Remembering The Dead

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Yet another week in the life and times of Mobi has slipped by.

In some ways, Lek and I are still re-adjusting back to a more ‘normal’ existence after our lives were thrown into disarray by running a bar for the past 6 months.

Certainly there are no regrets that we sold up as neither of us had imagined just how much work is entailed in running a bar, and the extent that our daily lives would be subsumed by our myriad bar duties.

I hasten to add that many folk who open bars never spend anywhere near the amount of time and energy that we did at Mobi’s.

Once the bar has been bought and staffed, most owners more or less let the bar run itself, nominally putting their cashier in charge. The obvious consequence of this that the bar enjoys sparse  business and becomes a  constant drain on the new owner’s resources.

Sometime, in the not too distant future, I will allow myself the luxury of writing a piece about my six months as a bar owner, warts an’ all, and reveal a few secret thoughts and truths that hitherto have remain hidden.

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Remembering The Dead

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When Princess  Di was killed in a Paris road tunnel, so many thousands upon thousands of  flowers were laid at the gates outside Kensington palace, that a visitor from outer space may have been forgiven for thinking the world had gone mad. Never had there been such a display mass hysteria over the death of someone of whom 99% of the mourners had never even met, let alone ever spoken to.

Ever since then, whenever there is a personal tragedy on the streets of Britain – when someone is murdered or has died in some a terrible accident – usually a child or a young lady – that within the space of a few hours,  the local florists are busy stocking up  to satisfy the utterly predictable upsurge in demand  for flowers and bouquets.

Corners of streets and pavements would become instant gardens of remembrance, and if it is a child who has tragically died, not content with flowers, the local toy and teddy bear shops along with card shops find their shelves emptied of stock  as children’s toys are bought up and appear at the site of the tragedy, along with short notes of remembrance in scented, and no doubt tear stained, envelopes. All this from people who never knew the victim.

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Has The Whole World Gone Mad? 


I admit that I spend too much time playing with my smart phone.

However, my ‘smart phone’ activities are almost certainly dissimilar to those carried about by a majority of the phone-owning, younger generation.

For most of my life I used to read the read the news in ‘real’ newspapers – you know those large paper sheets covered with newsprint that used to make your hands dirty. The Daily Telegraph was my newspaper of choice but in Thailand it was always the Bangkok Post.

But times change, and these days I find the internet is a great way to read the news, much of it from my smart phone.

I read the BBC sports news, and then the BBC general news. After that, I sometimes read the Guardian and the Independent news and also occasionally click on any Yahoo breaking stories that catch my attention. I save the Telegraph for reading online from my laptop.

All this news is free of charge, and if I was even more passionate about the news, I could continue to read news 24/7 – from dozens upon dozens of different internet sources.

I also use my smart phone for reading my incoming emails – of which there are quite a number these days.

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