"I need to go to the US again". My husband says this quietly, as he knows the reaction he will get. It used to be melodramatic - I'd mope and I'd wail that he'd forsaken me, and he'd fix me with a look and say, "I don't like it either. Do you want me to quit my job? I'd do it tomorrow if you asked me." And I'd sulk and say, no, I like having a house and money to go on holidays and all that kind of stuff. These days, I stick out my bottom lip a little and I say, "When?". And then we get out our Blackberries and we look at our work calendars and we try to be practical, to co-ordinate when would be best for him to be away, but inside I feel empty and sad, although I know it has to be done. The night before he goes away, I pass him a plug adaptor to put in his suitcase and I say to him, "I once read that Paul McCartney and Linda McCartney only spent one week apart during their whole life together". And he looks at me and h...
... Burmese food and beyond