The Buck starts here…

It was Sunday. I was hi-diddly-happy. I had things to do, people to see, places to go. I set off early. I wanted to catch that worm. Into town I sauntered . People waved hello. I replied in kind. First stop was a general store. There’s the latest issue of TIME asia sitting outside. A whole feature on Avian Flu. My fave kind of flu. In like Flint. I’m starved of good printed news matter in these parts. Next to TIME asia is a 3 week old copy of the Daily Mail. It’s hardly surprising that it’s been sitting there so long: Who wants to read about asylum seekers & the Conservative party leadership race in sunny Ban Phe. Actually, I do. But The Daily Mail is something I glance at more for entertainment value than anything else. You’ve either got to laugh or cry. And I’d rather laugh. And rant a bit.

Next stop is the 2nd-hand bookshop. This is the only one of its kind in Ban Phe, and is owned by Jim, the husband of the woman who runs the only Irish pub for 100 K’s. He also organises the sweepstakes for every weekends premier league matches. I’m happy to report that I lost spectacularly. That’s 100 Baht I wont be seeing again for a while. I swap a book with one of Jim’s & he gives me some advice about my upcoming trip to Cambodia. Apparently getting from the border to Siem Reap is a 12-hour minibus ride from hell. I cannot wait.

Then I got me hair cut. Looking smooth. & finally I bought myself some swimshorts. Big, blue, flowery, lots of pockets. I’m set for the wet…

A few hours later & 4 of us are on a songthaew to the Novotel hotel, a 10 minute drive down the beach. This place was seriously nice. First stop: the restaurant. I needed a sandwich. Decent sandwiches are hard to come by. I order a club. Eating it, I begin to feel part of one. I read some of my TIME magazine. Apparently the U.S made some serious errors in the aftermath of their invasion of Iraq. You live and learn.

Then it’s pool time. I face up to the side, my toes curling over. I tense. I dive. I plunge into the smooth blue water. I swim a few feet, then head to the side. I clamber out. What’s that digging into my thigh? Oh, it appears to be my asthma inhaler. Must have forgotten to take it out of my pocket. Hmmm, is that something rattling in my other pocket? Oh yes, it’s that packet of mints I bought earlier. Could there be anything else hidden in the Aladdins cave of pockets that are my new blue shorts? Yes there could. My sopping wet wallet. I remove it from its waterlogged burrow & squeeze out the excess water. Everybody laughs. I laugh. Bucky is a plonker.

A few games of ping-pong, a plunge in the jacuzzi. The cash is slowly drying out. Phone numbers are smudged but still just about legible. Bucky is still a plonker. But .Sunday sure was a Fun day!

It’s 2a.m. & I can’t sleep…

The story begins on August 10th when this happened. I thought at the time I was just eating a locust. Little did I realise that I had severely pissed off the entire insect community. Well… tonight they got their payback..

The last few days I have become gourmet cuisine for mosquito’s. Other people’s blood tastes like Lambrini. Mine tastes like Moet. I can’t help the fact that my blood is delicious. It’s just one of those things..

So the insect community started off their payback by sending an army of mozzies on a Buck-Suckin quest. But the Buck is prepared. I have insect repellant, & better yet I have tiger balm. Tiger balm is an ointment made from camphor oil & er, some other stuff. It soothes insect bites. It also helps heal cuts. Oh, & it sorts out muscular aches. In fact there is nothing that tiger balm can’t cure. I haven’t tried amputating a leg and smearing tiger balm on the stump to make it grow back, but I’m willing to bet it would work. If someone else wants to try this then I’ll happily supply a free jar of tiger balm & a congratulatory pack of Rolo’s.

Phase 2 in the (slightly belated) insect retaliation for my consumption of their locust brother took place earlier this evening. I was walking home to the english school from dinner at a friends place. I walk past Mike’s house. Mike, as you may recall, introduced me to the locust back in August. Mike is standing on his porch with a mop outstretched in front of him. He calls me over. Over I go.

“What’s with the mop dude?”

I ask. He points at an overturned bin a few feet away.

“Check out the size of this fucker!”

He replies, as he flips the bin with the mop. A spider the size of Wales leaps out. Mike sweeps at it with the mop and the spider is knocked into the air & out of sight.

I continue my walk home. Upon arrival I chat to some of my fellow trainees for a while, & then I head upstairs to my room. As I’m opening my door I spot a cockroach the size of Cardiff sitting on it. Before I can spin him a spiel about having a headache and not wanting to share my bed tonight, the fucker is in. Ok. No biggie. I’ll just turf him out. Or kill him. It’s neither here nor there. He seems remarkably keen on hanging out however. & then I lose sight of him. I search high & low. I use a hanger to poke behind the cupboard and under the bed. I’m searching for maybe 20 minutes. But I can’t find him. Ok. He must have crawled under the door or through the air vent or something. And even if he is still in the room, I’m the size of Africa. Africa Vs Cardiff. Africa’s got to be the favourite. And Africa’s keeping that hanger close to hand just in case…

I turnn out the light and try & get some sleep. The howling dogs outside aren’t aiding my effort, but I start to drift off regardless. “Hmmmmm“. A low pitched hum awakens me. Where is it coming from? Am I the source of this low pitched hum? Is my bum making a hum? Or my tum? I turn on the lights. You’ll never believe who’s standing next to me. “Where have you been hiding Trevor?” I ask the cockroach as I shoo him out the door with my trusted hanger. I dont want him sneaking back in underneath. So I use some dirty shirts to plug the gap. And that’s when I notice another soldier in the insect revenge squad. Except strictly speaking he was an arachnid. Not as big as Mike’s Welsh visitor. But Brighton sized to be sure. This time I’ve had enough. The hanger gets used in a less benign manner…

So I’d like to take this opportuity to publicly apologise to the locust I ate on August 10th, and to any surviving family members he might have. I have offended against you & your community & I will endeavour in future to eat things of a sufficient size & temperament to ensure I receieve no more nocturnal score-settlers.

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