Mobi-Babble

Last year I posted a selection of snaps on my blog which I had taken – on what was then a very short daily walk – no more than ten minutes max – usually up to the nearby 7/11  and back home again.  So I have decided that is time to publish a more  comprehensive pictorial narrative of the area in which I live and where I take my daily walks.

These days, our (my and Noo’s) daily exercise has expanded to encompass two, much longer, alternative routes for our daily walk. The first route takes us in a southerly direction, up to the 7/11 and then into the grounds of  Wat Khao Por Thong – which has some very attractive buildings and some lovely trees –  out the other side, to walk around the Lake to the Rendevous bar/restaurant complex. The return leg simply retraces our steps, and this walk probably takes us about 45 minutes.

The alternative route takes us briefly around the lake in a northerly direction before taking a right turn away from the Lake, then right again on a little lane, parallel to the lake along a pleasant, leafy traffic free- diversion, before once more joining the lakeside road again.

The outward leg finishes in the area where the long boats are stored, opposite the Lakeside Restaurant. The return leg takes us past the ‘Fishermans Rest’, and thence back home, a journey which, walking at quite a steady pace, takes us around 40 minutes.

Upon reaching our home, we collect the three dogs and take them for a 10- 15 minute walk around the village paved roads, so by the time we have completed our day’s exercise, we have been walking for nigh on an hour.

It has been a good work-out for me and I have now lost about 10 kilos in weight and feel a lot fitter. I know that the first tranche of weight loss is always the easiest and, as expected,  my weight is now stubbornly staying at around 90 kilos.  I would dearly love to lose at least another 8 kilos – ideally 10 – to get me back where I was some 10 years ago, but I know it is going to be tough.

I am ever more careful with my diet, but I am now coming to the conclusion that the next phase of my weight-reduction efforts will require me to start jogging. I found out many years ago that there is nothing like jogging to get the pounds off stubbornly tubby mid-riffs. You can try every type of diet/exercise plan till you are blue in the face; you can hire personal trainers and do all manner of aerobic exercise on all manner of high tech machines, but all that is really required is a daily jogging routine of at least 25 minutes and a sensible eating routine– no cakes, sweets, deserts etc, no sugared drinks, and avoiding excessive fat in food.

So next week I will try to do a bit of jogging, starting off with just a minute or two – intermingled with my daily walking – gradually trying to increase the jogging time. The last time I embarked on this path I was 54 years old, and now I am 65 so it might prove a bit more difficult to achieve, but I won’t know if I don’t try. Either way, I now accept that if I am to get fit and stay fit, I must allot an hour of each day to some form of exercise which hopefully I can continue to do, well into my old age.

Mobi’s Lakeside photos.

I took these pics below over a couple of days, and  hopefully it gives you a better idea of  why I have a particular fondness for this beautiful lake and for this little ‘neck of woods’.

Wat Khao Por Thong

and it’s magnificent tree…

Any ideas, anyone? Noo is terrified of them...

We have passed this poor mutt many times, always sitting in the same spot...

Looks like a nice country home - from what I can see of it

It has a gorgeous, leafy, English-style garden

Back to the Lake

I had to cross the road to get the boat in my shot - it is soooo long...

A lakeside sheltered seat, one of many being placed around the lake.

Canoeing anyone?

Nice restaurant: Good ambience, good food, but slightly pricey and the service leaves a little to be desired…

A recently landscaped area of Lakeside

A 'Thai' karaoke Bar...

'Something' under construction - I hope it turns out better than it looks right now...

11 Kilometres to Pattaya City

Memorial to one of the many bikers who have tragically died in accidents on this road

One of the very first bars by the Lake, and also with one of the best views

One of the Lakeside 'Mansions' - and also, like most of them, up for sale...this one, a cool 23M Baht!

One of the upmarket, Lakeside housing 'villages'.

As the sign says, this road takes you eastwards away from the Lake to yet another Wat and a nearby village.

This ‘Chippy’Started off life as a Mini- market, graduated to a ‘cheapo’ beer stop, and now has the best fish’n'chips around the Lake – enormous portions too….

Yet another, Lakeside 'village'.

and another ...

Back in Mobi's village, taking the dogs for their evening constitutional...

Noo, Yoghurt, Somchai and Cookie

Poor Cookie, resting her aching hips...

BUTT…BUTT…BUTT…I don’t give a hoot!…

Today, I am publishing chapters 1 through 5 of ‘Part Two –Ying’ of my novel.

As mentioned in my last blog, I have now re-indexed the novel and I have broken up the story into much shorter chapters. The original Chapter One, is now ‘Part One – Na’ and now contains 11 separate chapters. These can be found in their entirety bu clicking the above, appropriately titled  tab. It is the same text as before, with maybe some very minor, mainly syntax amendments, so no need for those who have already read the old ‘Chapter One’ to re-read it – unless of course you wish to…☺

‘Part Two – Ying’ is not yet complete, and of the five chapters published below, chapters 1 through 3 were previously published as part of the old Chapter Two, and chapters 4 and 5 are completely new.

My new chapters are generally around 3,000 – 5,000 words in length and this makes it easier for me to set myself achievable targets. I seem to be someone who needs definable targets for all aspects of my life, otherwise, procrastination sets in.

After much experimentation, I have settled into a good routine of publishing two blogs a week, (except occasionally when I am out of town or some other event takes up my time), and I am now aiming to write a minimum of one chapter of my novel per week – possible even two on some weeks to compensate for those weeks when I may fall short.

Hopefully, if I stick to these targets, I will get my novel well and truly finished by mid-year. Let’s see.

I think I have mentioned this before, but in case I haven’t, I will publish newly completed chapters of my novel on days other than my regular blog days, so tomorrow I will publish my semi-weekly blog, as usual.

Anyway, here are Chapters 1 – 5 of  ‘Part Two – Ying’; I hope you are enjoying the story so far….

A LUSTFUL GENTLEMAN

PART TWO – ‘YING’

CHAPTER I

Ying turned her little Jazz into her driveway and drove slowly up the long driveway and under the carport. The car stereo was blaring out so loudly that when she opened the front door of the car, it sounded like one of those mobile discos; the ones that drive along Pattaya’s roads at night, blaring out music with such ear-splitting intensity that bystanders can barely even think, let alone hear themselves speak. The deafening pop music reverberated harshly across the peaceful, still night. Until Ying’s abrupt arrival, the only sounds to be heard were those of the toads in a nearby pond, emitting their repetitive mating calls.

She cut the ignition and suddenly the world returned to its state of somnolence and once more the toads held pride of place in the humid night air. Ying unlocked the side door to the house, dumped her handbag on the dining table and then summoned up one last burst of energy to climb up the central staircase, enter her enormous bedroom and collapse, fully clothed, on her bed. She lay there for a few minutes, unable to move. She had been drinking but was not wholly drunk – she had drunk just enough to make her woozy and very sleepy.

It had been a very long day. She had been woken before 8 a.m. that morning by the girl who usually opened her hair dressing salon, with the news that she was sick and would not be able to make it in to work that day. As a result, Ying had only had about four hours sleep and it had taken all her will power to drag herself out of bed, take a quick shower before jumping into her car and make it to her salon before the regular opening time of 9 a.m.

She had spent the whole day there and at around 8 p.m. when the final customer had finally left, she had driven to a friend’s house where they had spent the next seven hours playing cards and sipping Bacardi Breezers. By three a.m, Ying was down about three hundred Baht and she decided to call it a night. She would have to get up early, yet again, to open her shop in the morning.

She roused herself briefly – just long enough to pull off her jeans and top before collapsing once more onto her bed in her underwear. She lay there for a few minutes with her eyes closed, but for some reason sleep wouldn’t come, a problem she often encountered when she was over-tired and feeling tipsy. She was so tired but her mind kept going round and round.

What sort of life was this? Living in this huge house virtually all alone? It was far too big and it was a daily battle to keep it in in a half way decent state on a minimal budget, while at the same time trying to start a business that was struggling to break even. It was all a bit of a nightmare; now that her assistant was ill, so she wouldn’t even get a decent night’s sleep.

But the longer she lay there, in her heart she knew that on this day she would never make it to her salon much before noon. She was just too tired. She idly speculated on how many customers she might lose if she had yet another unscheduled closure. It had been difficult enough to attract customers in the first place, and for sure, if any of her regulars came in the morning and found her closed, they would not come back. There were simply too many other hair salons in the vicinity for them to remain faithful to a place that kept closing without warning. What a mess!

She curled up with her favourite cuddly panda in the enormous four- poster bed, but still she couldn’t sleep. It was a strange journey indeed that had brought her to this point in her life: thirty four year’s old, living in a huge house, with a nice car in the driveway, but almost perpetually broke. Her estranged husband, Toby, barely sent her enough money to cover the utility bills; she knew that he was also financially distressed and very soon, even that cash stream would probably dry up. There was no way they were going to be able to sell their jointly owned house in the foreseeable future. The market was dead – no one was buying. It was a veritable ‘albatross’ around both of their necks. If they succeeded in selling it, they could both move on with their lives, but as it was, they were both broke and unable to make the clean break that they both yearned for.

Finally, she dozed off. She drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep for a few exquisite minutes when she was rudely awakened by the screeching sound of a Thai rock song, piercing the blessed silence of the early morning. She slowly regained consciousness, wondering for a moment where the music was coming from. Then she knew; it was coming from her phone – her mobile phone was ringing.

She reached out blindly, grabbed hold of the phone and without looking at who was calling, she put it to her lips. ‘Hello.’

‘Hello, Khun Ying?’

‘Yes. Who is that?’

‘This is Pattaya Police station, I am Lieutenant Somkid. We would like you to come here immediately.’

‘Why? Why? What is it? What have I done?’

‘You have done nothing – it’s your husband. We want you to come here and see us about your husband. He is in a lot of trouble.’

‘My husband! He doesn’t live with me anymore. He left me ages ago! I can’t come – I’m not free!’

‘Khun Ying, if you don’t come here and help your husband, he will be in very serious trouble. He will go to jail.’

‘I don’t care! I don‘t care! Fuck my fucking husband! I don’t care what happens to him. I told him! I warned him! I don’t care what happens to him!’

‘Khun Ying, if you don’t come down her immediately and help him, your husband might even die.’

‘I don’t fucking care!’ Let him fucking die!’

She cut off the call, turned off her phone, and closed her eyes, praying that sleep would come back again and blot out the images in her mind.

‘Fuck Toby. Fuck him…fuck him… fuck him…’

Despite the air-conditioning, she suddenly broke out in a sweat. ‘Oh No, not again!’ she said out aloud. ‘Please not again…’

In spite of her antipathy, she suddenly worried about what horrors may befall her errant husband… her fucking husband. Surely that fucking cop didn’t mean it literally? Why should Toby die? But she continued to fret. Die ? No, surely not…she had already seen too many deaths in her life to contemplate yet another one.

PART TWO – CHAPTER II

Ying was sitting cross legged, at one end of a huge, roughly hewn wooden table cum workbench, which served as part cooking area, part sleeping area, part drinking area and part living area; which has such a ubiquitous presence in the rural Thai villages. It was the central meeting and gathering area for the occupants and friends of any particular abode.

This particular ‘family bench’ was probably around two meters in length by about one and a half meters wide and covered the entire shaded area in front the modest, two room single storey wooden house that had been the only home Ying had known for the entire eight years of her young life. It was a home that she shared with her mother, younger sister and two younger brothers.

Barely ten minutes ago, she had arrived home from her long, daily walk from school; but already she was hard at it, preparing the vegetables for the family’s evening meal which she would soon start cooking for the five of them – possibly six, if her father decided to stay and eat with them.

She looked across to the far end of the table where her father was also sitting cross-legged in an alcohol-fuelled conversation with one of his drinking cronies from the village. Both of them were well into their ‘cups’. Ying had noticed one empty bottle of Mekong whisky on the ground near to them and a second bottle was already half empty. The two men sat facing each other on the table, the space between them occupied by the whisky bottle, along with a dirty ice bucket and some empty soda water bottles.

Her father snarled at his daughter, ‘Ying! Get me another bottle of soda!’

She jumped up and ran to the side of the house where a half empty case of soda bottles was standing and grabbed a couple of bottles and quickly delivered them to the two men.

The drunken man barely acknowledged her existence as she put down the bottles and returned to her cooking chores. Mama would soon return from the rice fields where she toiled daily at her back- breaking, twelve hour shift in the flooded paddies – up to her chest in the warm, mosquito-ridden water. Ying’s two brothers and baby sister were inside the crudely built house, watching a small black and white television in the corner of the room. They would all be very hungry.

As poor as there were, there weren’t many families in her village who enjoyed the luxury of a television, and on most evenings, a large crowd of villagers would descend on their humble abode for a couple of hours to watch the nightly ‘soap operas’ put out by the only two Thai Channels they were able to tune into from their somewhat isolated neck of the woods.

Ying wasn’t sure whether she should be grateful or resentful of the fact that her father was one of the ‘big wigs’ in the village and had been able to provide them with a coveted TV. She knew well enough that there were many occasions when they wouldn’t see him for days – sometimes weeks – when he would disappear, without warning. On such occasions, the sparse food money he occasionally gave her mother would dry up completely. Sometimes, they wouldn’t eat for several days and it was for this reason that her mother had recently started to work in the paddy fields, as a sort of protection against the vagaries of her common law husband’s largesse.

One of Ying’s friends from the village had told Ying that her father had several other ‘wives’ in a nearby village and that when he disappeared, he would go and stay with them. She wasn’t sure of the truth of these stories, but suspected they were probably true. She did know for sure that her father was not a very nice person. Often, he would return home very drunk and pick a fight with her mother, beating her mercilessly. On more than one occasion her mother had been so badly beaten that they had to call for a doctor to treat her injuries. He had even hit Ying and her brothers on the odd occasion, so whenever they realised that he was particularly drunk, they would do their best to keep out of his way. But no one would dare to say a word to him about his brutal behaviour. He was a very powerful, well-connected, ‘mafia-type’ figure and everyone seemed in awe of him. No one had the courage stand up to him.

Ying could see that her father was getting very drunk and feared that it wouldn’t be long before trouble started. She wanted to warn her mother to stay away but she didn’t know how to go about it. If she left off from her food preparation, her father might get angry; he was so unpredictable. In the end she did nothing; she just sat there, working away and hoped that something would happen to take her father away from their home before her mother arrived back from work.

She couldn’t believe her luck. Almost at the very moment that she wished something would happen, a motorbike drove slowly down the narrow track which led to their house. She could clearly see one of her father’s friends driving the bike but she didn’t recognise the young man on the back. She assumed it was another member of her father’s ‘criminal-gang’. ‘Good,’ she thought, ‘maybe they are all going off to do a ‘job’ somewhere.’ That’s what usually happened when his low-life friends came to see him in the late afternoon.

The bike came to a halt outside the house, less than a meter from where her father and his drinking companion were sitting, but they didn’t get off. In fact, both men remained seated and the engine remained running. As Ying watched, she heard the man on the front yelling something angrily at her father, but he behaved as though nothing had happened. Deliberately ignoring the shouts from the motorbike driver, Ying’s father picked up his whisky glass to take another sip. As he put the glass to his lips, the angry driver shouted something to the youth behind him, whereupon the young pillion passenger lifted his right hand to reveal a handgun; the dark metal glistening in the late afternoon sun.

Although Ying hated her father, she suddenly felt a jolt of panic and revulsion at what was about to happen. But before she could even shout out a warning, the youth fired three shots – one after the other – at almost point blank range, into her father’s head and body. Her father had been so drunk that he hadn’t even seen the shots coming. The smoke was still clearing as the driver snapped his bike in gear, raced the accelerator and skidded his tyres on the dusty ground as the two killers sped away, out of the village.

She instinctively rushed over to her father’s slumped body, hoping against hope that he might have survived the violent attack, but one look at his head told her that it was all over. The bullet had taken half of her father’s face away and Ying stood transfixed, aghast at the grizzly sight. She started screaming, becoming hysterical as the villagers emerged from their nearby homes and rushed over to see what all the noise was about.

Into the midst of this commotion arrived Ying’s mother. Quickly taking in what had happened, her mother grabbed hold of her, and led her towards the house, just as her other children were emerging to see what was going on.

‘Go inside! All of you!’ her mother shouted, ‘and stay there until I say so,’

‘But Mama…’ Ying started to protest.

‘No, Ying, go inside and look after your brothers and sister.’ She shouted loudly at her.

Although Ying knew her mother to be a kindly woman who loved her children dearly, her hard life and difficult circumstances had given her a nasty temper. Woe betides anyone who tried to cross her or gainsay her when her ire was roused – except of course, her now deceased husband. But Ying always did what she was told when her mother was in this kind of mood, so she led her younger siblings back into the room and back to the television, dreading what disastrous effect this tumultuous event may have on their family’s fortunes.

***

#In her wildest dreams, Ying couldn’t have imagined quite how catastrophic the after effects of her father’s untimely death would actually turn out to be.

She stayed away from school on the day following her father’s killing, as had her mother from the rice fields. There were many things to sort out, least of which was the cremation of her father’s body. Her mother had no money to pay for a funeral and was wondering what on earth she was going to do when the problem was solved for her by the appearance of her husband’s elder brother and sister, who lived in the next village.

Ying had only seen her ‘in-laws’ once before – when her father had invited them to a big party he held in the village. She doubted her mother had seen them very often either, as on that occasion they had been very unfriendly and had virtually ignored them. So she had expected the worst when they suddenly turned up, but her misgivings were soon assuaged when she heard the brother tell Mama that her father’s family would assume full responsibility for her father’s funeral arrangements.

‘Mama, that’s god news. Now you can stop worrying about it.’

‘Ying, go inside the house, I have some things to discuss with these people,’ she told Ying who once again felt aggrieved at being dispatched away from the centre of action.

She reluctantly walked into the house and tried, without success, to overhear what was being discussed. But it wasn’t long before she realised that whatever they were talking about, it wasn’t good news. She could hear her mother’s raised voice and the responding loud voices of her father’s relatives. She knew that things were not going at all well.

At length, she heard her Mama shout out in anger and after a long pause, she started to cry. She heard the man bark something back at her mother and then there was a long silence. Ying sat, waiting for somebody to say something, becoming ever more fearful at what might have transpired between them, but no sound could be discerned. Eventually, she gingerly peered out of the house; all she could see was the sight of Mama, her head in her hands, weeping quietly to herself. There was no sign of the others. They must have gone.

‘Mama, what has happened? Where have they gone? Did they refuse to pay for father’s funeral after all?’

Her mother looked up bleary eyed at her daughter – incredibly mature for her young years. ‘Funeral, my love? Why yes, child, they will pay for the funeral, don’t worry about that.’

‘Oh that is good news Mama,’ Ying said with a smile. Isn’t it?’

‘Yes, my child, it is good news. But I’m afraid that we have to stay away. They have told me that we are not allowed to go to the Wat. If we do, then they will refuse to pay for the cremation.’

‘That’s terrible Mama, why won’t they let us go to father’s funeral? I don’t understand.’

The tired woman looked at her eldest daughter. She wasn’t sure if Ying would understand. ‘They don’t want us there, my child, because they say that I am not his real wife and that you and your brothers and sister are not his real children. They say that his real wife lives with them in the next village and it would bring a big shame on his family if we go to the funeral. They said that nobody wants us there.’

Ying tried to absorb all this confusing information. ‘What does it mean?’ she asked herself. ‘Why can’t Papa have two wives? I don’t understand. What does it matter if we go to the Wat and pay our respects to our father?’ She considered everything for a few moments, before finally speaking, seeking to reassure her mother.

‘So we can’t say goodbye to Papa. Never mind, Mama, please don’t cry. It doesn’t matter. Anyway, he wasn’t a very nice man, was he?’

Her mother looked at her daughter, lovingly. ‘No Ying, you are right; he wasn’t a very nice man,’ before bursting into a new flood of tears.

‘But Mama, Mama, if he wasn’t very nice, why are you crying? We don’t have to go to the Wat. It’s not so important. Please Mama, please don’t cry.’

Eventually, her tears stopped and she dried her eyes. ‘Ying, my child, I am not crying about your father’s funeral. Yes I want to go. He was an unkind and selfish  man, but  he was the only man I ever loved and her bore me four beautiful children – but that is not why I am crying. You don’t understand.’

‘Try me Mama, try me. Why then?

There was an even longer silence before the distressed woman finally explained the bombshell news to her daughter. ‘Because, my child; because Papa’s family have told me that we must leave our home. They say it belongs to them and they want it back.’

‘Leave our home! They can’t do that! Where will we go? Surely Papas’s family wouldn’t be so cruel to us…’

‘Yes, they would, my love. It belongs to your father and I wasn’t married to him – not properly – and they want it back. They don’t care about us. They hate us.’

‘Oh, Mama, why are people so bad? When must we leave?’

‘Tomorrow!’

‘Tomorrow! We can’t leave tomorrow! Where will we go?’

‘I don’t know, my love, I don’t know where we will go. I have no money to go anywhere.’

‘Then you must refuse to leave Mama, you must tell them we have to stay here until we find somewhere to go.’

‘I already told them that. That man – your uncle – he said if we don’t leave by tomorrow evening, he will bring the police and have us thrown out; and he means it, I know he does.’

‘But Mama, where will we go?’

‘I don’t know, Ying, I just don’t know…’

PART TWO – CHAPTER III

Ying sat with the rest of her fellow-villagers on the hard benches at the village Wat and stared at the ground.  Around her, the adults held their palms together in prayer and joined in the resonating incantations being chanted by the saffron robed monks, who were seated in front and to the left side of them on a long bench. The somnolent drone of the incomprehensible Pali prayers had almost caused her to drop off to sleep, but without warning, the chanting momentarily stopped and she looked up, wide awake once more.

At the centre of her deeply tanned, Issan face that was already showing signs of promised beauty to come, her cavernous, deep brown eyes, were transfixed on a point several meters in front of her. She stared at the raised plinth at the far end of the temple grounds, where, hidden from view, her beloved grandfather was lying in a large casket dressed in his finest traditional Thai clothes, awaiting his journey to the next life.

It was just yesterday that she had arrived back from school and was in the process of getting changed to join her mother for her late afternoon session in the nearby paddy fields, when her brother had come running into the house, with a message for her to go quickly to her grandfather’s home. Her worst fears had been confirmed; Granddad’s disease-ridden body had finally given up the unequal struggle  in his seventy fifth year on this earth – a worn out, skeleton of a man, who had lasted a lot longer than anyone could have reasonably expected, for he had been sick and infirm for several months.

To Ying, he was one of the few souls who had shown her kindness during the past few years of her brief but careworn life and although she had been expecting his death for some time, it came as a huge shock when she had rushed into his primitive room and found the poor old man, stiff and cold, lying on his dirty worn out mattress, his tattered, soiled clothes reeking of death and decay.

The next twenty-four hours had passed in a blur, and now here she was, at the village Wat, attending the last rites before her poor Granddad’s body was incinerated in the primitive crematorium.

She remained seated as the as the villagers around her rose to walk over and form a line in front of the plinth to pay their respects to one of the doyens of their humble village. ‘If it hadn’t been for Granddad, God knows what might have happened to me and my family when we arrived here from our previous home, some four years ago,’ she pondered to herself,

*

She would never forget that long journey of some twenty kilometres from the village where Papa was viciously murdered, to the village where her mother’s father – Ying’s grandfather – still lived. It had been in that village, some twelve years previously, that Ying’s father had first met her mother and had taken her away to live in his own village near to the Cambodian border, where his four children were subsequently born.

It seemed only yesterday that they had made that long, arduous trek, the five of them dressed in tatters, carrying all their worldly possessions, either balanced on their shoulders or piled perilously high on a primitive, two-wheeled cart, which they had borrowed from a neighbour. The trip took two exhausting days to complete, and at long last, the family had made it back to the place where Ying’s grandfather had made his home and where, some twelve years ago, Ying’s mother and father had first met.

Ying knew from her grandfather that Mama was originally from Chaiyaphoom, in the North-east of Thailand and that being desperately poor, she – along with many other Issan folk – had migrated to Sa Kaeo province to find work and start a new life. Thus, many villages in the area had become almost entirely populated by ethnic Issans, who all spoke Issan in their daily lives and had brought their Issan culture with them to this little part of Sa Kaeo province. But Ying’s father was an ethnic -Khmer, as were a majority of Sa Kaeo residents, given its proximity to Cambodia.

Ying then started to realise that there was another, more sinister reason why her mother and her family had been so hated in her father’s, Khmer-centric village. Who knows? It might have contributed to the reason he was killed, such was the hatred and distrust between the two cultures.

When they had arrived back at Granddad’s village some four years ago, they found him still in reasonable health, but eking out a poor existence as a field labourer. However, he did own a small plot of village land, which he had been smart enough to buy at a give-away price some years ago, when the previous owner had been desperate for money. Ying’s Grandmother had been dead for many years, and since then, he had lived alone in a small, makeshift house on stilts, which he had built himself. After his wife passed away, his needs were modest and he informed his daughter that she was welcome to take the remaining part of his unused land for her family to live on.

***

Ying was still rooted to the bench, now the only one left seated. ‘Come on Ying’, a village elder called out, breaking her reverie, ‘Come and pay respects to your Grandfather before we burn him’.

She rose as if a trance, without offering a word of acknowledgement, and joined the end of the line; but her mind was still in the dreams of yesterday.

*

The very next day after their arrival, her mother had gone to work in the rice paddy fields from dawn to dusk to earn sufficient money to feed her family. They now had to fend for themselves for much of the time; they had no money to build a house, and for many months the family had to make do with a few rusty sheets of corrugated iron, kindly donated by neighbours, which was fashioned into a lean-to.

Ying had returned to her village school and despite the harsh conditions under which she lived and the responsibilities she had to endure during the evenings and weekends, she continued to make good grades. Not only did she have to look after the family but she often had to join her mother working in the rice paddies to supplement their meagre income.

Ying’s mother may have been illiterate, but she was a canny woman and she soon realised that the land given to her by her father was worth more to her than just a place to build a home on.  So after months of battling through frustrating, bureaucratic ‘red tape’ at the local government offices –  particularly problematic given her illiteracy – and with the help of some village elders, the desperate mother finally succeeded in transferring Granddad’s parcel of land into her own name. 

She was then able to borrow some money from the local government bank, lodging her newly acquired land as security and utilised the money to build a rudimentary house for her family to live in. It was more of a shack than a house, but it did put a solid roof over their heads, and did provide them with a proper, albeit very basic, toilet. This was to be Ying’s family home for many years to come.

Since then – several years in fact – life had settled into a hard but relatively uneventful routine. Her younger sister and brothers had started school and her mother had continued to keep the finances afloat by her daily labour in the paddy fields. She knew that Mama was for ever having financial problems and sometimes she had to borrow money from her neighbours to keep up the payments up on her bank loan. Mama’s constant fear was that the bank would seize her little bit of land and render the family homeless yet again.

***

At the tender age of twelve, little Ying, could not devote too much of her precious time thinking about such matters. She had too many other burdens on her young shoulders: surviving day to day, keeping up with her schooling, working with her mother and having a major role in the care and upbringing of her young siblings.  Even as she stood in line at her Granddad’s funeral, she fretted that they had now taken two days off from the paddies and they must get back to work tomorrow, or by the end of the week, there wouldn’t be enough money to buy food.

At length, the formalities – unusually brief, due to the family’s lack of funds to pay for something more ostentatious  -  drew to a close, and her dear, worn out Granddad was sent on his way to his next life with puffs of black smoke bellowing out of the tall chimney, high above her head.

She wasn’t a particularly spiritual person – what girl is at that age – but on impulse, she closed her eyes and sat silently in prayer, begging ‘whoever may be out there’ that her Granddad be granted a better life the next time around. She felt sure that he deserved it as he had been a virtuous man and had made much merit in this life, now sadly at an end. When she eventually opened her eyes, she looked around and was surprised to find that everyone had gone. There was no sign of her mother and siblings, so she assumed that they had left her to her prayers and already taken off for their trek back home.

Overcome with grief but still dry eyed, Ying started to take the long, hot slow walk back to her home when just as she walked out of the Wat grounds, she was unexpectedly intercepted by the local head man – the Kaman of the village. He was Khun Somsak, the final arbiter of all village matters and the political ‘tool’ of the provincial party bigwigs. Ying knew him to be a strict, but fair old man and she surmised that he had decided to come over and pay his respects.

‘Sawasdi, Khun Ying,’ the old man started, ‘Do you have a moment? I would like to talk with you.’

‘Yes, of course, Khun Somsak, is it about my Granddad?’

Not exactly, Ying, come, follow me to my home, and we can have a quick chat.’

Ying dutifully followed the man to his own home, near the Wat, where she was bidden to take a seat in the porch, while a maid brought out a welcome glass of cold water for her.

‘Ying, your mother has asked me to talk to you on her behalf.’

‘Why, Khun Somsak, is something wrong? Has something happened to my Mama? She seemed fine at the Wat.’

The old man was silent for a few moments; not a man for quick repartee or unconsidered responses. ‘Yes… and… no… my dear. Yes, something is wrong, and no, your mother is perfectly well, as far as I am aware.’

‘Then what, sir?’

‘Ying, you are aware that your mother has problems making the monthly payments on her bank loan?’

‘Why, yes, of course, she is always talking about it and worrying herself silly.’

The old man remained silent.

‘Oh no! No!’ she suddenly exclaimed. ‘Don’t tell me we are going to lose our home again. This is too much – not now that Granddad has died. What will we do?’ she asked him, almost in tears.

‘No, Ying, the bank is not foreclosing – not yet, at any rate. No, the problem is that your mother has borrowed a lot of money from people in the village and she can’t pay it back.’

Ying thought about this for a while. ‘So what can I do about it? Why are you talking to me?’

‘Because your mother asked me to and because I think I have been able to find a solution to your family’s financial problems.’

‘So…this solution – it involves me?’ she enquired, fearing what may be coming next.

‘Yes, my child, it involves you, but please don’t be scared. We are not going to sell you to a massage parlour or anything like that. We are poor folk but we are not so bad as that.

‘Ying, my child, your mother has asked me to tell you that we have arranged for you to go and live with a family in Bangkok, to work as their as their maid and as a nanny to their children.’

‘Bangkok? I… I don’t understand…’

‘Ying, I have some friends who know a very nice family and they live in Bangkok and they need a young live-in maid. I am sorry, but it seems to be the only way out of your family’s money problems. The family will pay you a small wage and they will send it home to your mother to help with her daily expenses.’

‘But…what about my school?’

‘I’m afraid that your school days are all over, my child. You can already read and write – very well I hear – so that will hold you in good stead. Now you are grown up and you must help your family by going to work in Bangkok.’

‘But…what about my family? If I go to Bangkok, I won’t see be able to see my brothers and sister any more, will I?’

‘Well maybe one day you will be allowed to go home for a few days. You will have to discuss that with the family after you start work.’

Ying sat for a long time in silence, trying to absorb all these sudden and unexpected changes to her life. No more school – no more work in the paddy fields – no more looking after her family – no more village life with her friends…It was almost too much for her to take in all at once.

But the longer she thought about it, the more puzzled she became. It didn’t make sense – surely the money she would earn as a maid wouldn’t be that much more than she could earn in the paddy fields. And if she left home, who would look after the children? Who would cook their meals? If her mother had to do everything, then she would have to stay at home and she wouldn’t earn any money to buy food. What about the bank loan and the money she owed in the village? How was all that going to be paid back on a maid’s salary?

The canny old man seemed to sense what was going on in Ying’s young, over-active brain. ‘You are wondering how your mother will pay off her debts, aren’t you?

‘Yes, how did you know?

‘Because I know that you are very smart young lady. Well Ying, here is the crux of it all. We need you to be a very good girl and promise that you will stay with this family in Bangkok and work hard for them until you are eighteen years of age. Can you do that?

‘Well…yes… I suppose so… but why?’

‘Because the family have very kindly agreed to give your mother enough money to pay off all her debts, and in return, you must stay with them and work for them for six years, until you are eighteen. Is that OK?’ Can you do agree to that?

‘Agree? Why yes, of course. I have no choice do I?’

The man looked at her in silence.

‘But what happens… what happens if they are cruel to me and beat me and don’t feed me… what then?’

‘Don’t worry Ying, they won’t do that. They are good people, you have my word.’

‘And Mama? Will she be able to stop working in the paddy fields?’

He smiled at her concern. ‘Yes, Ying, you mother will have enough money to give up her work and stay at home. Your salary should be enough for the family’s daily needs, once she no longer needs to make the monthly payments on her bank loan.’

There was little more to discuss so she thanked the old man for his intervention and help in this matter, bade her farewells and walked slowly back to her own home.

Ying found her mother sitting cross legged on the ground outside their little home, waiting patiently for her return. She looked at her deeply troubled mother. Despite her tender age, she was not completely ignorant of the toll these past few years had inflicted on her mother; toiling in the hot, unremitting sun, up to her knees in muddy water, with her back bent at acute angles. This had left her with permanent back problems and severe arthritis. The child could see that Mama had been experiencing difficulty in getting about, even though she was still only in her forties. But to Ying’s young, but wise eyes, her poor Mama looked to be in her sixties.

Her mother looked at Ying, terrified what her eldest daughter might have to say.

‘It’s OK, Mama. You can stop worrying. I will go to Bangkok, and you can pay off the loans and stop working in the fields. I have agreed to everything.’

Her mother looked at her with tears in her eyes, and Ying knew that her Mama hated doing this to her daughter. The Kaman had told Ying that there was no time to be lost if Ying was to take up the position in Bangkok, so both of them were also distressed at the imminent departure of the family’s eldest daughter.  

Like most Thais, Ying’s family weren’t particularly demonstrative, but on sudden impulse, she crouched down next to her Mama and hugged the disconsolate woman closely to her chest. ‘It’s OK, Mama – it’s OK; everything will be just fine.’

Her mother remained stiff and motionless; her moist, myopic eyes, transfixed on a nearby mangy dog which lay spread eagled on the hot dusty earth. As she stared, the dog’s shape slowly faded from view in the ever lengthening shadows of a fast approaching dusk.

PART TWO – CHAPTER IV

Ying was very hungry and utterly exhausted.  It was 4 am and it was over twelve hours since her last meal and she had been cradling little Mac, an increasingly exhausting weight in her arms, for the past four hours. Thankfully, he had finally stopped crying, but she wasn’t too sure how much longer she could manage to nurse her tiny, malnourished, four month old baby.

But more than hunger and fatigue, Ying was wracked with fear. She was  terrified that at any moment Udom would suddenly appear out of the of the early morning gloom on his ancient motorbike , spot them at the bus stop and drag them back home. There was still about two more hours to go before the Bangkok-bound would arrive – assuming it was on time, and these next two hours would be the most nerve wracking of all. It would soon be light and there was an ever increasing chance that Udom would wake up from his drunken stupor and come looking for them.

Ying couldn’t even contemplate the idea of having to return back home with her son. She had suffered enough and was determined to get away from the violent, uncaring Udom for good. This was the third occasion over the past week when she had packed her meagre belongings and tried to creep out of the house with Mac at the dead of night, after Udom had fallen asleep, but on each of the two previous occasions, the baby had started crying and effectively put paid to her plans. Fearful that Udom would wake up, she had returned to her mattress on the floor.

But she hadn’t given hope, and finally tonight, Mac had remained asleep and she had succeeded in getting out of the house without waking her dreaded common law husband to make the long, arduous, three kilometre trek to the bus stop , carrying baby Mac in her aching arms.

She was so tired that she couldn’t stand up any more, so she decided to find a patch of grass, off the road verge where she and baby Mac could lie down and rest. That way she could hide from the prying eyes of Udom until the bus arrived; but the problem was: she might fall asleep and miss the bus.

This problem was hopefully solved when she was joined at the bus stop by two middle aged women and she decided to ask them if they would let her know when the bus arrived. They looked at her with a quizzical stare, but nodded their somewhat offhand assent, so without further ado, Ying slumped on the ground behind a large bush and put her baby gently down beside her, where he thankfully remained asleep.

She wasn’t at all sure if the women would indeed do as bidden but she couldn’t stand up for another moment and knew that she had no choice but to place her trust these women, and if not them then in God. Even if they didn’t call her, she would still probably hear the bus arrive; for at least she could now be sure that it would stop at the bus stop to pick the two waiting women.

She lay down, so tired, but her mind was in a whirl. What a mess she had made of her brief life, and what sort of reception could she expect when she went back to her home in Sa Kaeo with a new born baby and no money? Her mother had been relying on her and she had let her down so badly. If it wasn’t for baby Mac, sleeping blissfully at her side, she might well have decided to end it all.

Where had it all gone so wrong? She asked herself.

***

It had all started off so well. The family in Bangkok had been very kind to her and she soon found that her new job as a house maid and nanny to two young children had been ‘child’s play’ when compared to the arduous manual work she had been subjected to, back home in Sa Kaeo. She had been treated fairly, and as promised, her employers had regularly sent money back to Ying’s mother so that she didn’t have to return to the back-breaking work in the paddy fields.

In the early years of her time in Bangkok, Ying had managed to make a few brief trips back home to visit with her family, but as the years passed and the needs of the children became more demanding, her visits home became rarer and rarer. But she didn’t really mind, as her employers had treated her almost as part of the family and they would take her with her whenever they went away on holidays, or even out to eat on evenings and weekends. Ying grew very fond of them, especially the two young girls, who were more like younger sisters than ‘employers’.

But it all changed one day, soon after Ying’s sixteenth birthday, when she met a young, very handsome young cook, who worked in one of the restaurants which her employers liked to frequent on Sunday evenings. The restaurant was only a short distance from her home and once the acquaintance was struck up, the two had many late night, clandestine meetings, when the young Udom had finished work and when Ying’s employers were fast asleep.

This had been Ying’s very first romantic experience and with her hormones raging like never before, it wasn’t long before she had fallen hopelessly in love with the good looking, fast talking, twenty-one year old lad from Surat Thani, who was determined to take the lovely young virgin to his bed.

During the  next twelve months of their secret courtship, Udom found several opportunities to do just that, and by the time Ying had reached her seventeenth birthday, she felt that she couldn’t live a single day without seeing her beloved Udom. This was proving more and more difficult as the family had started to suspect that something was going on with the young teenager in their midst. They had discovered that she was in the habit of disappearing late at night and as a consequence, they kept a close eye on her, effectively preventing her from meeting up with her boyfriend.

The family had no idea who Ying had been sneaking out to meet late at night, but were determined to stop it, whoever it may be, so Ying had to satisfy herself with brief meetings with her lover whenever the family decided to dine at the restaurant. The two of them had discussed the problem, and Udom’s solution was for the two of them to run away together, but so far Ying had resisted. After all, she still had another year to run of her work contract with the family.

***

The family had nearly finished their meal and Ying was running out of time to do something. She looked around the table; the two girls were gorging themselves on ice cream and their parents were sitting back in their chairs, watching them lovingly through sleepy eyes, their stomachs bursting from the mountain of seafood they had just finished eating. It was Sunday afternoon and the happy, contented family were about to go home after their weekly foray to their favourite seafood restaurant.

Ying, who by now been part of this family family for the past five years, was also feeling full; but more than that, she was feeling extremely anxious that she wouldn’t have a chance to see Udom. It had been such a busy afternoon and the restaurant had been packed, which meant that it was all ‘hands to the pump’ in the kitchen and poor Udom hadn’t even had a chance to think about Ying , let alone spend a few minutes with his beloved.

In desperation and fearing that they would soon be on their way back home, she told her employers that she was going to the toilet and hoped against hope that as she passed near the kitchen, Udom would gain sight of her and come out to join her for a few precious moments. At first, she thought that she was destined to miss him for yet another week when, just as she was returning to the table, the young man appeared from nowhere, pulled her quickly into a small store room and soon they were in a fierce embrace.

When she was able to come up for air, she looked at her young, slim and startlingly handsome lover.

‘Oh my darling I have missed you so much,’ Udom whispered to her as she clutched him, shaking with emotion.

‘Me Too, sweetheart, I was afraid we wouldn’t see each other today. Oh Udom, I don’t think I can stand this much longer’

‘You won’t have to my love’

‘Why? What do you mean?

Ying, do you love me – truly?

‘You know I do?’

‘And do you want to live with me as my wife?’

‘Yes, yes, you know I do, but it’s impossible! You know that. How can I go away with you? I still have one more year to go of my ‘contract’.’

‘Ying, if you really want to come away with me, I will find a way.’

‘But how? I’m not running away – they might send the police after me.’

‘They wouldn’t do that, Ying, You have been a very good maid to them and their daughters; they would never send the police after you. In any case they wouldn’t dare. They can’t hold you against your will; that so-called contract is illegal.’

‘Oh Udom, I don’t know. They have been very kind to me and I love them. I can’t do anything bad to them.’

‘Leave it to me my love, I will find a way.’

With a quick peck on Ying’s cheek, the young man rushed off back to the kitchen where, Ying assumed, he had to complete his cooking shift.

But she was wrong. She returned to the table and was helping the children to gather up their things, when to her astonishment, Udom walked over to the table, as bold as brass, and addressed her employers directly.

‘Good evening sir,’ he said to the head of the family. ‘I would like to introduce myself. My name is Udom and I am a cook at this restaurant.’

The middle aged couple stared at the young man in silence, feeling somewhat taken aback by this brash and unexpected approach by a member of the kitchen staff.

‘You are probably not aware of this sir, but I have known Ying, your ‘employee’, for over a year and we are betrothed to each other.’

Although initially taken aback by this surprising news, Ying’s employer soon gathered his composure. ‘Well young man, we suspected that Ying was up to something late at night, but we had no idea that the culprit of her attentions was you…’

‘Yes, sir, it was me, Udom, isn’t that right Ying?’

Ying stared at him in embarrassment, not knowing what to say.

‘Is this true, Ying?’ the children’s mother joined in, ‘do you know this man? Have you been seeing him behind our backs?’

Ying realised that she had better tell the truth. ‘Yes, madam, I’m very sorry, but I’m afraid it is. Udom really is my boyfriend.’

Her employers looked at each other in astonishment, wherupon the man asked her: ‘So how long have you two known each other?’

‘Exactly one year sir,’ Udom replied quickly, ‘and now we want to get married’.

‘Married!’ the couple exclaimed in unison.

‘Ying, you want to marry this man?’ the woman asked her.

‘Yes, madam, I do. I love him very much.’

‘But you are so young, what do you know about love? What about your mother, Ying? Does she know about this?’

‘No, not yet, but I will write to her and let her know.’

‘Well, Ying and Khun Udom,’ the man said at length, in a harsh tone of voice, ‘these marriage plans are all very well, but Ying still has one more year of her work contract with us remaining, so whatever plans you two may have, they will have to be put on ice at least until then. Come on Ying, we are going home, it’s getting late and the girls have to go to bed.’

***

If only those plans had really been put on ice for year, Ying ruminated ruefully; I might not be in this unholy mess today. But unfortunately, Udom was like a man with a mission and he had been determined to have his beautiful bride and to bring her down south with him to Surat Thani where he planned to open a small restaurant.

Within days, Udom had made representations to Ying’s family at their home and, unknown to Ying at the time, had made some scarcely veiled threats that he would report them to the police of they didn’t let Ying leave with him.

The family had sat down with Ying to discuss her plans and asked her if she was sure she wanted to go with Udom. When she had assured them that this was what she wanted, they tried in vain to persuade her to postpone her plans for year, just to make sure she was making the right decision; but Ying told them her mind was made up and she wanted to go straight away. Eventually, with some reluctance, they gave her their blessing and wished her luck in her new life, making her promise to keep in touch.

*

As she lay in the long grass, her gaunt frame cuddling her baby, she wished that she had listened to them and taken their advice. She thought at the time that they had just wanted to keep her and get another year’s work out of her, but now she realised that they only had her best interests at heart.

How foolish she had been; and what about her mother and her own brothers and sisters? She hadn’t been in touch with them since she had moved south with Udom, some two years ago, and she hadn’t sent them any money. She had always intended to, as soon as the restaurant had got itself established, but Udom had soon put paid to that by adamantly refusing all requests for cash to send home, in spite of  his earlier promises.

‘How had her mother managed these past two years?’ she wondered to herself. God forbid that the crippled old lady had been obliged to go back to work in the paddy fields! ‘What are they going to say when I get home? Maybe Mama will disown me and refuse to let me stay. What will I do then?’

***

At first, the plan had seemed so exciting and promised so much for her future life. Things had started well enough. Udom borrowed some money from his parents and he leased a run-down restaurant in Surat, where the two of them worked hard to get it back on its feet. Udom would do all the cooking and Ying would do just about everything else; from getting up at the crack of dawn to take a bus down to the local market and buy the produce, to preparing the food, to waitressing, to washing the dishes and clearing up at the end of the day.

It was hard work and Ying had no time for herself. By the time they closed up in the evening, she would be exhausted and would immediately collapse into a deep sleep as she had to get up very early every morning to do the day’s shopping. At first, business was very slow, but over the weeks and then months, it grew steadily and they were just about able to make ends meet. But every time Ying asked Udom for some money to send to her mother, he made an excuse to postpone sending any – citing the need to buy more food in or some essential, maybe a new item of cooking equipment.

Although Ying fretted more and more about her mother and her family, she was now totally committed to the relationship and lived in hope that business would improve to the point where Udom would be able to give her some money to send back home. Six months after she had moved to the south, Ying’s commitment became even more cemented. She discovered she was pregnant.

As soon as she told Udom that she was carrying his baby, he seemed to lose interest in her as a lover. She still had to work from dawn to dusk to support his shaky business, but as soon as the restaurant was closed up at night, Udom disappeared into the nearby town and wouldn’t return home to the small hours, reeking of cheap, Thai whisky.

*

Ying drifted off to sleep for a few minutes in the long grass but woke up a few minutes later as her dream turned into the usual recurring nightmare; the one where a drunk Udom was  beating her baby to death.

*

She had already suffered much in her life, but somehow she had always managed to remain stoically cheerful, but the past year’s events had really started to drag her down to the point where she despaired of ever finding any happiness. She was carrying a baby, had to work like a slave, and received no affection or care from the man that she still deeply cared about, but who was obviously taking his pleasures elsewhere.

The pregnancy had duly gone to full term, despite the harsh conditions in which Ying was living and working and she delivered her son, Mac, at the local hospital, with the minimum of fuss. Udom had been out enjoying himself when Ying had been rushed into hospital one evening by some concerned neighbours, and Udom had only managed to make it to her bedside by the following morning, when he had arrived home drunk in the early hours to find her gone. He immediately checked them out of the hospital and took mother and son back home and put the young mother back to work in the kitchen.

If Ying thought that life was difficult before, she was now finding her daily existence almost unbearable. From the day she delivered her baby, Udom had forced her back to work in the restaurant. He warned her that if she didn’t work, there would be no food for her and baby Mac.

So work she did, much as before, but now she had her baby to take care of at the same time and life became ever more desperate. Unfortunately, things were to get even worse. Udom’s increasing propensity for alcohol had reached the point where he would drink during the day, while working in the kitchen.

The result of this was that he was becoming more and more violent towards his family. The slightest mistake or failure to do things exactly how he wanted them done would result in a hard slap and even the occasional punch to Ying’s delicate face. Even the young baby was not spared. Sometimes, when Ying was too busy working to take care of the baby and stop him crying, Udom would grab the baby, hold him out in front of him and shake him violently.

Ying was terrified that Udom might do permanent damage to the baby, or even kill him in a drunken fit of temper. She decided that enough was enough and that she had to get out of this miserable, loveless and abusive relationship. How to get out? It was a problem. Now Udom was drinking during the day on a regular basis, he didn’t go out very often, as it was cheaper to drink at home. By late evening, when the restaurant closed, he would usually collapse in a drunken stupor and sleep the night away.

She had managed to secretly save enough money to buy a bus fare to get herself and her son out of the south and back to Sa Kaeo. She knew she wouldn’t be welcome back home and she knew that her mother would be very angry with her, but she had nowhere else to go. The problem was how to leave without  Udom discovering what she was up to and preventing her from going? He would be lost without her as he would have no-one to do all the work that his ‘wife’ was doing for nothing. Even if she proved physically strong enough to get away from him, she could never do so carrying a young baby, barely six months old. Udom might grab the baby and make all manner of dire threats in order to keep her there with him.

She resolved to wait until Udom went out one night, but day followed day and week followed week and he never went out; he just drunk himself to sleep every night at home. In the end, Ying gave up waiting and had decided to take a chance when he fell asleep.

***

Dawn had broken and the two ‘runaways’ were entering the most vulnerable period of the early morning. What would she do if Udom discovered them? She was far too weak to fight him, and there was no one around who could help her. As tired as she was, she couldn’t sleep and she hoped and prayed that the long awaited bus would arrive soon. Please God, don’t let it be late. She lay on the ground and stared through the bushes at the road beyond, determined to stay awake, now that the time to go was drawing ever closer…

*

Suddenly, a loud thump crashed through the early morning stillness and she awoke with a start. She opened her bleary eyes and made out the sight of a bus, revving up its noisy diesel engine – its filthy smoke billowing out of an ancient exhaust. She was so sleepy that it took a few moments before she fully realised what was happening. The thump had been the sound of the bus door closing and the revving engine meant that the bus was about to leave! As she wearily scrambled to her feet, she heard the unmistakeable crunch of the engine being put into gear and before she could so much as shout out to them, the bus slowly moved away from the bus stop.

Ying panicked. She left Mac where he was lying and rushed out into the road in time to see the bus moving off into the distance. She tried to run after the bus, screaming and crying at the top of her voice, in the futile hope that someone might see her or hear her. The bus kept gathering speed and she knew it was hopeless. She kept running, but after a few steps, she tripped on a pot hole and fell head first onto the middle of the tarmac.  

It was the final straw – she knew that all was now lost; she lay prostrate on the road, breaking down into uncontrollable sobbing, with her eyes tightly closed in a desperate attempt to shut out the world and her desperate situation.

*

Her mind was in a whirl; it seemed as though she had been lying there for an eternity when she was suddenly brought back to harsh reality by someone’s hand, gently touching her shoulder. She turned over to see two men looking down at her anxiously.

‘Are you all right Miss?’

She looked at them, terrified for a brief moment that they may have some connection with Udom, but one of them had a sort of uniform and they both looked very concerned for her.

‘Yes,’ she replied, between, sobs, ‘I think so. Who are you?’

‘Miss, were you waiting for the bus?’

‘Yes, I was, but how do you know? Anyway, it’s too late, it’s gone, and the next one won’t be along until tomorrow. Oh my God what will I do?’ she cried, and once again tears formed in the corners of her eyes.

‘Miss, Miss, come on, sit up.’

She looked at them through her tear-filled eyes and slowly sat up.

‘Now,’ the man in the uniform said, what do you see, along the road, in the distance?’

She looked and she saw and her heart gave a leap of joy. There, barely visible in the far distance of the morning gloom was the distinct outline of a bus, stationary in the centre of the road.

‘But…But… I don’t understand… how could you have heard me?’

‘We didn’t,’ replied the young uniformed man, who Ying now realised was the bus conductor, ‘you can thank the two women who we just picked up. They told me about you sleeping in the bushes with your baby, but in the rush to get on the bus they had forgotten all about you, so they persuaded the driver to stop. Then they asked me to come and get you.’

Ying could barely take it all in. ‘Oh I don’t know how to thank you,’

‘Just get your things – and your baby  -  and hurry, we are already late!’

‘My baby! Oh My God! My baby!’

She needn’t have worried. Little Mac was still fast asleep where she had left him and five minutes later, she wearily but thankfully climbed on board the ancient bus, quickly settling herself and Mac into her single seat.

Her eyes brimmed with tears yet again; but this time they weren’t the tears of sorrow and despair, they were tears of relief and happiness that at long last, she was now safely on her way out of Surat Thani and away from the malevolent Udom, hopefully forever.

PART TWO – CHAPTER V

Ying sat alone at the far corner table of Siam Coffee shop, staring out of the window onto On Nut Road, wondering if her friend, Gay, was still coming, or whether had she been stood up. She couldn’t really blame Gay if she had decided not come, as after all, she hadn’t been in touch with her friend for several months. She had more or less dropped her like a stone, ever since she had stopped working at the Galaxy Night Club and moved in with Don.

She suddenly realised what a good friend Gay had been to her, and how kind she had been when she had first come to Bangkok looking for work. If it hadn’t been for Gay, helping her through those first difficult weeks, who knows what might have happened to her – a timid, vulnerable 18 year old girl, with no experience in the wicked ways of Thailand’s notorious capital city.

*

It had been more than a year since she had once again taken the bus from her Mother’s home in Sa Kaeo and made the journey to Bangkok in search of work to support Baby Mac and the rest of her family. She had embarked on this journey to Bangkok only a few weeks after her emotional arrival back at her family’s village, following her perilous trip from the South of Thailand. She had used up the last of her precious savings to hire a tuk tuk to take her and Mac from the bus terminal in Sa Kaeo City to her family’s village, some fifteen kilometres away, and had been dreading what the reception would be. But she needn’t have worried.

Ying’s mother was a hard woman, but she was also a compassionate and loving mother. She had taken one look at her half-starved daughter and grandchild, arriving in the back of a rusty, smoke-belching tuk-tuk and she hobbled over to them at a surprising turn of speed; literally lifting the two of them out of their seats and hugging them to her ample bosoms, with her tears flowing down her gnarled, sun blackened cheeks.

Ying was as thin as a rake and barely weighed 40 kilos; her baby was also very thin and undernourished. Her brothers and sister had gathered round to comfort their eldest sister when they saw her state and learned of the ordeal she had been through and within a short while, her entire extended family – aunts and uncles and cousins who lived nearby – also came to welcome her home and to hear of her exploits during the past few years.

Ying’s mother had managed to make ends meet by once again borrowing money on the small piece of land that she owned and it soon became clear to Ying that the money was fast running out and that something had to be done as a matter of urgency. She had been home for three weeks when she came to the conclusion that it was going to be down to her, yet again, to bail her family out. But what could she do? Where could she find work?

This dilemma had been temporary put on hold by the unexpected arrival of Udom in the village. Ying had never expected for one moment that Udom would find out where her family lived, much less bother to follow her there. It transpired that within days of Ying fleeing, Udom had been obliged to do a ‘moonlight flit’ from the restaurant himself due to mounting, unpaid debts and he had gone to Bangkok to obtain Ying’s address from the family she used to work for.

Ying locked herself inside her mother’s house and refused to speak to him, but he refused to leave and spoke to Ying’s mother who eventually agreed that she would try to persuade Ying to come out and settle things between them.

After much coaxing, Ying had eventually emerged from her home to confront her now despised ex-partner.

‘Ying,’ Udom began, ‘I am so sorry for everything. I know I treated you very badly and I promise I will change. I have learnt my lesson; please come back to me. I will treat you properly and take care of little Mac. I swear I will. Give me another chance, I beg you…’

‘No! Never!’ she had shouted angrily back to him. ‘You treated me like a slave and nearly killed my baby!’ I will never forgive you….’

‘Please Ying,’ the young man begged, please come back to me, I love you so much…’

‘Love me! Love me!’ she had shouted in an ever shriller tone, ‘You don’t know the meaning of the word. Get out! Get out of my village and keep away from my family!’

‘Please Ying…. Please…’

She had taken an enormous risk to get herself and her baby away from his drunken clutches and she was not about to go back. ‘Udom, It’s all over! I never want to see your ugly face again. I hate you. If you don’t go now, I will set the villagers on you.

Udom quickly realised that he wasn’t going to get anywhere with Ying and he left the village the same day. But it took another week or two before he gave up completely. After all, despite her thin stature, Ying was flowering into a very beautiful young lady and he now regretted the way he had treated her. He realised that he was still in love with her and desperately wanted her and his son back with him. Every two or three days he would return to Ying’s village in the vain hope that time would heal Ying’s anger and that she would eventually relent and return to live with him.

*

As she waited for her friend, she sipped on her cold cup of coffee and reflected on these recent events with a grimace,  Udom had  finally realised that he was wasting his time when, on the last occasion that he came to try and change her mind, his beloved had already long gone.

Later, Ying’s sister had written to her to tell her that when Udom had realised he was no longer there, he had broken down in tears. Then he had started drinking and became very drunk, threatening her mother with violence if she didn’t tell him where her daughter was staying. Eventually, the villagers got hold of him bodily and threw him out of the village and nobody had seen him since.

*

While all this aggravation had been going on with Udom, one of Ying’s many older half-sisters, on her father’s side, had come to visit her and told her that her best chance of work was to go to Bangkok. The sister had taken one look at Ying and realised that Ying was fast becoming an exceptional beauty and that it wouldn’t be hard for her to find work in Bangkok’s burgeoning nightlife industry.

‘With your looks, you won’t have any problem finding work in one of the night clubs that cater to the rich Thai businessmen,’ she had advised Ying.

‘But…but what will that involve? I couldn’t face having to sleep with them! I can’t do that! It would be terrible!’

‘Don’t worry; you won’t have to, not if you don’t want to. You will get a small salary and if you are popular with the customers – as I am sure will will be with your looks – you can earn a lot of money from drinks and tips. Some of those millionaire Thais can be very generous.’

‘But what will I have to do?’ asked Ying naively.

‘Do? You just sit with the customers and chat to them.

‘Is that all?’

Well you may have to let them hold you sometimes, and if you have a special customer, you may have to let him kiss you sometimes, but that’s all’

Ying had shivered to herself. ‘Sounds horrible!’

‘Horrible!’ her sister repeated, ‘well, maybe, but it’s better than starving. Mind you, if I had your looks, I would be looking for a ‘sugar daddy’; some rich elderly man who would put me in a nice apartment and look after me and my family; but of course, for all that, I would have to sleep with him whenever he wanted

‘That sounds terrible! The innocent young teenager replied. I can’t imagine sleeping with a man who I wasn’t in love with….’

*

That conversation had occurred only fifteen months ago and oh, so much water had flowed under the bridge since then, she thought to herself. She had decided that Gay was definitely not coming and was about to call the waiter and pay the bill, when the door flew open and in came her errant friend.

Gay was in her early thirties, but still a very good looking lady; she was  born and  bred in Bangkok with a good figure, slightly fleshy but still exciting, sexy legs, and an attractive, well-proportioned face; but her most attractive attribute of all was her silky, white skin – so admired and sought after by many of the night club’s clientele.

Gay had met Ying late one evening when she had taken pity on her. She had spotted her when she had come into the night club where she was working to speak to the manager. The young girl  had been dressed in a dirty, ill-fitting T-shirt, with cheap, baggy jeans and tattered flip flops, revealing blackened feet and dirty broken toe-nails. The clothes had done Ying’s skinny frame no favours and no one could be blamed for assuming that the girl had just emerged from one of the many slum markets to sell ‘who knows what’ wares.

It was clear that Ying had been asking for a job and it was also clear that the manager was telling her in no uncertain fashion that there were no jobs at th Galaxy Night Club for the likes of riff raff like her and that she had better be gone – sharpish  -  before he set one of his bouncers on her. Ying had started walking towards the door, when Gay hurried over and asked her where she was going?

‘Going?’ Ying responded, almost in tears. ‘I don’t know where I’m going. I was told that I could find work in this area, but I’ve been wandering the streets for hours and nobody will even give me the time of day?’ she said, looking desperate.

After Gay had managed to take a closer look at the young girl, her earlier suspicions were confirmed. Underneath all those terrible, ill-fitting clothes, the young lady standing in front of her was quite a beauty. ‘Why hadn’t that stupid manger realised that?’ she asked herself. ‘Look, she said to Ying, I know you don’t know me, but my name is Gay and I work here as a hostess. Is that what you want to be? A Hostess?’ she asked.

‘Yes, I do, but nobody will talk to me.’ I must have been to half a dozen nightclubs around here and always the same answer – No! Get lost!’

‘That’s because they are all stupid and can’t see how pretty you are. Listen, what is your name and where are you staying?’

‘Staying? I’m not staying anywhere. My name is Ying; I just arrived from Sa Kaeo this morning and haven’t found anywhere to stay yet. I was hoping to find a job first, but now I don’t know what to do…’

Gay had been working the Thai nightclub circuit for almost ten nears and the experience had hardened her, but like so many of her ilk,  she was still a glutton for a hard luck story. In fact it was probably this ‘compassionate’ side to her nature that had led her into so many disastrous affairs and meant that she was still working for drinks and tips at a time when her looks were starting to fade and she should have long since settled down with a steady boyfriend.

‘Look Ying, I think you are a very pretty young lady and I’m sure you can get a job here or in one of the other clubs in the area, but nobody will look at you when you are dressed like that. You just don’t look like a hostess.’

‘But these are the only clothes I have.’

Gay looked at the desperate girl for a few seconds.

‘I’ll tell you what I’ll do. If you want to wait outside for me, when I finish work tonight you can come home with me and I’ll see what I can do about finding you some work tomorrow.’

Ying looked at her new found acquaiantance, and instinctively realised that she really wanted to help her and was probably telling her the truth. ‘That’s very kind of you. Do you really think I can get a job?’

‘I’m sure you can, I just need to make you more presentable. Now, promise that you’ll wait for me; I usually finish work at around 2 a.m. but I’ll try to get away early tonight.’

She opened her handbag and pulled out a hundred Baht note. ‘Here, take this and go and get something to eat and be back outside the nightclub at midnight. And wait for me. I’ll try to come out as soon as I can and then we can go back to my room.’

Ying looked at the woman in astonishment. She couldn’t believe that someone was actually being kind and helping her.

‘Come on, take it, I have to get back to work.’

She thrust the money into Ying’s reluctant hands and rushed off back to her customer, thinking: ‘She’ll either get herself a good meal and then disappear for ever or, if she’s got any sense, she will be waiting for me when I finish work tonight. It’s up to her, but either way, I wish her well. She looked so unhappy –  so desperate…’

*

Gay sat down breathlessly opposite Ying at the small table and apologised for being late.

‘You know how it is Ying, I had a very late night,’ she added with a smile.’ Now what’s all this about? You’ve finally found time to meet up with your old friend again then have you? She asked, still smiling.

‘Oh Gay, I am so sorry. I know I have been selfish and unthinking,’ Ying responded. ‘I am so sorry; I should have called you before. I wanted to call so many times, but something always came up and I kept putting it off.’

Gay looked at the friend who she hadn’t set eyes on for many months. She was as beautiful as she remembered and it would seem that her dress sense was as good as ever. She was dressed like a fashion model; truly looking like a million, very sexy and desirable dollars, but one look at her eyes and Gay knew that Ying was in a very unhappy state of mind.

‘Ying’, she said, ‘do you remember that first night we met – when you came to galaxy looking for work?’

‘How could I ever forget,’ Ying answered with a weak smile, temporarily putting all her troubles to one side. I was so innocent and shy and I was dressed in those awful clothes. I can’t bear to think what may have happened to me if I hadn’t met you. You were so good to me.’

*

Her mind went back to that awful night when she had waited for two hours outside the club, slowly losing all hope that Gay would eventually appear and wondering where she was going to spend the night as all her money was gone; she was completely broke. Then much later, her tears of happiness and relief when Gay had finally emerged, full of apologies and whisked her into a waiting taxi to take them back to her little room about two kilometres away.

The two girls had fallen asleep almost as soon as they had arrived at Gay’s room, but the following morning, Gay filled her new found fiend full of food and then proceeded to find some clothes from her overflowing wardrobe that would suit the young, budding hostess. It wasn’t easy, as they were of different heights and Ying was so emaciated that almost everything seemed to hang off her, but eventually, with a bit of creativity, they found a flimsy white top and a very short jeans miniskirt that transformed the ‘upcountry rice picker’ into a gorgeous, very alluring slim young lady with smooth, slim legs that seemed to go forever.

Gay then took Ying to a nearby beauty salon where the staff went to work on Ying’s long, but unkempt hair and transformed it into glistening, black silky tresses and although her young, flawless complexion didn’t really need it, they applied delicate, understated makeup to her quite exquisite face.

The Galaxy manger didn’t even recognised the badly dressed kid of the previous evening and immediately offered her a job

*

‘Gay,’ Ying said, recalling that day, ‘you have been such a good friend; I don’t know I can ever thank you.’

‘There’s nothing to thank me for,’ Gay said. I would have done the same for anyone. You looked so sad and desperate when I saw you that night. Besides, I was being selfish – I was doing it for me, not you; I am a Buddhist, I was making merit for my next life,’ she said with a cheeky grin.

Ying laughed with her, but Gay knew that there was an underlying sadness in her eyes. ‘Ying what happened? We used to be so happy together at the Gay, do you remember?’

‘Of course I do, Gay, yes they were good times,’ she answered, thinking back to those happy, crazy, fun-filled first months she spent as a nightclub hostess.

You remember ‘Paw’? Gay asked, referring to one of Ying’s regular customers.

‘Yes of course I do.’ How is he?’

‘He’s fine. He still asks about you. I think he’s still in love with you. And… Don?’

‘Yes Don,’ Ying replied with a shudder, her smile suddenly vanishing.

‘Don – is he still with you?’

‘Yes Gay, he is still with me.’

There was a long silence between the two friends; both of them thought back to happier times.

*

At first, Ying had been extremely shy and tried to avoid having to sit with the customers but after a few days, she slowly got into the swing of things and started to understand what was required of her as a hostess. There was no obligation for her to go home with a client or to a motel for a ‘short time’ – although many of the girls did just that to supplement their income – but she was required to sit with customers and let them hold her hands, occasionally cuddle her and even, on the odd occasion, kiss her. She had found this quite distasteful when she first started working, but within a short while, after she had discovered the joys of alcohol, she found it easier and even enjoyable to smooch with the better looking ‘clients’.

She was young, very pretty and her figure was starting to fill out after the years of semi-starvation in her village and at Surat Thani. She was fast becoming a highly sought after lady at her new place of work. Many customers would go there, specifically to spend a few happy hours in the company of the delectable Ying, only to leave disappointed, as she had already been commandeered for the evening by another customer who had beaten them to it.

Most of the club’s clientele would buy a bottle of premium grade whisky or brandy  to drink with her and after a few weeks, Ying found that she was more than capable of holding her own – drinking glass for glass of whisky – or brandy – with her wealthy customers.  Ying had started to acquire a real taste for alcohol.

Even without sleeping around, she was earning good money from her ‘drinks’ and tips so for the first time in more than two years, she was able to send a small amount of money home to her mother. But it wasn’t enough and her mother still had the loan hanging over her head. Ying didn’t know what to do as she had no intention of selling her body for money.

She had been working as a hostess for about three months when, apart from the countless men who tried, without success, to make her their special girlfriend, she had realised that she was becoming quite serious with two – very different – Thai men. The first was in his early fifties. He was a lawyer and he owned his own law practice in the nearby district of Prakanong. He admitted to Ying that he was married, but had long since separated from his wife.

He was a very kind, gentle man who was more of a father-figure to Ying than a boy-friend. In fact, he was so eager to give advice to this naïve young lady who had little or no experience of life outside of Sa Kaeo, that almost from the start, she called him ‘Paw’, the Thai word for ‘father’. Ying’s real father had been shot dead, right in front of her, when she was eight years’ old and she was certainly in need of an older, wiser person to steer her through the ‘pitfalls’ of life in Thailand’s teeming, exciting and sometimes dangerous  capital city.

Paw wanted Ying to come and live with him at his house in a soi off Prakanong, and effectively be his mia noi – minor wife. He told Ying that he would take care of her and treat her very well. Ying had already told Paw about her family’s financial troubles back home in Sa Kaeo and Paw had promised to pay off her mother’s debts, if she agreed to go and live with him.

Ying wasn’t sure what to do. She had grown quite fond of this likeable, kindly old man, but she could never love him – he was just too old for her. But she wanted to help her poor mother and her younger brothers and sister back home in Sa Kaeo, and this seemed like a heaven-sent opportunity to do just that. Paw was obviously quite well off and she was sure that he would keep his promises. She just couldn’t bring herself to make that final jump.

In the event, she came to a somewhat different decision a couple of weeks later. The second significant man in her life was a very handsome young man called Don. Don had fashionably long hair, was tall, slim and dressed in the latest styles – beautiful, skin tight, silk shirts which showed off his slim, athletic torso and the latest fashion jeans. He used to come to the club several times a week with a group of friends, similarly attired and the girls would almost fight each other for the chance to sit with these fun-loving, big spending, handsome young men.

Don had long since made a bee-line for Ying and within a short time he was totally smitten. He was determined to make her his ‘own’ and single-mindedly set about winning her with a diligence and determination that belied his reputation as a playboy. Before he met Ying, Don had always played the field as far as women were concerned but Ying had changed all that.

Ying had been flattered and was literally swept off her feet by this crazy, attractive youth who seemed to be the very antithesis of the dour, spiteful Udom, her first lover. When, one momentous night, Dom implored Ying to leave her job at the nightclub and come and stay with him as his girlfriend, Ying took little time in jumping at the opportunity, but not before she had broken the sad news to Paw, that she had fallen in love with another man.

Paw had seen Don at the night club with his friends and had suffered pangs of jealousy as he watched Don and Ying together, their hands all over each other, clearly infatuated. But he tried to keep a sense of perspective about it and realised that he would be no match for such a person. He wanted Ying to be happy, but he was concerned about her plans to stop work and shack up with the young man. He warned Ying that although he didn’t know Don personally, he had seen such people many times at clubs through the years and he could tell the type. He felt sure that Don wasn’t all that he purported to be and warned Ying to be very careful.

In truth, Ying knew very little about Don’s background, or indeed what he did for a living, but that didn’t seem to matter in the whirlwind that overcame her as she packed her belongings and moved in with Don at his apartment, off Sukhumvit Road.

The problems first surfaced when Ying asked Don for some money to send back home to her mother. Don immediately lost his temper and screamed at her that he wasn’t going to support her family. She had then burst into tears, whereupon Don calmed down, came over to where she was sitting and put his hands over her shoulders, to comfort her. He seemed full of remorse for his outburst and told Ying that he would ‘see what he could do’ to find some extra money for her family.

But more rows were to follow, and although the two were clearly crazy about each other, there were issues between them which forever got in the way of a happy relationship. For one thing, Don was very vague about his family and background, and was even vaguer about what he did for a living. He seemed to go out at strange hours and return at even stranger hours, refusing to tell Ying where he had been and what he had been doing.

This would inevitably result in rows, as Ying was extremely jealous and feared the worst. Don would usually solve the problem by taking Ying to bed and totally mesmerising her with his incredibly energetic, sexual prowess. They would make love for so long that in the end, the two were too exhausted to fight any longer.

*

‘So what’s happened?’ Gay asked at last. ‘What’s going on between you and Don? You are obviously not happy. Has the bastard got another girl friend?’

‘Another girlfriend? Ying repeated, absent mindedly. ‘No, Gay, not a girlfriend… nothing like that.’

‘What then?’

‘What  then…’ Ying repeated, thinking back…

*

For many months, life had stumbled along for Ying; a mixture of heady highs and depressing lows. Highs when she was with her man, in bed making love, and lows when he disappeared, sometimes for days at a time, leaving her stuck in the apartment, wondering if he would ever come back again. It didn’t take Ying long to realise that whatever Don did for a living, it almost certainly wasn’t legal. She could see by the hours he kept, the snatches of telephone conversation she overheard and other tell-tale incidents – like Don returning after an absence of two days wearing brand new clothes and  flashing bundles of money, some of which he would begrudgingly give to Ying to send home.

Ying could have learnt to tolerate this topsy-turvy lifestyle if it hadn’t been another, more sinister event. One morning, after a night of passion, she awoke to find her boyfriend injecting heroin into a vein in his left arm. She was horrified and berated Don for doing such a terrible thing. But Don just smiled the smile of an addict who was rapidly getting ‘high’, and fell fast asleep.

Later, after Don had returned from yet another two day absence, she raised the subject of his heroin use with him, but he laughed it off, telling her that it was a ‘one off’ and assured her that he had never done it again. She didn’t really believe him and sure enough, two days later, she found him in the bathroom ‘shooting himself up’ once again. This time, a row ensued when Ying tried to take the syringe away from Don and in the end Don became violent, grabbed Ying by the hair and threw her out of the bathroom and locked the door.

From then on there had been an uneasy truce between the pair. Don would continue to take heroin and Ying had become withdrawn and quiet. She was scared to intervene any more but was even more scared of what was happening to Don and their relationship.

Don had changed. He was no longer the fun-loving, caring young man who had asked her to go and live with him. He was either away from home, getting up to ‘God knows’ what?’, or he stayed at home, sleeping the days away and ‘high’ on heroin for most of the time. They barely made love anymore and Ying feared for herself, her family and her boyfriend’s sanity.

Then today, when Don had ‘come down’ from his latest dose of heroin and before he injected another one, she had sat him down and tried to talk to him. She told him that they couldn’t go on like this anymore. She still loved him but couldn’t bear to see him like this. Don told her that he loved her and would try to quit. She informed him that if he didn’t quit she would leave him – her mind was made up.

Don had become very emotional. During his brief, ‘sober’ state, he knew that he was destroying himself and their relationship.

‘Ying, I love you and I can’t live without you,’ he had told her.

‘Don, think very, very hard about what I have said. I mean it Don, I will really leave you if you take another shot of heroin. I just can’t take it anymore.’

‘I will try; I promise,’ he had replied. ‘If you leave me, my life is over,’

‘Then you know what you have to do,’ she had said. ‘I am going out to see my friend Gay. We haven’t seen each other for so long. When I come back, I hope you will still be free of drugs.’

He had looked at her – a desperate, frightened look on his face, tears forming at the corners of his eyes and he told her he would try his best to do what she had asked of him.

Without a backward glance, Ying picked up her bag and left the apartment, for her date with Gay, leaving Don to contemplate her ultimatum.

*

‘Don… I’m sorry Gay, I don’t think I want to talk about it.’

‘But you look so unhappy, Ying.’

‘Yes, I know; but today we had a long talk and maybe it’s Ok. Maybe everything will be fine now. Anyway, I’ll find out when I get home. Now, what have you been up to? Come on, tell me what’s been going on with everyone at The Galaxy over the past few months. I’m dying to know,’ she asked with a slightly forced smile.

Gay told her that she had taken the day off from work so that they could spend the afternoon and evening together, talking about old times. She related to Ying about her former friends who were still working there, and about the ones who had left because they had found regular boyfriends or had become mia nois (minor wives) to older, rich business men and about the many, regular customers who still enquired after her.

When they were completely ‘coffee-logged’ they adjourned to Gay’s room nearby and continued to catch up on gossip. It was one of the happiest few hours that Ying had enjoyed for quite a while. For a short period of time, she almost forgot about Don back in their apartment, fighting his heroin addiction.

So it was after ten when Ying made the journey home. She was dreading what she may find, as she had a strong suspicion that Don would not have the will power to stay away from the heroin.

But nothing could have prepared her for what she did find. She opened the front door and the apartment was in darkness. There was no sign of Don in the sitting room so at first she assumed that he must have gone out. But then she heard a familiar noise coming from the kitchen. It was the sound of a kitchen ceiling fan revolving on its axis in the corner of the room,

‘He must have forgotten to turn it off’, she thought to herself as she wandered into the kitchen.

She snapped on the light and almost fainted in shock at the sight in front of her. Her beloved Don was hanging from a short piece of rope, his head at an ungainly angle, his feet dangling about nine inches from the floor, a kitchen chair upended a couple of feet away. He was dead. He had hung himself. She stood and stared at his limp body, with the whirring fan rattling back and forth, slightly ruffling the dead man’s hair as it passed a particular point in its rotation.

‘Oh No! Don! Don!’ she screamed. ‘I didn’t mean it! ‘You can do what you like! – I don’t care! – I love you, Don! Please, please don’t do this,’ she screamed, with her tears streaming down her cheeks. She rushed up to him and grabbed him around the waist, trying to pull his body to the ground, failing miserably.

His neck wouldn’t budge from the rope that tethered him, so she just clung onto him, wailing a terrible wail of grief, as the whirring fan continued its inexorable course – across the room and back again – intermittently ruffling the hair of the two bodies; one still full of frantic, distressed life and the other – cold and ugly – hanging in untimely and premature death.

***

Mobi-Babble

Last Saturday, two Brits, both in their thirties, were killed in separate accidents while riding their bikes, without helmets, on the Darkside.

I am currently discussing this subject in Thai Visa as, ironically, I had only recently started a new thread to point out the dangers of driving at speed – without helmets – on a dangerous road that has an increasing amount of traffic on it, when news of this double-tragedy came to my attention.

I was also prompted to raise the subject of reckless drivers as every day, when I take my afternoon walk, I pass by a memorial stone set on the grass verge, in memory of yet another English motorcyclist who died on this road a few years back.

So it was with no great surprise but with much sadness that barely two days after I started the thread, I learned that two young men ‘met their ends’ on what is fast becoming an accident black spot for irresponsible farang motorcyclists.

In the first accident, the man attempted to overtake at the same time as  a pick-up truck was coming in the opposite direction towards him. He clipped its side mirror, resulting him losing control, falling down onto the road where he was crushed under the wheels of  10 wheel truck which was following on behind.

I wonder why he would attempt to overtake on a dangerous two lane road, when there was an oncoming vehicle, making the manoeuvre even more risky than it already was. He was in such a hurry…

The second accident involved a man who was staying in Pattaya ‘proper’, but had driven out to the lake on his bike to get drunk at one of the Lakeside bars. On his return journey, he ‘met his maker’ although I have no detailed information as to precisely what happened.

It is a small world, for I discovered yesterday that this particular unfortunate victim had been living with one of my ex-girlfriends. Some of you may recall her; a lady, (who I called ‘Tan’), from Nakhon Sawan, who I had a short, but very tempestuous and traumatic affair, back in April, May and June, 2010, all faithfully recorded in my blog at that time. You may recall that I got pissed and she dumped me. Now that’s something new, ain’t it?

I have nothing but painful memories of Tan as I was very fond of her, but I wouldn’t wish the death of a loved one onto my worst enemy and I do hope that she manages to get through this difficult and sad time in one piece.

A Lustful Gentleman

For those of you who may be interested, at long last I have been making some progress on my novel and a couple of days ago I wrote around 4,000 new words after spending a day or so ‘getting back into it’ and reminding myself where I was at. Now I have recommenced, I am resolved to keep the momentum going and hopefully I will be publishing some new ‘sections’ soon.

I am currently reading Tolstoy’s ‘Resurrection’ which I will comment on when I have finished, (along with Conrad’s ‘Heart of Darkness’, which I finished reading recently), but in the meantime. I will just mention that I was interested to note that Tolstoy had started a new chapter, every time there was to every ‘break’ in his narrative, usually every 2-3 pages.

So, as I am sure that Tolstoy knows best, I have decided to adopt a similar format for my  novel. Currently, my chapters are quite long and contain a number of natural breaks – marked by asterisks – occasioned by ‘time shifts’, either forward or back, and I shall now covert these breaks into separate chapters. As you will see, the original lengthy chapters will now be changed to ‘parts’: ‘Part 1 is  ‘Na’; ‘Part 2,  Ying’; ‘Part 3,  Toby’, and so on.

A post script… to my piece the other day on the valiant Captain of the Costa Concordia

After his retirement, Winston Churchill was cruising the Mediterranean on an Italian cruise liner and some Italian journalists asked why an ex British Prime Minister should choose an Italian ship.

“There are three things I like about being on an Italian cruise ship,” said Churchill.

“Firstly their cuisine is unsurpassed, secondly their service is superb and then, in times of emergency, there is none of this nonsense about women and children first.”

‘Nuff said…

Two Film reviews

1. Tinker Tailor Soldier, Spy

As some of you may know, I am a life-long fan of John Le Carré and he is one of my favourite 20^th Century authors – although he is still going strong in this, his 70^th Year!

‘Tinker’ was a classic of the cold war spy genre and it wasn’t long ago that I watched, (and wrote about) the BBC 1979 adaptation, which I enjoyed very much, although I found the back ground music somewhat grating.

So it was with great anticipation that I sat down to watch the 2011 celluloid version of Le Carré’s classic.

On the whole I did enjoy it and I think I will probably watch it again as I feel it is that rare kind of film that requires more than one viewing to fully appreciate its ‘finer points’

I have to say that if I hadn’t read the novel and recently watched the BBC version, I doubt that I would have had much idea about what was going on. The film is a ‘film noir’ to outdo all ‘film noirs’ and I think you would have you be a bit of a clever-clogs to really follow all the nuances of the convoluted plot if you hadn’t previously read the book or seen the BBC adaptation.

But given that I had and I did, I managed to follow where the film was going – just about, as they did change some of the finer points of the story line, and I found some of the scenes quite breath-taking in their ability to evoke to bygone age and atmosphere.

I am also now devoted fan of Gary Oldman who gave a masterful portrayal of George Smiley, but I do feel that most of the other main characters were pretty one dimensional. Not the actors’ faults, as they were all top drawer, and did their best with the material at hand, but more a fault of the scrip and the film itself. The exception to this was Smiley’s wife, who we only ever caught the briefest glimpses of, yet in some indefinable way, we somehow knew all about her.

It is a ‘patchy’ piece of work – brilliant in parts and sometimes baffling, but never, as some have asserted, boring. The plot moves along in brief ‘snapshots’ of dialogue and action and as a consequence, sometimes you have to be pretty quick-witted to fully appreciate what is actually happening.

Overall, it was an enjoyable ‘ride’, and I particularly loved the scenes of the spooks’ 70’s ‘office Christmas party’, which were so evocative, grotesque and somehow, almost scary.

I also loved the ending, but I won’t spoil it for you.

Oh… the music is just totally brilliant!

2. George Harrison – Living in the material World

I will always go out of my way to see the work of certain actors and directors – a select few, who, in my opinion, can do no wrong.

By way of example, I will always watch an Al Pacino or a De Niro film – even if it is a bad one,  as by their very presence, they will somehow drag it out of the mundane and make it a pleasurable experience.

One of my favourite directors is Martin Scorsese and to me, he can do no wrong, ever since I saw Taxi Driver all those years ago. Since then he has followed up with masterpieces such as Goodfellas, Casino and Gangs of New York, to name but three of many. Recently, his production and directorial contributions to the TV series, Boardwalk Empire has elevated it to the echelons of all time TV greats, such as The Sopranos.

Scorsese also has also directed a number of notable documentaries through the years, almost always connected in some way to his love of music and music performers. His latest, about the life of the Beatle George Harrison, is a feast for the eyes.

To any Beatles fans, lovers of popular music, or just someone interested in the life and times of this fascinating and talented man, then this documentary is a ‘must see’.

I sat down to watch it at around 10 p.m and sat transfixed, hardly realising that the clock was almost at the hour of 2 a.m by the time the final credits rolled down the screen – along with a few tears rolling down my cheeks…

There is no narrator and no quoting of dates or facts, just a cinematic account of the life of George, from his earliest days in the Beatles right up to the day of his death from cancer in 2001. The story is ‘told’ through mainly previously unseen footage and magical interviews with so many friends and family who knew him and lived through those life and times with him.

I have a new respect for Paul and Ringo who clearly gave very honest, heartfelt and sometimes surprisingly vulnerable accounts of themselves and their relationships with George and their times with him – both good and bad. And there many others; Eric Clapton, John Lennon, both of George’s wives, Eric Idle, Terry Gilliam, Tom Petty, Phil Spector, Yoko Ono, Jackie Stewart and so many more.

Some of these people were interviewed especially for the film and other interviews were taken from archive footage, much of it never seen before. And at the top of the list of interviewees is George himself, speaking from his very early Beatle days, almost up to the time of his death.

George was a fascinating man who lived a very full life, from his music, to his film production, to his love of cars, to garden design and to his almost fanatical involvement in Indian mysticism and trans-meditation. Through the years, this quiet but obviously highly charismatic character acquired  an incredible array of devoted friends from all walks of life.

I particularly loved the videos of the impromptu sessions shot at Bob Dylan’s home recording studio in New York when members of the ‘Travelling Wilburys’, (George, Tom petty, Bob Dylan, Jeff Lynne and Roy Orbison), collaborated on a new song . It is pure magic.

But there again, there are so many magical moments

This wonderful documentary is a film not to be missed.

BUTT…BUTT… BUTT…BUTT… I don’t give a hoot!…

Mobi-Babble

When I went to the UK last August for my daughter’s wedding, I made a point of keeping ‘mum’ about my current relationship with Noo as I feared they would despair of me and think that the ‘stupid old git’ is making a fool of himself yet again. 

In fact, strange the tell, my dear old octogenarian friends in Barnwell seemed to know me better than my own family as they were immediately dubious about my claims of living alone and  I soon confessed all about my latest attempt at romantic bliss. As ever, they were most supportive and wished me all the best.

However, this didn’t persuade me to take my family into my confidence, but I did realise that sooner or later I would have to break the news to them, especially as both of my daughters had expressed a desire to come and see me in 2012.

Anyway, a couple of weeks ago I was having a web-cam chat to my brother on Skype and as luck (or lack of it) would happen, Noo walked past where I was sitting and my brother asked me:

‘Who is that?’

‘Who is what?’

‘That lady who just walked behind you.’

‘Oh…oh…her?…she’s… she’s the maid…’

‘Didn’t look much like a maid to me…’

‘Oh…really?…’ I answered with a grin, ‘Oh well, I might as well come clean, it’s a fair cop bruv.’

I told him all about Noo and also said that my daughters didn’t know about her but that I was planning tell them, ‘soon’.

As with my friends from Barnwell, my brother’s reaction was completely  supportive and he wished me well in my new relationship.

‘It’s your life, Mobi, if it makes you happy, then go for it.’

Fast forward to a few days ago when I received a ‘Twitter PM’ from my eldest daughter, (note that this ‘old git’ is well into the technological age), advising me of her plans for her and her husband to come out for a visit in early April.

So I decided that the game was up and I’d better come clean, and if they both disowned me in disgust, then so be it; but as my brother had said, it is my life and if Noo makes me happy, that’s what matters most.

So I fired off a long email telling the two of them how long Noo has been with me (nearly 15 months now), and all about her.

Well of course I needn’t have worried as both my girls are wonderful, good hearted  people and, I like to think, they still  care a bit about their old man’s happiness. They both wished me well and expressed a desire to meet Noo in due course. God bless’em!

Wither those with power over us….

If the wrecking of the Corncordia wasn’t so tragic, it would be almost laughable.

Here we have the captain of an ocean going cruise liner, responsible for upwards of 5,000 souls, putting everyone at risk by manoeuvring his giant vessel into shallow, rocky waters to salute a colleague, then lying to the passengers about the severity of the situation and failing to take immediate measures to ensure their safety; and finally – crime upon crime – deserting the sinking ship, long before all the passengers had been rescued.

Then he made half the world’s population almost fall off their chairs in apoplexy when they learned that claimed he ‘tripped and fell into a lifeboat’ by accident.

The truth is still to come out concerning the Moldovan blond bimbo who was cavorting with Captain Francesco Schettino on the bridge during the minutes before his cruise liner foundered on rocks.

She had no cabin – yet when asked, she claimed ‘I had a cabin coupon in my pocket’…, and it has been reported from many sources that the Captain had been drinking copious glasses of wine during the period leading up to the accident.

Well I have no idea what rules, if any, govern the consumption of alcohol, when in charge of an ocean going vessel, but if you or I had been found over the limit on dry land in our car, after a major accident, we would have been locked up for the duration.

By all accounts, the good Captain was a bit of a ‘maverick’ and enjoyed living the high life, which is evidenced by the presence of a blond bimbo on the bridge.

I ask you, in all seriousness, is a man who likes to change his ship’s course to salute a colleague; a man who is a known ‘budding Casanova’ – one who has bimbos cavorting with him on the bridge – the kind of person who should be in charge of a ship carrying 5000 people?

What was the selection procedure that led to him being appointed captain? In my day and age it would have involved something we used to call the ‘personnel department’ but has long since been re-named with the ridiculous and euphemistic term; ‘Human Resources’, as if by changing the  name, that somehow makes them better, and more skilled.

If you ask me, the opposite is true. In this politically correct age, I very much doubt if any thought was given to the ‘character’ of the candidates and the ‘gut feel’ of traditional  personnel professionals. If it was, how could such a flamboyant man with a maverick personality ever have been elevated to such a responsible position? 

It doesn’t take much wit to understand that the type of person who is put in charge of such vessels should be a steady, careful, conservative, safety -conscious mariner, who at all times could be relied upon to place the safety of his passengers above all else, and who had a record of selfless and dedicated behaviour to his chosen career and who could be relied upon to act decisively and bravely in a time of crisis.

Clearly, Captain Francesco Schettino had none of these attributes, and why is it that the so-called professional ‘human resource experts’ didn’t spot this?  Appoint him as First Officer or Second Officer – fine; but as captain of a giant ship?  Never!  Maybe they just didn’t care or maybe they weren’t consulted!

It wouldn’t surprise me if the recently retired Captain, who Captain Schettino was trying to ‘salute’, had a hand in his appointment, and this was his way of returning the favour. In any event, is changing a  ship’s course just to blow your horn for a friend on shore, the type of behaviour that anyone wants from a ship’s captain?

God help us all….

More of the same…

And just so that you don’t think this is an anti-Italian rant, (although I have plenty of material, what with that arrogant, criminally insane, sex-crazed idiot Berlusconi; one of the worst western leaders ever to grace the international stage), here is nice little home grown screw up, which potentially could affect the lives of thousands.

In the UK, A senior police officer has been reprimanded after a dossier of documents detailing security plans for this year’s London Olympics was left on a train. The documents, which detailed Olympic security plans, including contact details of senior police officers, were found by a commuter who handed the documents to The Sun newspaper.

Apparently, “The Directorate of Professional Standards”, whatever they may be, have been informed. (Sounds like something out of a Harry Potter novel).

What I would like to know is how can a person be appointed to a position of such responsibility be capable of doing such an incredibly foolhardy and scatter-brained thing as to leave highly confidential documents, which potentially could place lives at risk , on a public train.

What on earth was he doing even reading such documents or displaying them when travelling on public transport? Even if he hadn’t put them down and forgotten about them, who can say that he wouldn’t be mugged and have the documents stolen, or maybe someone sitting near him may have been able to photograph some of the information from their mobile phone?

It’s just plain, honest to goodness, common sense. If you are carrying highly sensitive documents in a public place, you keep them well concealed about your person at all times.

And all that happened was that the officer was ‘reprimanded’. As far as I am concerned, he should be hung, drawn and quartered; then maybe some of the other idiots in similar positions of responsibility may think twice before being so careless with the State’s and people’s secrets.

And this is by no means the first time this sort of gaffe has occurred. How many times have we read about classified documents or tapes being left in taxis, or stolen from the back seats of cars, or even recovered from rubbish bins in public parks? And what about the UK Police Chief who walked into No 10 showing the whole world the details of some highly classified information he was carrying in his hand?

Has everyone gone completely barking?

And on top of this, how about the following ‘data protection gaffes’, all of which occurred in just one year, 2011.

• The Co-operative banking Group apologised after details of 83,000 customers of its funeral planning service were accidentally published online. It blamed the episode on a contractor…

• A hospital was forced to admit that patient records had been subject to “unauthorised access and disclosure” after being sent to the Philippines for transcription…

• A division of NHS North Central London had 20 of its laptops stolen from a storeroom. The laptops contained 8.6 million patient records, reported to have been unencrypted, and that the incident was only reported to police three weeks after the laptops went missing.

• Powys County Council were fined a record £130,000 after sensitive information relating to child protection case was mailed to the wrong recipient.

I understand that humans are fallible and that mistakes will happen, but when it comes to highly sensitive information, don’t you think it behoves those responsible to take all steps necessary to ensure that proper procedures are put place and that the right people are put in charge of ensuring the safety of the state and it’s citizens’ confidential information?

It seems to me that the whole world is becoming cavalier – with our lives and with our personal information – be it Italian Captains who want to show off from their bridges or mindless and criminally careless British public servants; all no doubt a bi-product of these politically correct times where common sense often takes a back seat when it comes to appointing the right people to the right job.

BUTT…BUTT…BUTT…I don’t give a hoot!…

Mobi-Babble

I’m slowly coming up for air after all my recent travels and getting back into my old and familiar routine.

Many thanks to all those who have commented recently and I especially appreciate all the kind words of congratulations on my humble efforts to remain sober and improve my life.

For those of you who have missed my ‘daily’ dose of delectable damsels, you will be pleased to find that they have returned today in all their erotic glory.

I had a mental list of potential subjects that I wanted to write about  this morning I was trying make my choice when I was somewhat diverted by a programme on the TV which has now become the subject for today’s blog.

My apologies if you find it a trifle on the serious side, and to my esteemed American readers, please try to understand my point of view, even if you do not agree with what I have to say. 

This year, for every article which some may term as ‘anti-American’, I will do my best to include one in a later blog which some may consider ‘anti- UK’ – or at least ‘anti-something’ in the UK or maybe Europe. (That should be easy enough…☺)

‘Fair and balanced’ as they say on a well-known TV cable network….

Some notes on a Republican debate

Waking up late this morning, I turned on the TV to watch the morning BBC news before lifting my sleep-sodden body from the bed and embarking on yet another ‘Day in the Life of Mobi’.

But after succeeding in producing sound and picture through still bleary eyes, I misplaced the TV remote amongst the bed sheets, and ended up watching around 40 minutes or so of the latest Fox debate between the budding Republican candidates who wish to be chosen to represent their party in the forthcoming presidential general election.

I have seen many snippets of these debates on news bulletins over the past month or so, but have had no real desire to watch them at greater length, as quite frankly; they are pretty dire and for the most part, quite boring. To me, they are more a test of who is more adept at delivering snappy, witty and vote-catching ‘sound bites’, rather than a real examination of who is the most suitable to candidate to assume the highest office in the USA. (Or, indeed, who may make an unpardonable ‘faux pas’ that will provide the candidate with unwanted  headlines.)

I can certainly see the value of a few, ‘one-on-one’, in depth interviews by knowledgeable journalists, and yes, maybe one or two ‘mass debates’ between prospective candidates might be helpful in trying to decide between two or more with similar views; but this never ending farce of trawling out five, six or seven candidates onto stage after stage, across the American countryside, is to me, little more than a ridiculous ‘Punch and Judy Show’ and does the American electoral process no great credit.

Heaven forbid, but I almost feel sorry for the candidates in having to parade themselves like prized monkeys before the good folks of countless ‘Hicksvilles’ throughout the USA who all joyfully assemble to exercise their democratic rights and to throw their ‘rotten tomatoes’ at the hapless would-be presidents.

The theory being that if they can survive that, they can survive anything – but I’m not convinced that this unbeliveably arduous and ridiculously expensive marathon is the best way to find a president for the most powrerful country on earth.

Feeling more or less ‘forced’ to watch, I did become somewhat fascinated by some of the proceedings. There was the ridiculous spectacle of Ron Paul justifying his almost pacifist views and trying to convince us that there is no need for America to go to war as ‘we’ (America) will still track down war criminals such as Sadam Hussein and Osama  Bin laden to give them their just deserts…

Mr Paul, what planet are you on?  Now don’t get me wrong, I hold no brief for the war in Iraq, but to claim that we could have sought out Hussein and had him arrested, tried and hanged without America’s involvement in the war is just plain poppycock; ditto, Bin laden. He wouldn’t have even been in Iraq for your gallant forces to track down if Nato hadn’t gone to war in Afghanistan.

And then Mr Paul made his most outrageous statement. He even gave the example of Adolph Eichmann, claiming that it had been possible to track down and execute him  without going to war. What on earth is he talking about? Eichmann was an escaped Nazi mass criminal from the Second World War who fled to South America and was eventually tracked down and captured by the Israelis.

Now I know that there is zero chance of Ron Paul becoming the next president of the USA, but come on guys, this man is a total crackpot, yet he still enjoys widespread support from many who believe his nonsensical distortion of history.

Then you have the estimable Rick Perry whose command and use of the English language is so appalling that he makes George Bush appear like an erudite Churchillian orator. I reckon my three year old niece can express herself better than this budding president from the largest state in the Union.

So what did our Rick have to say about the recent scandal of US marines urinating on the bodies of dead Taliban. He said he felt sorry for them, that they were only kids, and he went on to heap opprobrium on both Obama and Clinton for their expressions of outrage over what these soldiers had done.

Now let’s get one thing clear; what these ‘misguided’ American soldiers had done was in clear contravention of all accepted rules of war, including the Geneva Convention on the conduct of war, to which the USA is a signatory. As members of the US military they violated laws of war, including prohibitions against photographing or mishandling bodies and detainees. It also violated the U.S. Uniform Code of Military Justice, which governs conduct.

On top of that they jeopardised the recent attempts at peace talks with the Taliban, which quite frankly is probably Afghanistan’s only feint hope of achieving any semblance of democratic peace going forward.

Then Mr Perry went on to compare what the marines had done with some of the despicable acts which had been carried out in the past by Al Qaeda in Iraq!

Ermmm… Ricky baby…. These guys were Taliban in Afghanistan… not Al Qaeda in Iraq. Nobody is pretending that the Taliban are a bunch of ‘fair play’ choir boys, but come on, get your facts right, and please try to understand the difference between the Taliban and Al Qaida. Even pacifist Ronnie understood that!

Sheesh! One of these guys may end up being the president of what is still the most powerful military state this world has ever seen.

(By the way, what was all that patriotic crap that the President Obama and his cohorts kept trying to ram down our throats about the American soldier is the finest, the bravest and most honourable in the world? Yeah…pissing on dead bodies… very brave, very honourable…)

Then the debate inevitably turned to the unbelievably liberal American gun laws – the notorious 2^nd Amendment to the US constitution which permits all adult citizens to own and use guns in self defence

I suspect that there are very few non Americans in the western world who don’t think that the American gun laws are completely crazy. Sure there is a massive amount of gun violence in all so-called civilized countries, but I challenge you to find any country that doesn’t suffer more deaths, per capita, by guns, than the USA. (I am not counting central and south America as so-called civilised countries)

It is a complete nonsense to allow every American citizen to buy and keep a gun with virtually no checks or controls over their ownership. The net result is that America is an extremely violent society where hardly a week goes by when there isn’t yet another horrific tragedy in which often dozens of innocent people have been shot and maimed by some deranged gunman.

Can you believe it? A year or so back, there was a huge hullabaloo over attempts by congress to restrict access by the public to assault weapons? And guess who won? The gun lobby of course. Not content with the public owning hand guns and single shot rifles, the worthy citizens of America can also own assault weapons – you know semi- automatic rifles and even weapons such as rifle grenade launchers. If this isn’t world gone mad then I don’t know what is.

Yet candidate after candidate swore their allegiance to the second amendment and the freedom for all to bear arms. They even quoted their voting records in Congress and /or state legislatures to confirm to that they had never wavered in their beliefs that it was right and proper for every citizen to freely bear sufficient arms to shoot up and destroy every other citizen in his/her neighbourhood, and, no doubt, far beyond.

I don’t know if it was me, but as I watched the candidates speak on this subject, I thought I detected an ever so slight hesitation, or maybe even a barely noticeable reluctance to say what they were obliged to say. A bit like the poor citizens of North Korea having to express public grief over the death of their dear despotic leader, or face unimaginably unpleasant consequences.

Let’s face it – the second amendment is a bit like the ‘elephant in the room’. I strongly suspect that a vast majority of right thinking, intelligent Americans know that it is an inherently flawed piece of legislation

But they would no more dare to even suggest that some gun controls should be cintroduced than your local pastor would dare to question whether God really created the universe, even though I suspect many in this day and age of scientific discovery, may think just that.

The gun lobby is just so powerful and it wends its insidious path throughout all strata of American society; politicians and political parties alike, that no one dare gainsay them, for to do so would be tantamount to political suicide. It is one of the many corruptions that run to the very core of 21^st Century American politics.

As many of my readers will know, I am no fan of Obama. Frankly I never have been, even when he was at the height of public adoration with his wonderful oratory and his promise of ‘change’ and to get rid of the entrenched corruption in Washington. But silly me; I looked at his record in Chicago and his associations with some highly dubious characters and I feared the worst.

But when he was elected by a landslide I, like many others, became swept up in the excitement of the occasion and hoped against hope that he might actually achieve something.

Of course it wasn’t long before disillusion set in and he became a salutary lesson in how an inspired orator is not necessarily an inspired leader. He has shown himself to be a weak, vacillating president, with poor leadership qualities and has become completely subsumed by the Washington machine and its vested interests. Washington has eaten him alive and is still spewing out the pieces.

So on the face of it you would think that with state of the American economy and the dire state world in general and America along with it, that virtually any viable candidate put up by the Republicans would be a shoe-in in the upcoming general election.

You would think so wouldn’t you? But what a shower they have come up with! Romney is clearly the best of a very bad, totally inept bunch, but even he leaves so much to be desired.

Sure, over the long years of campaigning he has learned how to speak and behave in a ‘presidential’ manner, but we all know from Obama that a good orator doesn’t necessarily make a good president.

We also know that Romney is a liberal conservative who is trying desperately to move to the right to attract the hard core GOP support. Nothing wrong with a liberal conservative in my book, (but I’m a European), but for many who want Obama out, rightly or wrongly Romney  is not the president they are looking for.

But he is trying desperately to convince them that he is, but it wouldn’t surprise me at all that come Election Day, many undecided independents along with a sufficient number of disgruntled right wing republicans will stay away, to let Obama in for a second term.

The problem with Romney is that he is an opportunistic hypocrite, who secretly nurtures liberal views on subjects such as healthcare, gun control and abortion which he would never dare to admit to  in public. I suspect that many of the public also feel this in their bones.

So having listened to this hypocritical diatribe for as long as my flesh and blood could stand, I finally succeeded in retrieving my remote control from under the bed clothes and switched over to Al Jajeera…..

BUTT…BUTT…BUTT…BUTT… I don’t give a hoot!…

In case any of you may be wondering, I will no longer be posting an update on each blog on the number of months and days I have been sober. After my first year milestone, I feel that keeping a daily or bi-weekly track of my period of sobriety is no longer of any consequence.

Hopefully, my drinking days are long behind me and its now onwards and upwards in trying to put some meaning into my post-alcoholic life.

I will, however, mention the length of my sobriety on a monthly basis, and rest assured, I will confess all if I ever have a relapse – although I do feel this is most unlikely.

Someone suggested that I should provide regular updates on my efforts to lose weight and get fitter, and while I have no plans to advise my latest weight loss (or gains) in every blog, I will provide my readers with regular updates on my progress in this regard.

I am very pleased to report that not only have I become much fitter and stronger in recent weeks but have actually succeeded in losing almost 10 kilos in weight. I was hovering on 100 kilos a few weeks back, and I am now a smidgeon over 90 kilos and as a consequence, my pot belly has shrunk considerably in size.

This has been achieved by strictly observing a no chocolate/ice-cream/fruit diet and continuing my daily brisk walks which now last for a minimum of 40 minutes and are often well over an hour in duration. It is also pleasing to note that there are  virtually no after effects, in the shape of aches or pains, to show for my much increased exercise.

Indeed, as you will see below, last Thursday I must have walked for the best part of three hours and although I felt pretty bushed at the end of it, I woke up the next day with not a sign of any stiffness.

My ultimate target is to get my weight down to 80 kilos, which I haven’t achieved for a good few years, and I am under no allusions that the next 10 kilos will be much harder than the first 10.

I will never embark on any kind of ‘starvation diet’ and trust in my tried and tested routine of   eating three sensible meals per day, (containing  the minimum of fat and little added sugar) , plus daily exercise, to work its magic on my fitness and body weight. I will be more than happy if  I can get down to maybe 82-83 kilos, get rid of 90 % of the fat on my belly, (it has already reduced by about 50%), and wake up every day feeling reasonably fit and energetic.

Getting my weight below 80 kilos will be a bonus.

I am also pleased to report some progress in getting my blood pressure back under control. For quite awhile, even with my increased, twice-daily medication and daily exercise, the systolic blood pressure reading was still stubbornly high, but at long last, literally over the past few days, I can detect a slight improvement. I am checking my BP in the morning, evening, just before I take my twice daily meds, so I am checking at time when the meds are having their least effect.

Although by no means satisfactory, the systolic is definitely showing signs of coming down, so I am feeling much more positive in this regard. Failure to get my BP back under control will only hasten the day when I will need to have my dodgy aortic valve replaced, so fingers crossed.

Mobi’s Thai Trips

Following our pre-Christmas trip to the North-east of Thailand, Noo and I set off yet again on a Mobi-trip, this time in a southerly direction to Cha Am and Hua Hin, after taking in a brief stop en route in Samut Songkran. I had originally planned this trip last October, but had to postpone due to the floods, so I decided to reschedule early the New Year before the weather became too hot.

I have been to Cha Am/ Hua Hin on several occasions over the years, the first being way back in the mid 70’s when Cha Am was a beautiful, but totally desolate, unspoilt beach-side hamlet, known to only a very few adventurous Thais, and Hua Hin was still stuck in another, much older era, and its historic and architecturally aesthetic ‘Railway Hotel’ still dominated the skyline as the only structure worthy of note in the entire area.

I also remember driving there about ten years ago with my youngest daughter who was visiting me in Bangkok, and I well recall getting hopelessly lost in Southern Bangkok as I failed to realise that I should have followed the Express-way signs to Dow Kanong and thence to Highway four to the south.

I mean, how was I to know that Dow Kanong – a nondescript junction, south of Bangkok  – which wasn’t shown on any decent road map, (no Google Earth in those days), was the ‘key sign post’ for motorists driving South? I have since learned my lessons about Thai road sign-age and have had no further problems in finding my way south.

But a few years back, (2008 I think), a miracle occurred. The road that seemed to take longer to complete than the Great wall of China, finally had its southern most section completed, and at long last, it became possible for us Pattaya residents to drive to the south of Thailand without having to go through Bangkok.

From Pattaya, we can now take the 55 kilometre elevated highway from Chon Buri to the magnificent, ten lane, Bangkok Outer Ring road, (often referred to as the Thai ‘M25’), southwards, over the Chao Phaya River and then onwards to the south of Thailand.

There is a famous landmark in Samut Prakan, ‘The Chang Erawan’, (A huge Elephant sculpture with 3 heads), that dominates the skyline at the southern end of the ring road. You see it just before you drive onto the awe-inspiring Kanchanapisek bridge, a span of over 500 meters, which makes it the longest single span bridge in a city full of mighty bridges.

Here are some not very good pics of  Chang Erawan and the suspension bridge. (Well, it was a bit difficult, as I was driving at the time!!).

It wasn’t long before we were in Samut Sonkran where we took a small detour off the main road to meet up with Noo’s elder sister who ran a stall in the renowned Meaklong or ‘Railway Market’, so named as it has an active railway line running right through its centre.

It is a fascinating market, as all the stalls are set up either side of the single railway line and the customers walk along the rail line and stop in the centre to buy their wares. Whenever a train comes by, the customers are shooed off the line and the stalls are taken back a meter or so from the track. Most of the heavier stalls are on wheels to facilitate their speedy removal, and some are even on tiny rails.

Last year I made a trip to the market with Noo to visit with her sister and was pleasantly surprised when a train actually came through. Unfortunately on this occasion, in spite of Noo’s sister insistence that one was due, there was no sign of it and I wasn’t about to wait there all day just on the off chance; so regrettably no pics of trains coming through the market and people rushing to get out of the way.

However, here are some of photos I that I did take. Note the tiny wheels on the bases of some of the stalls so that they can make a quick retreat.

The road from Samut Songkran to Cha Am in Petchaburi province) and thence to Hua Hin, in Prachuab Kiri Khan province, is an excellent 8 lane highway and is relatively light on traffic, so good driving time can be made. Within two hours we were checking out the hotels and guest houses on the long Cha Am beach front.

As ever, the rooms came in all shapes, sizes and prices and after looking at half a dozen or so, we opted for a decent sized ground floor room with a little tastefully decorated veranda , which also came with fridge, A/C, cable TV, and very fast wifi; all for the princely sum of 900 Baht per night.

We could also park up right outside the door, which is essential for us with all our baggage, which includes an electric kettle, our myriad breakfast making essentials, plus two lap top computers!

Despite the fact that it was mid-week, the resort was surprisingly busy with tourists – Thais and foreigners alike. We soon discerned that a majority of the western tourists, all married couples and families, hailed from eastern Europe. Russians, Noo told me – and she ought to know!

Cha Am beach front is full of restaurants, small hotels, guest houses, shops and other typical seaside establishments and is very long – quite possibly as long as Jomtien beach in Pattaya, although I didn’t actually get around to measuring it…

Cha Am  has traditionally been more of a Thai holiday resort than farang, (rather like Bang Saen, along the coast from Pattaya), and as a consequence, there is virtually no western-type night life in the shape of bars or ‘go-go’ establishments as befits a respectable family style resort.

Most restaurants had both Thai and western food on the menu and all were in the inexpensive ‘mid –price zone’, very similar to, or maybe cheaper than most Pattaya establishments.

The long sandy beach contains areas which boast the ubiquitous ‘wall to wall’ umbrellas but, unlike Pattaya, there are also plenty of  ‘open beach’ areas, where the sun and sand  are unspoiled by hundreds of these ugly, sun-blocking accoutrements.

After a long afternoon walk seafront and a tasty Thai meal in a quiet restaurant, we retired to our room for a few hours before breaking my latest rule of a life time.

We drove down to the very end of the seafront where we parked up at a ‘pretty pretty’ S & P restaurant. Sitting outside in the moonlight we gorged ourselves on not one, but two banana splits – delicious! Well, you have to spoil yourself once in a while.

Here are a few pics I took earlier that day together with my attempt to snap Cha Am in the moonlight.

Some Pink Bicycles made for two… or three…or four

It was a full moon and the beach lit up the beach with eerie shades of greyish-brown sand and the moonbeams rained down on the glistening surface of the sea. I am not sure if my photo does it justice….

The following morning we took the 30 minute drive to Hua Hin and parked up near the beach to take a stroll around the town centre and also to visit the beach. Once again I was surprised by the number of visitors around, who yet again, were mainly of the eastern European variety.

Cha Am boasts a bigger and much nicer beach that Hua Hin, although it cannot be denied that Hua Hin’s beach is full of character. The Thai word ‘hin’ means ‘rock’; Hua Hin is so named due the proliferation of rocky outcrops in the general area of the town,  particularly on and near the beach.

Unfortunately the tide was in when we arrived and we couldn’t stroll along the beach very far. However, I did manage a few photos, including one of Hua Hin’s famous beach donkeys which are available for hire at 800 Baht an hour.

Why anyone in the wildest dreams would wish to change the name of one of the world’s most famous and romantic hotels to ‘Sofitel’ is completely beyond my comprehension. They might as well rename ‘Raffles’ as ‘City Lodge’ or some other similarly inane epithet.

This magnificent, colonial style hotel, which was built in 1923 had its name changed a few years back when it was acquired by the Sofitel hotel group, but to me it will forever be the ‘Railway Hotel’.

I must say  however, that to their credit, the current owners have kept the hotel and its 13 hectares of landscaped gardens in magnificent condition and they are to be commended for that – but not for their short-sighted view on the changing of names.

I hope my humble photos have done justice to this wonderful place.

After an extensive wander in the grounds, where, as you will have seen above, we happened upon a bridal couple, we took a stroll through the ‘tourist streets’ of the town centre, which were awash with restaurants, bars and pubs.

This was quite a change from my last visit to the town- maybe some 10 years ago, where there were just a few bars, located in tiny sois, away from the main walking areas. But now bars abound in the central area which is bordered by  Dechanuchit Road and Naresdamri Road.

Having resolved to return that evening for a meal and a stroll around the night life area, we set off in a southerly direction and about 20 kilometres down the coast we stopped off at Khao Tao Beach, a beautiful, deserted and unspoilt beach and small fishing boat harbour, which I had first visited some 10 years ago. But on my previous visit, the enormous Buddha images and other temple constructions on the distant hillside had not yet been started.

Here is what Khao Toa beach and the surrounding hills look like today.

I was too lazy to get out of my car, (after a very long walk in the sun along the open beach), but I couldn’t resist taking a snap of this ‘enterprising’ young man with his mobile ‘coffee’ establishment, parked just off the beach. Note the ground level satellite dish and also the sole proprietor, fast asleep in an adjacent hammock!

Even if I had wanted a coffee, I wouldn’t have had the heart to wake him…

After leaving Kho Tao beach, we drove along the coast a short way before coming across another beach, which didn’t seem to bear any name. Anyway, it was yet another beautiful, empty beach with a couple of large and interesting sculptures nestled on the rocks at the northern end of the beach. Note the strategic placing of the mermaid’s hair locks.

We continued following the coast on minor roads until we eventually came to a halt outside the gates of what appeared to be a royal palace. Like a fool I asked the guard if we could enter and he looked as though he might shoot me as he angrily shoo-ed us away…

We retraced our steps past the florally bedecked verges and stopped briefly in a shady wooded area before heading off back to Cha Am.

Back at Cha Am, I drove up to the fishing harbour where I took a few more photos, including some shots of one poor fishing vessel in its death throes.

As planned, we dressed up in our Pattaya finery and returned to the rocky city for an evening meal and a little wander. The town centre was bustling with life and tourists and many bars/restaurants were absolutely jam packed. This was a bit of a revelation to me, especially as it was mid-week, but I guess it is ‘high season’, and there must have been many tour groups in town.

Again, a vast majority seemed to be couples and families from Eastern Europe. In fact, although there were a few single men of indeterminate age to be found, I have to say that on the whole, the bar girls, (most of whom were also of indeterminate age), were struggling to land any punters.

Noo and I enjoyed a nice inexpensive meal at one of the roadside ‘al fresco’ restaurants and after that, we strolled around and stopped at a couple of bars where we sipped our fruit juices and watched the Hua Hin world go by.

It had been a very long day and I was glad to get back to my room in the late evening and was soon ‘out for the count’.

The next day, Thursday, we awoke a trifle late but were soon on our way to our planned destination, the magnificent Marukhathaiyawan Palace, located a few kilometres down the coast, just inside the Petchaburi border where Petchaburi Province adjoins Prachuab Kiri Khan Province. (Midway between Cha Am and Hua Hin)

Marukhathaiyawan Palace, was the Royal Summer Seaside Palace of King Rama VI and is often referred to as “the palace of love and hope”. It was built in 1923 using golden teak-wood from the demolished Hat Chao Samran Palace. An Italian architect designed the palace with a dazzling composition of verandas and latticework.

Long since having fallen into disuse, (the present royals have their own summer residence – Klai Kangwon Palace   – further down the coast), some years ago it was restored to its previous splendour and is now a well-trodden tourist spot. This is particularly so, since the extensive grounds in which it stands have been turned into an environmental centre, (‘Sirindhorn International environmental Park’).

I visited this palace some 10 years ago with my then wife and youngest daughter, who was visiting me from the UK and in those days the environmental park did not exist and there were very few tourists. These days the whole area is bustling with tourists, (mainly Thais, school parties and the like), along with many local workers who tend the palace and the large, nearby parkland.

We were only allowed to enter the upper areas of the Palace in organised groups, presumably to prevent it becoming too crowded, and while inside, I was not allowed to take photographs.

So the photos below were all taken from the palace grounds which I hope still provide you with a good idea of this impressive place, although sadly I could not show you any of the rooms which still contain original furniture and fittings and give you a very good idea of how the exalted used to live in those days.

Believe it or not, they lived in a very western influenced environment and their formal ‘western’ evening dinners even had a menu written in French! Also, their dinner dress code wouldn’t have raised an eyebrow by the residents of ‘Downton Abbey’.

Leaving the palace behind, we embarked upon a very long walk which took in a statue of Rama VI, and the last remaining residence of the many that used to be scattered along the beach front – occupied by court officials and other ladies of the King’s retinue…

After this we took a hike to the newly established mangrove swamps.

We didn’t exactly get lost, but it turned out to be a very long walk indeed – some two hours or more before we finally made it back to our car.

After a not very satisfactory meal in the grounds car park, we set off on our final stop of the holiday, which was back up the coast towards Petchaburi city, to visit the coastal resort of Hat Puek Tien.

What a dump this turned out to be! It was a sad experience, as it is touted as a great seaside resort, but clearly the tourists have voted with their feet. The place is awash with empty, tumble down holiday homes and is pretty much like a huge ghost town with evidence of long lost, decaying glories everywhere.

A visit to the so-called ‘beach’ reveals the reason why. There is no beach as such, just huge chunks of concrete blocks which clutter up what used to be the beach area. How this mess arose I have no idea, but the place is a disaster.

As if to make matters worse, there is a massive offshore statue of some mythical female creature which is enough to put the ‘heebie-jeebies’ up the most insensitive amongst us. Not something to warm the cockles of our hearts when we are seeking some serenity and peace amidst the blue oceans of Thailand.

Well, you can’t expect perfection at every stop-off, and overall, we had thoroughly enjoyed all the places we visited. Actually, even Hat Puek Tien gave me cause for  mirth; it was so dire it was comical.

Back in Cha Am, we had an excellent evening meal at one of the popular nearby restaurants, and then an early night after our long, tiring adventures of the day.

We hit the road at around 10 am on Friday morning and apart from the usual traffic nightmare in trying to get onto the outer Ring Road from Rama II, (I counted at least 24 lanes jammed with trucks approaching the Outer Ring Road toll booths from every imaginable direction), we made good time, arriving back home to our faithfully waiting pooches before 2 p.m.

So there are no more trips on the horizon for the next few weeks – or months – and maybe I can at long last get back into my oft neglected novel.

My apologies for the break in service mid-week, but as you will see, I have been more than a little occupied since last weekend.

When I visited the UK last August, some of you may recall that I went to a weekend reunion up in Northumberland, near Newcastle, where I met up with a number of friends that I hadn’t seen for years, many not since I was a teenager.

Well one of these guys, the son of an older, very dear friend of mine,(long deceased), was there, and, as with all the others who attended, I made blanket invitation to him to drop by Pattaya and look me up, at any time they were passing my neck of the woods.

You’ve guessed it – this particular gentleman sent me an email a couple of months back and asked if he and his lady could drop by for 6 days on their way back from a trip to Oz.

Well I couldn’t refuse, even if I wanted to, and it was with a little trepidation that Noo and I took off of the airport to pick them up last Monday night, the plane arriving from Sidney at the unspeakable time of half past midnight.

I needn’t have worried. Noo and I have had the most wonderful time showing them around, and I confess that I have had one of the most enjoyable weeks in Thailand than I have had in a very long time.

Usually, when friends and family come to visit, I have generally found it more of a chore than a pleasure to drive them around and take care of them, and I have always been seriously out of pocket – as everyone seems to come to Thailand with the idea of having a nice cheap holiday at my expense and leave poor old Mobi to pick up most of the tabs.

But not so, ‘Carnie’, (Joss Carnes, known by one and all as ‘Carnie’), and his lovely lady, Sally.

Carnie is just a few years younger than me and is a giant of a man, around  6 feet four, probably around 18 stone  (250 pounds) with a rugby player-like  physique and a full blown beard and long flowing hair to match.

He is one of the world’s gentle giants. A lovely man, as is Sally, his lady of about three years, and we had a hilarious and great time together; and the couple more than paid their way – the first time ever for this Thailand host..

Carnie has spent most of his adult life in Cornwall and owns a substantial garage and motor repair shop down there and seems to have done OK in his life; so the loving couple have decided it is time to travel the world before they get too old to enjoy it, hence their unexpected arrival on my doorstep.

So my apologies for those who have been awaiting my next selection of scantily clad females, as in this blog I am going to bore you all with a selection of photos that I took during the week’s travels, in and around Pattaya, and even further afield, as you will see below.

You’ve all seen pics of Pattaya, so I will start off with a few pics of the new-ish Floating Market, about 10 kilometres south of Pattaya which seems to get bigger and better, every time I visit it.

Then we drove further south, to the area of the Wat Yansangwararam complex which has some beautiful and unusual temple buildings, all of which I have taken many photos of through the years.

However, one particular building, set at the back of the main area, has always been closed off and I have been unable to get close to take a proper photograph. This time, I was pleasantly surprised to find it open and was able to drive in and at long last take a few pics to add to my ‘Wat Yansangwararam‘ collection.

We then drove the few kilometres to Pattaya ‘Buddha Mountain’ where, so it is claimed, they have the largest Buddha Image in the world. It is 130 meters tall and 70 meters wide. The carving is inlaid with gold and has been carved into the rock by laser technology in 1990 and was officially opened in 1993 by His Majesty King Bhumibol.

Close to the ‘Buddha Mountain’ is the extensive grounds of Silver Lake Vineyards, and genuine wine producing vineyard ,which looks as though it is also slowly being turned into a theme park.

I have taken many photos of the Buddha Mountain and the vineyards on previous visits so did not bother to add to my collection on this occasion.

Finally to much photographed Bang Sarae, where I was dismayed to discover that my favourite all time sea food restaurant was closed for the day! Not to worry, we drove along to one of the main fishing boat piers and found another large restaurant which was completely devoid of customers. I usually avoid such establishments, but we decided to take the plunge, and weren’t disappointed.

I guess it was just an ‘off day’ after the mad rush of the Xmas and New Year period, and the food was, fresh, well-cooked and, most importantly, very cheap. I reckon the same meal in one of the down-town Pattaya establishment would have been treble or even quadruple the price.

The ambience wasn’t as good as my usual restaurant, but it wasn’t that bad and we enjoyed a great meal, and had the place all to ourselves as a special bonus.

The next day we set off early for a trip to two places that I thought might interest Carnie and Sally; namely Pang Pa-In and Ayutthaya.

I have been to Ayutthaya on a number of occasions abut only once to Bang Pa-In, which I remembered was a lovely, peaceful place, and on my previous visit I had taken many photos but had subsequently lost the camera memory card, (drunks tend to do things like this), and wanted to fill my photo collection gap.

It was just over two hours  to drive to Bang Pa-in from Pattaya, arriving at the Palace grounds with little incident, but for some unaccountable reason we, (i.e.Mobi), couldn’t  to locate the Palace entrance. We drove round and round the outside of the high Palace walls in ever decreasing circles, until eventually Noo had to ask a passing noodle seller, who pointed to the Palace gate, barely 10 meters from where we had stopped!

Then we, (i.e. Mobi), tried to drive right through the Palace gate, only to be accosted by the Palace guards, who at one point looked as though they may open fire upon me, but in the end they contented themselves with ushering me furiously into a nearby car park located outside the main gate from where we made our way on foot to the elusive Palace entrance.

No doubt my mad cow’s disease is coming along apace….

If any of my Thai based readers haven’t been to Bang Pa-In, I urge you to go. It is a beautiful place which is steeped in peace, calm and tranquillity. I could actually spend a whole day there, just wandering slowly around the beautiful gardens, admiring the architecture, the gardens and lakes and contemplating life.

Hopefully, the photos below give you a taste of what you can expect.

Ayutthaya is only few kilometres down the road from Bang Pa-In, but the city is very large, and as you can imagine, we had a right royal time finding our way to the centre where many of the ancient monuments are located. My guests were quite amused at my lack of planning or lacking any kind of a detailed map for the trip, but it added to, rather than detracted from our enjoyment of the day.

As we motored around the province we saw much evidence of the devastating floods, which in some places had risen as much as three meters in height and had created such disruption, loss of homes and livelihoods to the good citizens of Ayutthaya.

But as ever, we finally followed our noses and found our way to two of the major historical sites. The first site was so damaged by the floods that it had been completely cordoned off go prevent visitors from getting too close and damaging the already flood damaged monuments even further.

The second site we visited was the main site for visitors and most of this was open for view and closer inspection.

You may note that I have  included  many trees in my photo collections, as I have a deep love and  reverence for trees and find so many of them – frankly -awe-inspiring. Sometimes trees come close to convincing me that there must be a divine being out there somewhere….

Look at the first photo below. You can see clearly the white ‘rings’, high up on the branches, which show the level of the floods – quite amazing.

By way of a diversion, I managed to capture a Thai squirrel running down a tree to have his supper, in a nearby car park.

Late in the afternoon we went looking for an elephant encampment, but were too late and the site was almost deserted, except for a few elephants in the far distance, left out to graze overnight. There was also an interesting Chedi which had somehow survived all alone in what was now a bit of a bleak wilderness.

How about those ‘fan’ palm trees on the horizon?

Note the dried up elephant footprints caused by wading through the flooded earth.

Can you believe I hadn’t been anywhere near Walking Street for over two years, so on Friday night I broke the habit of a lifetime and took my two visitors to savour some of the  delights of that infamous area.

Before we took the plunge, we stopped by Hard Rock Café, a kilometre or so down the road from Walking Street, to enjoy their huge burgers and to be entertained by a very loud, but a very good Philippine hard rock band.

On my previous visits to Hard Rock Café through the years, the bands had always played a mixture of mainly pop and not much  rock so it was with some pleasure and surprised that we sat through nearly two sets in which every single song was a genuine rock number – both old and modern. Then, at around 1 am, to my utter astonishment, they suddenly broke into ‘Dancing Queen’ by Abba. We hastily paid our bill and departed before they decided to follow up with the Birdie song or Aga doo….

Walking Street hadn’t changed much, although there seemed to be a distinct lack of Lady Boys littering the side-walks who had been so ubiquitous during previous visits. I can only assume that the BIB has discouraged their presence, presumably due to their increasingly dubious reputation of beating up, robbing and drugging tourists.

My guests expressed an interest in viewing a go-go bar, so I took them to one of the seediest that I could remember from my former life. In this particular den of ill repute, as well as the usual batch of bikini clad lovelies trotting their stuff out on the bar, there was as area where stark naked ladies busied themselves getting soaped up before slithering and sliding around the wet stage in ever more suggestive and erotic poses.

Beyond this platform was yet another stage where more naked women were beating each other with black rubber hoses and punters were queuing up to be also beaten by the naked ladies.

My guests were somewhat taken aback by this outrageous, in your face erotica and we didn’t stay too long, although afterwards they told me that they had enjoyed the experience – most enlightening…

We walked the gauntlet of  ‘Walking’, weaving our way in and out of the detritus of Walking Street society and finally, at Noo’s entreaties, we ended up in one of the main disco clubs of Pattaya.

I haven’t been in a Disco, (‘club’ to the rest of the world), for literally years and years. Even when I stayed with my last wife we never entered one together. She always went alone, (with friends that is…), and on the odd rare occasion when she tried to persuade me to go in with her, I would politely decline, whereupon I would immediately become embroiled in major domestic incident.

I hate these clubs. They are huge, extremely loud, very crowded, smoky, and full of drunken tourists and Thai whores. Worst of all, they play the most asinine noise that they have the affront to call music that I have ever experienced in my life. I honestly can’t imagine for all the world what it is the younger generation get from these appalling places.

Discos in my days were great places to go. They had tuneful songs, decent decoration and furbishing, and you could actually communicate with each other over the noise of the music.

Now they are just huge great barn type buildings and all you can hear is this horrible BOOM – BOOM – BOOM which goes right through to your very soul and there is absolutely no discernible melody. A club song, (I use the word ‘song’ loosely), can go on for ten minutes or more, and when it changes the next ‘song’ sounds exactly the same as the previous one.

The club we were in – aptly named ‘Insomnia’ was a massive, first floor establishment, almost devoid of seating and no decoration – it looked like an aircraft carrier. The management completely ignored the Thai smoking regulations and you could hardly breathe through the choking cigarette smoke which was potentially a fire hazard. There seemed to be only one small exit and if anything happened I am sure there could be a terrible tragedy.

Carnie and I let Noo and Sally bump and grind their bodies through an hour of this torture, before I called it a day and we made our way back to my car and home.

No more clubs or discos for at least ten years….

Despite the late night, we rose a little early for my guests’ final day in the ‘Land of Smiles’.  Our first stop was Naklua fresh fish Market, where Noo bought a load of sea food to cook at home at a little ‘farewell barbeque.

Below are some pics of Naklua beach area and the huge Naklua seafood market.

After loading up our seafood in cold chests stored in the car boot, (trunk), we stopped by a nearby tailor shop where I had arranged for Carnie to have two waistcoats made. I have known this particular tailor shop for a while now, (he made my wedding suit last year), and is one of the best tailors that I have come across in Thailand.

Here’s a pic of Carnie and his girlfriend, with Mr Paul, the tailor at his establishment, the somewhat ridiculously named ‘Prima Mode‘…

Our final stop was the Pattaya crocodile farm, which is located on the way to my home from Naklua.

The Crocodile Farm is an interesting but also a very disturbing place to visit. The gardens, together with the petrified stones and other massive rocks are breath-taking and very artistically displayed. Through the years I have taken many photos of these lovely gardens.

But the treatment of the animals there leaves much to be desired and can be quite upsetting. They stage an hourly crocodile show and it is obvious that cruelty must have been used in the training of these magnificently terrifying creatures which, uniquely, have survived millions of years of civilization and climate change.

Apart from the crocks, they have tigers, including white Siberian tigers, bears and even elephants that are chained up and the tigers are obviously drugged to keep them docile.

Some of the baby tigers had been de-clawed so that visitors could pay to feed them from giant milk bottles.. It is not a pretty sight and I can only hope that one day, something may be done about this.

But I had promised my guests a tour of Pattaya, warts and all, and that is what they got and they had no complaints. In fact, while deploring some of the things they had seen they also had a very sensible attitude to it all and understood that it is easy for us, in the west to complain about such things, but it wasn’t that long ago that we were doing a the same, if not worse things in our own country.

Victim of cruelty? – but probably by another crock…

This is probably the only animal in the park who is  free from cruelty

Below, some magnificent beasts – sadly chained and drugged…

Farang tour guides – Is it legal???

Back home, Noo cooked up a storm on the barbecue and we all stuffed ourselves silly before loading up the car and driving back to the airport to say our final farewells.

I had really enjoyed their brief stay and will miss them. They were nice folk.

On Tuesday, Noo and I are going to Cha Am and Hua Hin for 2 – 3 nights, so I will do my best to get out some sort of a blog on Wednesday or Thursday, and maybe even a few saucy pics for those who are suffering from withdrawal symptoms from Mobi’s bi-weekly, sexy snaps…

One year – 12 months – 52 weeks – 365 days – still sober.

Mobi-Babble

And what a year it has been!

On this day, one year ago, I was preparing to go out and have a few New Year drinks with friends around the lake, before returning home to spend New Year’s Eve with Noo, who at that time had been with me for about six weeks.

Over the previous few weeks, before and after Noo came to stay with me, I had been making my usual half-hearted attempts to quit the booze, sometimes stopping completely for several days at a time, and otherwise  generally keeping my drinking more or less within bounds, with the occasional and inevitable lapses when I would get totally rat arsed.

Here is an extract from my blog of 27^th December 2010:

When my friend Bob departed I somehow fell into the habit of having a few glasses of red wine during the evening whilst watching TV. I confess this wasn’t one of the smartest things for me to do and as ever, it finally got a bit out of control. Christmas Eve afternoon saw me in one of the Lakeside bars with a couple of my old drinking buddies, and after a couple of coffees I got stuck into the red wine. Late afternoon turned into evening and evening into the wee hours. I eventually crawled home at around 2 a.m. where I found Noo, still waiting patiently for me.

I didn’t wake up until Christmas afternoon and was not feeling great. Christmas meant nothing to Noo and my repast consisted of some heated up Thai vegetables with pork and a couple of cheese sandwiches. I seem to be making a habit of eating cheese at Christmas as I recall having a similar repast last year. But the big difference is that last year I was all alone and this year I had the delectable Noo for company.

I continued my habit of drinking a few glasses of red on Christmas evening, but after watching the excellent ‘Leaving Las Vegas’ on Christmas evening, I think I might have finally forsaken booze forever. (Where have we heard that before???).

I may have a couple of glasses of red on New Year’s Eve, but that will be that. New Year’s  Day is a great day to stop drinking and a great day to try to turn my life around and I that is what I plan to do. My drinking, apart from a couple of notable lapses has been much more moderate in recent months and I feel I am now ready to take that final step.

Predictably, my excellent intentions for New Year 2010/11didn’t exactly pan out as planned. Here is what I wrote in my blog of 2nd January, 2011:

As ever, I am not proud of my behaviour on New Year’s Eve. It started off innocently enough, at one of the Lakeside bar with two of my drinking buddies. I stuck to red wine but that didn’t stop me feeling pretty woozy a few hours later, especially as I had been drinking on an empty stomach.

Noo accompanied me to the bar but after a couple of hours watching me getting pissed with my mates, she was feeling pretty bored and decided to go to Pattaya and meet up with some friends for a few hours. So off she tooted on her motorcycle and left me to it.

I have only scant recollection of the next few hours but I did make it home, on foot, before midnight where I passed out on the sofa and ‘slept in’ the New Year. Although Noo won’t tell me exactly how I behaved and what I said to her, I can see from her mood and behaviour that I hadn’t exactly been full of love, joy and kindness. So yesterday morning, I expressed my deepest and profound apologies for whatever it is I may have said or done and I made a solemn vow to her never to touch another drop.

I think that in some perverse way, I knew that New Year’s Eve would be my ‘swansong’ as far as alcohol is concerned and it was probably this knowledge, as much as any other thoughts that caused me to drink myself into a stupor.

And the rest is history. Why? Who can say for sure? I guess I finally and irrevocably admitted defeat to the demon booze; the dreaded ‘John Barleycorn’ , as my Yankee AA friends used to say.

Earlier this year I started a debate on the Thai Visa internet forum about my thoughts, and experiences in AA and my subsequent extensive research into the effectiveness, or other otherwise, of the Alcoholics Anonymous organisation in getting alcoholics to quit drinking.

Unfortunately, the debate was cut short by well-meaning but extremely myopic and stubborn moderators who felt that the debate might deter people with a drink problem in seeking the help of AA. This was despite the fact that I stated over and over again that I still would recommend AA to anyone who had a drink problem.  

Indeed, I had drifted in and out of AA for a number of years and there is no doubt that I learnt much from that august organisation.Without their help in understanding the basics of alcoholism and being able to share my ups and downs with countless fellow alcoholics, I doubt that I would be sober today.

But in the end, for reasons that will be subject to a special blog item later this year, I came to believe that AA doesn’t work for everyone; indeed for some alcoholics, they are more likely to achieve long term sobriety outside of AA than with in it, and this has been borne out by extensive research.

There are countless thousands of alcoholics, throughout the world who rely on AA to keep themselves sober and cannot exist without regular attendance at meetings. These, on the whole, are the ones who have accepted the concept of a ‘higher power’ and rigorously try to follow all aspects of the 12 step programme, which, if done properly, involves a deep spiritual commitment.

This is fine for them and good luck to them. But for those of us who in the end cannot accept the dogma of the ‘Higher Power’ concept, then quite often, long term sobriety can be achieved on our own, without the need for a quasi-religious supplication. For us agnostics and atheists, long term attendance at AA meetings  can actually do more harm than good, as it tends to tear our minds apart, fills us full of doubts and makes us feel guilty if we cannot live up to the AA ideals. And when this is the case, what happens? We take a drink of course.

Nobody could question the altruistic ideals which encompass the principles of the AA 12 step programme and indeed this same12 step programme has been adopted by all kinds of organisations to deal with other addictions such as drug addiction and even sex addiction…

The 12 step programme contains many worthy ideals and precepts which every decent human being should strive to live by, and as stated above, there is much in AA that I took to my heart and found very beneficial in my struggles to stay sober.

Even when I made that final decision to stop drinking one year ago, I still had plans to go back to AA meetings, once I had got  30 days of sobriety under my belt. I still felt they could help me to achieve my aim – long term sobriety, even though I had considered, even accepted (for a while), but had ultimately rejected the concept of a Higher Power.

But one month led to two, and then to three and during this time I started to do some research on AA and discovered that the stats were simply not in their favour. The plain fact is that a great many alcoholics mange to  achieve long term sobriety on their own and the  relapse rate of alcoholics attending AA, though frustratingly difficult to ascertain due to the AA’s refusal to release crucial information, appeared to be alarmingly high.

So the course I embarked on became the DIY route, and the longer I remained sober, the more I realised that it was the right decision – for me. I will always be extremely grateful to the AA and to some of the wonderful people I met there; especially the ones who gave me support at my lowest ever monuments – and believe me, there were many.

Indeed, if it hadn’t been for a wonderful American who came to my rescue; literally picking me up from the gutter on Beach Road, looking after me and getting me sober, after I  had been on a three day non-stop binge, I doubt I  would be here today.

So it is with sadness that I reflect that Thai Visa didn’t have the common sense and foresight to let an intelligent debate on the merits of AA continue.

So here I am, one year chalked up and there is absolutely no doubt in my mind that I will never, ever touch another drop. The reasons? Well there are several.

First and foremost, as with that occasion many moons ago when I quit smoking, the longer I remain alcohol free, the more I feel it would be a terrible tragedy, and, to say the least, it would be a dreadful waste of all my hard efforts, if I were to succumb again. Indeed, I feel in my heart that if I were to even pick up another drink, it would probably signal the beginning of the end of my life and would mean that I had effectively thrown in the towel.

Then of course there are all the obvious reasons, especially the health benefits, (not forgetting I am a diabetic with coronary disease) ,the need to find a meaningful life outside of the bars and whorehouses of the world, the increasing cost of a drinking lifestyle and the untold harm I inflict on my nearest and dearest.

While I am in the is self-congratulatory frame of mind, I will also give myself a ‘well done’ for succeeding in weaning myself off anti- depressants at the end of February, 2011.

 I had been taking a high dose of antidepressants for a number of years and in spite of this, I went through a very black period in January 2010, when I came within an ace of committing suicide. I don’t know why I didn’t, for I felt there was no way out and that my life was truly over.  Alcoholic lethargy, as much as anything, was probably the reason I survived  although it would have been easy enough to achieve – all I needed to do was take a huge overdose of insulin and that would have been that.

But I didn’t, and at the urging of some well meaning folks on this blog, I went to seek the help of a therapist, and apart from helping me to come to terms with my situation, he also introduced me to a psychiatrist who prescribed me some new anti-depressants. These worked very well, even though I felt like a zombie for much of the time, but once I had quit the booze for good I realised that I couldn’t live the rest of my life as a ‘zombie’ and within 60 days, had succeeded in getting myself completely clear of them.

Dealing with my predilection for whorehouses and girlie bars took a little longer, and as my regular readers will know, I am still liable to the occasional lapse. But I am much improved in this respect, and have had to check back in my blog to find the last occasion that I entered a ‘den of ill repute’ – which was on 9th December. But that was my first foray for many weeks. I haven’t had any desire to return since, and have no plans to do so again in the near future.

This may sound terribly corny, but I am developing a very deep and abiding love for little Noo. Not the highly emotional, all-encompassing infatuation that characterised so many of my previous love affairs, but a love that has grown out respect for a kind, generous, honest, cheerful, easy going, lovely, sexy young lady who has succeeded in making me very happy in every conceivable way.

She has put up with a great deal from me during the past year, and for the future I will do my best to make her happy and do the right thing by her. I hope that I can.

So one year under my belt and where do I go from here?

Well I think I have achieved much but there is still a way to go to completely turn around my life.

On a mental level, I know that I spend far too much time worrying about things: my investments and my pension; the state of world economies which may have a disastrous effect on my income; how to be more productive and improve the quality of my daily life; my low blog readership levels, the slow progress of my novel, my health problems and how Iam going to pay for costly operations; all the myriad world problems – Arab uprisings, the riots and all the unbelievable evil in the world, and so on….

My new year’s resolution will be to stop worrying so much and try to enjoy what I have. I may be dead next year, so why worry about something that may never happen, and if something does, there’s nothing much I can do about it?

I must try very hard to live the Buddhist concept which is to live for ‘today’. Now is the time to be happy – not tomorrow or next month or next year – for it will never come. I know that, but it does take a great deal of mental adjustment.

At least I am in the right country to try and do this – as the Thai Buddhist culture is steeped in the live for ‘now’ philosophy. Through the years I have often wondered how Thais manage to stay so cheerful and happy-go-lucky when they do not know where their next meal is coming from, and I came to realise it is all down to their deeply embedded Buddhist philosophy – something I will try very hard to emulate in 2012.

But ‘living for today’ doesn’t mean that I abandon all attempts to put structure in my life. I know that I am weak- willed and at the slightest opportunity I will procrastinate.

I believe that as a recovering alcoholic I must try to organise my time, whether it is purely allocating a period of the day to read, or going shopping or taking Noo out for a meal, or getting down to slightly more serious pursuits such as keeping my personal and financial affairs up to date and properly organised, and keeping my blog going, and last but by no means least, continuing with my somewhat neglected novel.

There are other activities that I wish to do persevere with, such as photography, exploring Thailand, and taking regular exercise amongst others. So in theory I shouldn’t get bored – or depressed – or hanker for a drink or to go back to my old degenerate lifestyle.

I will be perfectly honest with you; I am not deliriously happy and there are still not infrequent occasions when I wake up feeling quite low. But I know that trying to make such major changes to my life at my age, with a lifetime of drinking behind me, is never going to be a ‘walk in the park’, and that I must soldier on and hope that eventually I will start to feel better about things.

I do know that when I start to procrastinate and put off doing the activities that I have previously decided I would carry out on a particular day, then I get depressed. The opposite happens when I succeed in sticking to my resolve and achieve something worthwhile.

I especially feel good about myself when I get stuck into my novel, and also, to a lesser extent when I am writing my blog, as these are ‘creative’ pursuits, which I now understand help to take me ‘out of myself.’

Whenever I – or indeed anyone – is totally immersed in a worthwhile activity, be it creative or whatever, they can free themselves of their ‘egos’ and truly live for the present. All their worries, fears, hopes, dreads, prejudices, hates, loves, resentments, emotions and all the other stuff that makes us not at ‘one ‘ with the world, disappear for those precious moments when we are totally immersed in ‘doing’ something we care about deeply. These rare moments are similar to the state of mind some people achieve when meditating; they are uplifting and are the very antithesis of depression.

So its onwards and upwards for 2012 and I will re-double my efforts to find a happy and contented life with my wonderful new partner.

My successes and failures will be faithfully recorded in this blog as the year progresses, along with my usual pithy comments on current affairs, Thai affairs, arts reviews, my Mobi-babbles, my outrageous comments and  diatribes on just about any subject that takes my fancy to write about on any given occasion.

Not forgetting, of course, to continue to entertain you with more of my selected Asian erotica….

On 2^nd January I have a ‘long lost friend’ and his girlfriend from my teenage years visiting me for a six day stay, en route from Australia back to the UK. This will be his first time in Thailand and I may take the opportunity to take the pair of them, plus Noo, out to a few places – night and day spots – so it will be a bit of a holiday break for all four of us, to celebrate and to start off the New Year in style.

Tonight, New Year’s Eve, Noo and I will spend the evening in, as the fireworks will be blasting into the sky from every conceivable direction, and our dogs will be beside themselves with terror.

So it will be an evening on the sofa watching telly with our three pooches, lying amongst us for protection from the wicked world of thunder flashes.

So it only remains for me to wish all my highly regarded and treasured readers a happy and prosperous New Year.

Don’t let the bastards drag you down…

BUTT…BUTT…BUTT… I don’t give a hoot!..

11 Months, 28 Days, still sober – Yes folks only 3 more days to go…..

Mobi- Babble

Here is the second part of my trip report.

On Thursday, Noo spent the day with her family, while I stayed back at the guest house doing my usual computer stuff. In the afternoon I decided to have break and took a long walk along the riverside, and thence to a nearby thoroughfare which led me to this Chinese temple, virtually in the middle of nowhere.

I then retraced my steps back through Taa Sadej market.

Where I found this interesting busker, trying to make a few Baht…

On Friday we rose quite early, and checked out of our room at Mut Mee Guest house in Nong Khai. We were soon on the road that follows the Mekong in a North Westerly direction, up through Nong Khai and into Loei province.

We made a quick stop at Tha Bo where Noo bought a new fridge for her Dad. His existing fridge is over 20 years old and is held together with rubber bands. It was so rusty that it was in imminent danger of electrocuting the next hapless person who tried to open the door.

Having arranged for a songtaow to deliver the fridge to his home a few kilometres away, we were back on the road which was becoming increasingly unsuitable for my low slung beamer. It was full of deep pot holes and deep fissures and in some places the road had disintegrated entirely into a dirt track littered with sharp rocks.

Some of the views of the Mekong along route 211 were quite spectacular; but the driving was very hard work, as for the most part I had to drive at extremely slow speeds and navigate our way along roads that could easily damage my wheels and/or suspension if I wasn’t extremely careful.

A Laotion truck on the Laos side of the Mekong. (Not bad zoom quality from my little Canon)

This little trip was starting to convince me that if I wanted to do any more of this ‘exploring’ up-country, then I would be better off changing out my vehicle for something more suitable.

After what seemed an eternity, we finally made it up to Chiang Khan and took a drive up a very steep mountain track to a huge Buddha and Wat that over-looked the Mekong.

We then made our way inland, but the terrain was still extremely bad, so by the time we finally made it to Phu Rua in Loei, the sun was setting and I was completely exhausted from the concentration involved in protecting my trusty BM from damage.

The road to Phu Rua -  one of the better stretches

There is a huge national park at Phu Rua which has a number of mountain ranges, waterfalls and other worthwhile views, which on a typical weekend attracts many Thai tourists. We discovered this to our cost as resort after resort was fully booked by Thai tour groups who were descending on the area in Busses and minivans for a weekend away.

We were starting to think we may have to spend the night in the car when we came across a delightful little place, a bit off the beaten track, which had simple, but very clean rooms available, at simple prices. The room was 400 Baht and very basic, but it had all we needed – a double bed and a bathroom.

As night descended, the temperature plummeted to around 12 degrees Centigrade and we both put on our winter woollies to keep warm. I even bought Noo a woolly hat which she didn’t take off until about noon the following day!

The place was empty when we arrived, but later in the evening a number of Thai guests arrived, who in time- honoured Thai fashion, turned on their stereo and proceeded to have a party, all of which we could hear through our paper thin walls. But I was so tired that it didn’t really bother me and before long I was sound asleep.

Just as well I got a few hours sleep, for the night was still upon us and the cocks had yet to get into high gear when our considerate fellow guests turned their radio on at full blast and we were treated to a rousing, early morning, music reveille.

When I had cleared my bleary eyes sufficiently to focus on my watch, I found that it wasn’t yet 6 am. But I reasoned, somewhat philosophically, that it was probably just as well, as we had a very long way to go if we were to make it back to Pattaya before sundown.

Much as I wanted to drive to the Phu Rua National Park and up to some of the scenic summits, I decided that if we were to do this, we may never make it back to Pattaya that day as we were now even further from home than when we were in Nong Khai; and we were also quite a long way from the major trunk routes.

Resolving that we would spend a day in Phu Rua National Park on the next occasion we went to Nong Khai, we headed off towards Dan Sai, before making the long trek home.

The road to Dan Sai was good and once again the views were spectacular as we travelled through the steep hills of Loei.

One of the major sights of Dan Sai is Wat Neramitr and we stopped off there to admire the beautiful temple and the murals that adorn its walls.

One of the many beautiful murals at Wat Neramitr. (I used a flash to cancel out the top light.)

I decided to drive back south on route 21 which runs all the way to Saraburi, via Petchabun. I had travelled this road several years ago when I stopped off in Petchabun on my way back from Chiang Mai, and found it to be a little used, very good, fast 4 lane highway. And so it proved to be again, and we made excellent time along the entire length of the road.

Again, there was some spectacular scenery en route, both in Loei and Petchabun, which also is a very mountainous province.

It was on the final leg of the journey, just when I was starting to feel rather weary, that I experienced the biggest problem of my journey. After driving through Saraburi, I headed east, past Nakhon Nayok towards Prachin Buri, with the intention of picking up route 331 which runs from Kabin Buri, all the way to Banglamung, near my home in Mabprachan.

I don’t quite know what happened, but I got to Prachin Buri OK but then  found myself on route 304, which I hoped would lead me to the 331 , but I ended up getting completely lost. By time I realised I was lost, I had driven quite a long way off my route. I was in fact heading back towards Kabin Buri, so what with retracing my steps and a more few false starts, I finally managed to find the elusive 331, after driving for an hour or more across country on a very slow, traffic congested, one lane road.

So it was home at around 5.45 pm, having been on the road since very early that morning, and to be honest, I think I am still recovering…

The dogs went ballistic as you might expect and the next day, Christmas Day, we had a quiet, restful day at home with them before deciding to go out in search of a turkey dinner in the evening. We failed miserably to find a suitable restaurant (they were either fully booked or weren’t doing anything special) and ended up sharing a pizza an empty restaurant just down the road from my home.

But it was fine – I’m not big on Christmases and Noo doesn’t know any different.

BUTT…BUTT…BUTT…BUTT…I don’t give a hoot!….

May I wish all my dear readers, both long suffering, and more recent aficionados, the very merriest of Christmases.

One way or another, it hasn’t been a great year for the human race, so I hope you all manage to forget about the world’s and your own problems for a day or so, relax and enjoy the festive season.

Your Darkside Blogger arrived back in Pattaya last night after a marathon, 9 hour plus drive, so today I am taking it easy, and getting my energy back. I shall update you on my recent travel adventures before the New Year.

In the meantime, here is a little gift from Mobi to you; a selection of festive womanhood. I hope you enjoy.