unless we do something. But it’s going to take some effort. To clear it we need to go for the final option—direct transmission.

Are you sure that’s the only option? I don’t know if I’m ready.

It’s the only other way I can help you. And you’re more advanced than you think. I wouldn’t take this step if you couldn’t handle it. You trust me, right?

Right. Whatever.

This is a very auspicious date for our union. If we start today we shouldn’t need more than five or six sessions to unblock this chakra.

I know.

So what’s the problem?

Nothing I guess. But there’s so much we haven’t discussed. Like whether you’ll use a condom? Or whether I should just lie back and accept your energy or whether you need me to be active.

Natalie dear, of course we don’t use a condom. It’s direct transmission. How would that be possible?

I’m not sure. I thought it was just your energy you were transmitting. But you’re sure it’s safe?

Totally safe. I can see the future remember. I know exactly what I’m doing, trust me. And don’t think so much, just do what comes naturally. Tune in to your body, let go of the mind.

I have that nagging feeling something isn’t quite right. But then again what the bloody hell am I being so precious about? He’s not the first person to have access to my body. But he’s definitely the first one to promise heaven as the reward and mean it. What do I have to lose?

Okay. I’m ready. What should I do?

I’ll take a shower to prepare. Whilst I’m gone take all your clothes off, light the candle on the altar, put this ash on your left nipple, then lie down on the rug and focus on your breath. In that order. We’ll begin the ceremony on my return.

Okay.

And Natalie? Don’t look so scared. This is one of the universe’s best-kept secrets. There is absolutely nothing to be worried about, trust me. Soon you’ll be glowing from the inside out.

I bloody hope so.

Priya

I wake up to hear myself happily chirping Today is my favourite day. Today is my favourite day. Today is my favourite day…

What idiot came up with that stupid idea? Ah yes, that would be me. Idiot that I am. But today I don’t want to be chirpy and happy. Today I just want to sleep so I stretch my arm out of the duvet to hit snooze and shut myself up.

No, no, no. what am I thinking of? Priya Mistry how can you be so negative? You are no idiot. This IS your favourite day. How could it not be? It is today, it is now, the only real thing to exist. Thank you voice of Priya for gently reminding me, thank you alarm clock for waking me up! Thank you world for another new day. Thank you sun for rising. Thank you moon and stars for sparkling on us all night long. Thank you everyone and everything in the universe for being.

Thank you for the air I breathe. Thank you for the oxygen in my lungs. Thank you for my lungs, which help me breathe. Thank you for my heart, which pumps blood around my body. Thank you for my eyes, which show me the beauty of the world. Thank you for my mouth, which lets me talk and eat and smile and kiss. Thank you for my ears, which allow me to listen to the bird’s sweet morning songs. Thank you for my legs, which move me wherever I need. Thank you for my hands, with which I write, eat, and cook.

With each step I take to the bathroom I offer thanks. Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you…

I stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. My hair has knotted in the night so it looks like I have a giant lump above my left ear and my eyes are so puffy that I struggle to gaze into them at all, let alone lovingly. Despite this I try to connect to my basic goodness.

I am beauty. I am peace. I am happy. I am healthy. I am love. I am joy. I am wisdom. I am bliss. I am whole. I am perfect. I am strong. I am powerful. I am filled with energy every single day. I already have everything I need. I already have everything I need.

The spell works—I feel like a princess, a skipping princess. A skipping princess who’s just tripped over the cat. Eek!

Bugger! Stupid cat. Stupid idiot me.

—oh bugger, no. I mean, thank you—oh wondrous pussycat—for showing me, gorgeous lovely Priya, that I need to work harder on my awareness. Oh boy.

Sabine

I never realised how many memories a scrap of cloth could hold, that a few threads of dyed cotton could tug so violently on my heart. Especially as I only wore it for a few hours, many years ago. Or did I suspect that might be the case? Was that why I hid the dress so deep in the wardrobe that I could never stumble across it by chance?

I’d read all about little black dresses in her copies of Cosmopolitan and spent hours daydreaming of how one day I would wear one to dinner in some fancy restaurant accompanied by a gorgeous hunk. I’d learnt they were the perfect outfit for every occasion, if accessorised correctly. I thought my first little black dress would become my best friend and I’d wear it until it fell apart. If only.

The last shopping trip we ever made together was in search of such a dress. It seemed the ideal choice for Andreas’ brother’s wedding. She wanted an outfit that would appear classy enough for his family to consider her a prospective wife, but at the same time so hot that Andreas’s eyes couldn’t stray for a second. We spent the entire afternoon dipping in and out of Ku’Damm’s shops. I loved watching her slip from her jeans into these silk and cotton sculptures. It was like seeing Cinderella transformed time and time again, but my feet were pleased when we found the perfect one. It was simple and chic at the front, not too much cleavage but cut perfectly to draw Andreas’ eyes to her curves. And if his gaze ever left these then the back was so cute and low he would melt for sure. We both agreed she had to buy it.

Sweetie, if this doesn’t win his heart for good nothing ever will, she said as she put a deposit down. Now it’s your turn to look pretty.

But I don’t need a dress. I’ve got nowhere to go.

You don’t actually need to buy anything, silly. It’s just for fun. I’m curious how they’ll look on you. You’re starting to blossom, beautiful one.

So I tried a few on, and she was right—it was great fun.

Wow, who’s this sophisticated woman? And where’s Sab gone? I’m impressed. You look more gorgeous than I’d ever imagined. You’re going to be a real heartbreaker you know.

I instantly decided I’d ask Papa to buy the dress for my birthday. I desperately wanted to be the person she described.

I’m learning that life never turns out how you want, no matter how much you desire it. We had such big dreams that day, but in the end I was the one with the broken heart. As for the dresses, hers never made it out of the shop whereas I got a chance to wear mine far too soon. And my dress and me never became friends. In fact, following its debut I imprisoned it at the back of my wardrobe where it’s waited like a vulture for another dead body. And now it has it.

I still can’t get over the email from Luca. I knew India was dangerous. When I told Papa about my travel plans he warned me how many tourists die there each year. I can’t blame him for worrying after what happened to her, but it seemed so abstract. India’s such a massive place I figured some people are bound to have accidents, but I never expected it to happen to anyone I knew. At worst I thought one of our silent gang might be pushed to the edge of sanity. I never expected that one of us wouldn’t make it back at all.

It’s incredible that the dress still fits after all this time, although that’s not so surprising given that my body’s contours are still closer to the marshy mudflats of the Baltic than her fabled Alpine curves. But it looks so different somehow. It’s strange to think it’s the same person inside. Or is it? Am I really any stronger than I was? I haven’t been to another funeral since so have no idea how hard it will be. Will I dissolve in tears again? Have I developed enough wisdom and strength to get me through? I guess I’ll see tomorrow.

It feels like I’ve come such a long way these past few months, but the touch of this fabric on my skin makes it all seem so real again. I can almost smell my pain. I don’t want to regress but wearing this dress jolts me straight to the closing scene of the movie.

I’m sat at the table, looking as together as I can manage, refusing to cry. I think Uncle Michael was talking to me, but I wasn’t listening to a word he said. He couldn’t see that I was in a different universe. I was working out what deals I could make to bring her back, figuring who I needed to speak to—God or the Devil—and what they might demand from me. I’d happily have sacrificed the entire population of Africa if that was what it took to have her back in my life, even for a single day. I guess it’s a good job the universe ignored my pleas.

The hurt, the grasping was so strong those months. I could hardly breathe. It took so much effort and so many years to drag myself out of it. I know I’m not a hundred per cent there yet but I’m somewhere better that’s for sure. I’m just so fricking scared of being pulled under again. Be strong Sabine, be strong.

PART TWO

BEFORE THE SILENCE

Chapter Two

Natalie

I should have seen that coming. Arsehole. Loser. It’s always the same. Natalie Parsons, good for a shag or two but nothing more. I must have Fuck me then chuck me tattooed on my bloody forehead. I can’t believe I thought he was the one. I can be such a stupid cow. I really thought he was something special, that he might bring a little happiness my way at last. God knows I deserve some.

I might not be a supermodel, but it’s not as if he was Mr Perfect either. I put up with a hell of a lot from him. Jesus H Christ his legs were inexplicably out of proportion, like some freaky photo-fit, with long thighs and short fat hairy calves. And those ghastly shiny brown shoes. Lordy give me strength. I was almost sick every time I caught a glimpse of those babies. I had to strategically throw my clothing over them when we had sex otherwise I could never have gone through with it. And that bloody broken chair in his room. What was that all about? Just like Joan of Bloody Arc I accepted all of the above with hardly a comment. And what do I get in return, I get dumped.

He was so considerate when we met—calling me daily to see how I was and surprising me with picnics, presents and homemade carrot cake. I had such high hopes it would carry on like that forever. But no, the real surprise was that he’s just like all the rest, just using me for sex I guess and then when he had his fun he packed up and moved on. That’s not what he said of course.

He started well, Babe, you’re beautiful, and funny and sexy, so I knew there was going to be a but— and I was right. It went like this—

But I just can’t see us working out in the long term. The thing is you’re too committed to saving the world. I guess I just want someone who has time and energy left for the person in front of them, the person they come home to, the person they share their life with. I don’t want to end up becoming jealous of the impoverished Peruvians.

What an utterly ridiculous thing to say. The impoverished Peruvians are way down my people to help list.

What am I supposed to do—those people need me. You’ll see that I was right when the world comes crashing to an end. You’ll wish you helped me rather than bailing out on humanity. You’ll realise how selfish you were. The future of mankind is far more important than one woman’s love for her man.

He left. I guess he doesn’t want to take on the responsibility of saving the world. Typical bloke.

Thinking about it he’d been acting a bit distant since my birthday. That day started perfectly. He’d turned up at my work like some Mills and Boon hero, with flowers, a sparkly diamond bracelet and a promise to take me somewhere special for dinner. All the customers at Nice’n’Natural cheered his performance and old Bert hollered from behind the organic cheeses Cor, you got one in a million there Nat. Get him up the aisle as quick as you can.

I thanked Rob with a great big kiss. The thought was nice even if the presents weren’t.

How ethical are these flowers babe? Did you ask where they come from? If they’re from Holland I can’t accept them. Kenya yes, but Holland no.

Erm, I didn’t ask. I’ll go back and check with the lady in the shop if you want. And are you sure you want them from Kenya? I’d have thought they were the least ethical, I mean surely they’d have to be flown in?

Yes, please check. I won’t have Dutch roses—they use six times as much carbon as the Kenyan ones because they’re grown in energy gobbling greenhouses. Haven’t you heard of the greenhouse effect? You understand, don’t you? I simply can’t go around doing one thing and saying another just because it suits you.

I understand. He unclasped the bracelet and attempted to snap it on me, but I managed to pull my hand away in the nick of time.

What’s the problem Nat, don’t you like it?

I love it—it’s utterly gorgeous—but I need to know the history of the diamonds. You read so much about blood diamonds, and all those poor child soldiers don’t you. I just couldn’t live with myself if someone died to make me glisten.

Babe, it was my Gran’s. She gave it to me when I turned eighteen and told me to keep it for someone special. I’m sure it’s ethical and it would mean a lot if you wore it.

I’m not sure. I haven’t heard of many ethical nineteenth century diamond mines. It’s probably from slaves. But I guess it’s too late to do anything about that now. I mean if anyone died making it, then they’d have died by now anyway, even if they’d lived. So as it means so much to you I’ll make an exception here. But be more careful in future, won’t you.

Certainly. Pick you up at seven?

Perfect.

He turned up that evening with a letter from the florist assuring me the roses were from Kenya and tickets to the new play at the Arcola—such a gent. It was a fantastic performance, full of African dancers lamenting the horrors of slavery and celebrating freedom. My favourite song was about the slave who got rich and made all the former landowners work for him. He was jumping over their backs, whirling round the stage, whipping them and beating them until they pleaded for mercy. Just my cup of tea.

However it went totally tits up after that. I’d been expecting him to take me to the organic café by the canal, the one that’s run as a social enterprise, has ethical cola and even fizzes its own tap water. He knows it’s my favourite. But no, he’d booked some swanky Hoxton place. Apparently it had a rave review in The Guardian. He’d had to call a few favours in to get us a table. He said that all the celebs eat there, but I didn’t spot anyone.

It was a beautiful room—all chandeliers and shabby chic décor. I wasn’t sure about the stuffed foxes’ heads on the wall above us but I was very touched he’d gone to all that trouble for me. I can’t remember anyone making me feel so special before. But—and it’s a big fat stinking but—there was nothing on the menu I could eat. Not one single dish.

Rob was trying hard, bless him. What’s wrong with the salad?

It’s got goats cheese in it.

But you can have that can’t you? It’s not from cows. Honestly.

And the soup? That fancy cream of mushroom one sounds delicious.

CREAM! I may have been losing it a little by this point. But it drives me a little crazy when people can’t be bothered to think about what vegan really means, about how hard life actually is for us. It’s not some stupid fashion diet where you can’t eat food beginning with a vowel for god’s sake. Just nothing made from the suffering of animals. Easy peasy.

At this point the maitre’d came over to help, but he couldn’t give any guarantees that no animals, or people, had been harmed in the making of the food.

How on earth did Gwyneth Paltrow manage to find something to eat here?

I think the menu may have been different that day. Either that or she’s not as strict as you, Madam. I suspect the latter.

And it wasn’t just the food. Rob got upset that I wouldn’t have a sip of the ethical champagne he’d ordered. I can’t remember how many times I’ve told him that no wines can ever be ethical. I mean there’s starving people all over the world who could eat those grapes. Is he stupid? So I just ended up with some dry bread and tap water watching Rob enjoy his soup and salad. What a miserable birthday. Especially as the bill was astronomical despite my hunger pains. You would have thought Rob would have been pleased I hardly ate a thing, but he wasn’t. He hardly spoke a word on the way home. Maybe it would have been better if he’d said nothing at all. Then we wouldn’t have had that stupid argument.

As we sat on the bus he mustered a pathetic C’mon Nat, stop sulking. It’s not like I took you to McDonalds is it?

I think you’ll find I could have at least had a cup of coffee there. They source that from Central American fair trade co-operatives, Robert. And maybe I could have even eaten something there.

Get yerself a bloody Happy Meal then. He shoved a fiver into my hand. I’m out of here.

Nope, things were definitely never quite the same after that.

Actually, now I think about it maybe he wasn’t so perfect. It wasn’t just the funny legs, the vomit inducing shoes and that bloody broken chair. A proper boyfriend would never leave his girlfriend alone on the number 243 at midnight, would he? Especially not on her birthday.

After Rob had stormed off the bus I’d had to do some chanting to regain my inner balance, but that only made things worse. The Turkish couple sat opposite started to stare at me like I was crazy and after a few rounds of Om Namo Shivaya the old decrepit Caribbean man in front of me moved to sit near the driver. He must have said something because, at the next stop, the driver cut the engine and came over to me.

Madam I hear you’ve been disturbing the other passengers. Please could you stay silent or get off the bus. This isn’t the sodding X-factor.

What choice did I have? I won’t stay where I’m not wanted, so I got off, but not before setting a few things straight.

I was actually chanting an ancient Sanskrit mantra for world peace. I was trying to help you, to purify the bus, to cleanse your bad karma. I’d have thought that being Indian you’d have known all about that.

He muttered something about being Muslim and from Pakistan, but I think that was just for effect. He looked pretty darned Hindu to me. So that was my birthday fiasco. All Rob’s bloody fault. No, he doesn’t deserve any more of my tears. Onwards and upwards girl. Mr Right must be just around the next corner.

I’m positive Rob wasn’t telling me the truth—men never do. There’s bound to have been another girl involved, someone with a rich family, a flat stomach, arms free from bingo wings and only one chin. That sounds about right. I bet they’re already talking about getting married and having children. Maybe I should follow him home from work tomorrow, and find out who she is. I bet they’ve been having a good laugh at my expense for a while now. Arseholes.

Nope, Nat, don’t get caught up in it. He’s not worth it. Remember all that palaver with Tim. The police said I was a whisker away from going to jail. I reckon it was just one of his friends trying to scare me, but just in case, I’d better not.

Be positive Nat. Now I have time to catch up with the girls. I haven’t seen anyone for months what with work, Rob and getting Stokie’s Climate Avengers group up and running. I’ll try calling Sarah, she’s always at a loose end and desperate for company. She’s sure to be up for a drink… No answer. Strange. Maybe Carol? She’s never got much going on either, a bit dull but usually loyal.

Hey babe, how’s life with you? I just split up with Rob and could do with a shoulder to cry on. Shall I pop over with a bottle of wine?

"Sorry. Who is this? I wiped my contacts list so don’t have a clue who