Soggy Notes
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!
Tags: Thailand, Thailand
The Dude
Who are you? Why have you wasted my precious remaining hours upon the earth with stories about finding mints in your knickerbockers? You sir are a rapscallion. Have you no friends with which to bother with your infernal blather? I demand satisfaction upon your return to the mother country, providing you survive avian flu.
Cheerio,
Lionel Mandrake KPG CBE MMR Esq.
Well Lionel..I am an enigma. The mints are symbolic of a wider spiritual malaise that is enveloping the consciousnesses of the masses…I have no friends. Only brothers & sisters in the search for elightenment…
Who are you?
plonk