Careless Whisper

rag

As you can imagine, I’ve met some good people on my travels…Robin Gibb is now Robin Gidd albeit he’s a bit of a God Squad type whose enthusiasm for the lord almighty is equaled by his equal opportunities opinion on downing shots and buckets all the while having a better beard than me and a spherical pal called Wilson. 

Another Robin I have met is a Swedish guy who works at my day job that reminds me of Chet, a guy I lived with for 4 years that would go to a club in Speedos and work out in public, Muscle Street doesn’t have the same ring to it as Muscle Beach when you think about it but that’s how I met him and the reason he’s my friend…he can play Careless Whisper on the Saxophone and takes no shame in putting his weight bench out on the street on a sunny day or getting his Dad to reinforce his bed with steel. 

Robin talked me into doing a ‘photo shoot’ with a girl he had been conveniently riding on the side who looked a lot like the girl from the Nickelback Video for How You Remind Me.  My wife was understandably appalled at the thought of this girl, who was in her eyes sexy as France writhing about the surf gien it big licks with her chebs oot.  In reality, she turned up at 9am for her shoot on the beach with a (pure blaggin it) ‘professional photographer’ looking like she had just got out of Auschwitz but with a worse hangover, bruises and everything.  The sun wasn’t really shining and I tried to tell her that it wasn’t worth it as she was simultaneously applying makie up and vomiting in the bathroom.  I gave it a bash and Robin turned out way better than her, as he has been a model, a dancer and also a contestant on Swedish Big Brother (either 2004 or 2006) and knew how to pose and the likes.

So, I’m on the beach giving it the whole ‘oh, the light’s not right’ chat while he is telling her to ‘unleash her inner tigress’ and get sexy ‘like the movie wild things’.  When she still didn’t look like much he promptly told her that she ‘looked like a cow’ in Swedish, which made me like this guy even more.  Robin, as I mentioned is professional dancer and he is most at home in the bar at night when he incites the crowd to join him in the ‘Cha Cha Stomp’ which for those of you unaware is a song much like the Macarena. 

He somehow gets them all going and even more surreally manages to look good doing it.  I love to watch the faces on the crowd when it gets to the bit where he sings “Charlie Brown’ as if it’s a dance move every one should know like ‘Stomp to the left, 2 times’. I put it down to the particularly peculiar night we were having, not only had the drains been cleared out and the whole place smelled of rank excrement but it was also the offical ‘SUPERMOON’ – the point in which the moon is closest to the Earth in more than 2 decades.  It actually was a really big, bright moon and quite impressive but what was more impressive was the effect it seemed to be having on the tides and the weather.  The tide would come in and out by a good 200 yards every 20 minutes…some say all the natural disasters are due to the supermoon but I’m not sure.

I’m writing this blog after the ‘what’s your favourite fish?’ couple incident.  I tried to interject with a wee bit of comedy only to be met with an icy response.  The male of the couple’s answer to the fish conundrum was ‘the yellow one’, ‘that’s Skype’ she said as I interjected with ‘no. that’s the blue one!’  Once again, wit has not prevailed but I need to consider that I am sitting by myself in a bar surrounded by people in shorts while wearing a denim jacket.  There can be only one.

I’m away to wind up a guy I don’t like the look of that’s playing pool in the bar I’m in, to me these are the best kind of wind ups.  My favourite on this trip so far was almost convincing a guy he should call his band ‘Ghostbusters 2’, everyone already knows it and no-one will expect it, he was almost convinced.  I am a dick.

Fuck You Izzard

“Excuse me” said a very chirpy looking fellow from Denmark as I was working the other day.  “Aye?” said I, “Should I beware of Monkey Thieves?”.  At this moment I was thinking he might have been a student who had overdosed on Eddie Izzard in 1999 and still thought it funny to see humour in putting incongruous words together and putting on a funny voice.   But, alas, no, he was serious!  He informed me that an ape had been coming to his hotel room at the same time for the last two days and he had been warned that people train monkeys to steal cameras and wallets for their devious owners.  I was as polite as I could be and told him that he should always beware of everyone, especially with his valued possessions but I still really wasn’t buying it.  It turned out that he was just an unrealistically happy man and was indeed being stalked by an ape, his wife showed me a video they had taken that day of the simian in question trying his best to pry open his patio door, the funniest part about the whole thing though was hearing him saying in the video “oooh noo you ditnt!” in his best Hoochie Mama/Danish tone as the monkey brushed off his shooing and pelting of the glass.  I guess you had to be there, and I guess I wish I had been, even if only to see if the monkey was taller than me.

There is absolutely no chance Holly and I will fall victim to any such aping around as we have now moved to a new gaff with a, wait for it …’Mountain View’!  I’m quite a fan of a wee embellishment of the truth here and there but when your mountain vista is a pane of glass with a sheer rock face one inch apart you have to concede wan tae you and just laugh about it.  We live above a Bike shop and have to raise the noisy shop shutter every time you enter then run the mosquito gauntlet to the room.  Our landlord seems a funny chap that may have been a victim of a shark attack.  The reason I comment is that I see him sans tap practicing his golf swing with a weighted putter and he has an awesome (in my mind) shark enduced scar on his torso.

Tonight I went to work at the nighttime job after working all day and it turned out I wasn’t needed, as the island is getting quieter.  Common courtesy comes into play when you see a staff member sitting there for an hour and a half and your response when he storms out is ‘were you wanting to work?’.  ‘No, I love hanging out in restaurants on my own’. 

In a moment of slight revenge but really just desperation I went to a bar doing 150 baht buckets for Happy hour when I was overcome by the strongest compulsion for a shite.  This bar, as you have probably guessed by the prices doesn’t have the nicest of cludgies so I found myself using a check pad from the night job to wipe my derriere with. Not the most glamorous I’ve ever looked but in comparison to the toilet I was in I was Shirley Bassey on her throne singing ‘kiss me, honey, honey, kiss me’.  The lack of toilet roll or even a ‘Thai Style Bum Shower’ must be apparent to you by now but it gets even worse.  The bottom of the cubicle door seemed to have teeth where it has been kicked in or rotted away that looked like the warnings on cigarette packets.  Strangely though there was one brief convenience for this inconvenience in the form of a rusty nail for hanging your coat, or breeks on…it was a strange kindness in some way and I am thankful for that in some way.  Maybe Buddha is getting to me?

Anyway, the world still looks like it’s going to shit.  After the Japan thing I didn’t watch the news but when I did take a sneak peak I saw that the world seems to have invaded Libya promoting what looks like WWIII.  I guess that’s what happens when you let Mickey Rourke run a country, he was good in Angel Heart and The Wrestler but he seems to have went more aff his nut this time than when he turned down a career getting his head sooked in soft porn with Kim Bassinger to getting his head pummeled in a boxing ring.  I hope Stallone takes his place.

Enough for now, I need to get back to some ‘proper’ writing and ignore the couple beside me asking each other ‘what’s your favourite fish?’ and set about meeting the most Scottish, not Scottish guy in the world and Robin Gibb with the best beard in the world for a light refreshment and ‘beard off’ under a kerosene coated skipping rope.

More to come soon as my good friend Dan and I are planning a wee trip around South East Asia with a crutch each.

Crag

Cock Tales

My internal misery has been brought to my attention more times than I care to mention by my other half, but if I’m honest I’ve just been doing a lot of thinking.  Imagine a shorter, bearded version of Rodin’s sculpture with a drink in his other hand.  I proffered to myself that it might have been the lack of a good vista from our insanely blue cell of a room or possibly the lack of a good, healthy, smiling visage on my part.  As mentioned prior in my ‘downer’ of a blog…I’ve started working here and now I have started working two jobs.  The point in all this is not only to offset the cost of living but also to offset the boredom.  I realized that I haven’t been in the sea or indeed the sun for over two weeks now and the tan I gained from frolicking on the beach and suffering in the shade has completely faded to a shade of white not far from ‘eggshell’ or whatever that hairy Patrick Bateman dog from Dulux is currently calling white.  At least I’m the only one here without a tan which does set you apart from the hordes of Swedish Gigolo dancers that vie, topless, fruitless and mindless for the attention of any girl with a heartbeat and a risk of a slipped nipple.

At work I have been working a beach bar by myself during the day which I really quite enjoy to be honest, although, not once have I felt like Tom Cruise in Cocktail (maybe I should call this blog ‘Cock Tales’??) when he moves to Bermuda or wherever it was. 

When the bar is a hut on the beach you don’t get the amenities you would expect of such an establishment, e.g. a sink or an ice machine.  A Swedish guy owns the place and all the staff seem to be Swedish so I’m not sure how they are taking to me yet.  On the plus side, I get to play my own music all day with a perfect, postcard view and I always strive to provide table service in the pursuit of the elusive ‘tips’ of which I’m allowed to keep in this job.  In the other bar I work for around 3 hours a night notching up about £6 for the whole shift and all the tips go to the Thai staff as they work the whole day and night for even less.  This is understandable I suppose, but equally depressing as you can imagine.  So, in the place you get to keep your tips I’ve found myself to be quite an outgoing wee character, much to the surprise of myself and no doubt to my friends from home.  Racking up 1000 Baht in tips in one shift shows me that I’m changing my ways a little bit and after all I suppose that’s what travel and experience should do to you. 

There is still some abject misery in my soul however when I think that I’m doing almost exactly what I was doing ten years ago for a fraction of the pay.  I get to meet some nice people though, I always say that manners cost nothing and you should treat people as you wish to be treated yourself and you would think that the ‘travelling community’ would be a bit more self aware when it come to this sort of thing but I soon realized that there seems to be no community at all here, only Japanese holidaymakers insanely taking pictures of themselves draped over items as exotic as a wall near a beach or a sign advertising ‘PIZZA!!!!’ and then the aforementioned ‘call me rude boy, boy’ types that are here to spend and be spent.

Back to the strange suggestion that I’m being a bit more outgoing and talkative…the night-time, nightmare restaurant job I have needs someone to stand on the street with a menu offering up the services and special offers and I’ve found that I’ve actually quite enjoyed it.  The funniest thing for me is imaging if I was standing on a street in Glasgow shouting ‘Hud Yur Dinnnerrrrrr hen??’ would be absurd, down right cheeky and would be responded to with a swift kick to one’s coupon.  For those of you that aren’t Scottish, I’ll enlighten you to two things…firstly, one’s coupon is an affectionate term for one’s visage and secondly asking a lady if she has ‘had her dinner’ means ‘Have you had sex?’ and even more obtuse is asking someone if they ‘want their dinner?’ something you couldn’t get away with at home but I take great pleasure in presenting the ‘special offers’ while I’m here.

We will be ‘flitting’, or moving home tomorrow and I’m planning on spending a little more money to have a nice sea view and a bit of sunshine to wake you up in the morning, maybe it’ll make me feel a little better about the world and I’ll be a shiny, happy person.  Until then, I’ll keep to my introverted ways and ponder my surroundings as best I can.

Will do a new blog soon as this one has been short due to distraction.  I’ve met some nice people and had some new experiences that will surely keep you amused.

Crag

Downer

So yesterday I turned the grand old age of 29, a day not many people really look forward to but at least it’s not as bad as the grand ole’ 30.  If I said I had a nice enough wee day, I’d probably be lying.  In the morning I had some excellent presents from the wife.  I’d asked for Strongbow, a foursome and some Berocca and it turns out Strongbow is the hardest to source of the trio.  I got some some crackers though.  Magners for breakfast, Berocca for lunch, an AC/DC vest, a cowboy shirt and some books, which I’d already read but with my booze addled brain I figure it’s not a big problem to read them again then trade them for some new ones.  That was a good start to the day, even if the Strongbow and the foursome never materialized.

We went out for some birthday cocktails with a spring in our step and they had CNN on all the TV’s with the volume up. This is quite a rarity for where we are as you can imagine, it’s hard enough trying to figure out what day it is when you’ve lost your phone and there are no newspapers in English etc…  It turned out that there had been a massive earthquake in Japan and a Tsunami that followed and totaled everything in its path. 

I already knew the world was going to shit and that was one of the reasons I moved away from home anyway. Since I’ve been away there had been the Earthquake in Christchurch, New Zealand…pretty much one of the last places anyone would have expected it and now this in Japan.  I got to thinking of the Tsunami that wiped out where I’m sitting right at the moment in 2004, I think??  You see, there are no news channels on here, nobody watches the news and no one seems to read the papers so there was no early warning at all.  I can imagine 2 wee Jimmy Thai guys sitting on the beach and one asking “Does that look like a big fucking wave to you?” and the other guy going “aye, it does like” and then next thing you know they’re all dead.  It’s nothing that anyone would expect and probably a sight no one had seen the likes of before so to say they were surprised is undoubtedly an understatement.  I saw on the news how fast the wave in Japan was moving and was just lifting trucks, houses and boats along with it and that shit really is scary.

The reason I was so worried was because one of my best friends has just moved to Tokyo and had already been in an accident the week prior and was on crutches, had a broken nose and 2 black eyes that made him look like the Hamburglar.  It wasn’t that I was worried the anniversary of his death would forever mar my birthday but for once in my life I was really, really worried and all communications were down in that neck of the woods so I had the whole day with that on my mind.  To top that off my family called to wish me well and also that my Mother had suffered a stroke.  She’s OK now but has been told to take it easy which is not as easy as it sounds for my Mum…she has and always will be a pure grafter.  I told her it was time to retire, she said she was too young to retire, I said she was too young to be having fucking strokes!  It seems like my family are falling apart and although I never really go home to see them when I’m in Scotland I know how easy it will be if ever I need to.  Now though, getting home is not so easy so she better start taking it easy or I’ll do her in myself.  Mum, I know you read this so take heed, afore’ yer deed.  Enough said. Holly had also taken on a new job and was working 4pm til’ 10pm also and I had some time to kill aswell.  So, all in all not the best start to my 29^th year!

In a moment of lighter relief a couple from New Zealand we had met a couple of days earlier that had a taste for the bevvy not too dissimilar to my own sent me a text wanting to meet up and get me a birthday drink.  I took them up on this and spent the rest of the day drinking beers, buckets and shots with them until Tanzi got a sudden case of ‘heat stroke’, I’m no doctor but I’d call it ‘bucket stroke’ any day of the week!  We went to a few more bars and I got a ton of free drinks and buckets until Hol finished work and we went to see a live band play in a rock bar. 

Around midnight I got a call from Dan, the friend who lives in Tokyo saying he was alright and the worst thing that happened to him was trying to fit his chin under his work desk then having to walk 9km home on crutches.  At this point, in a mixture of relief and inebriation I got quite joyful much to the distaste of my wife who couldn’t handle me changing the words to every song to ‘Cowboys from Hell’.  Lassies, pffft.  We both have the night off on Sunday so I’m sure we’ll make the most of that one.  Cowboys Fae Hell!!!

I decided to call it a night at this point as I was only gonna get more annoying , and she would get subsequently more annoyed as the night progressed so hit the sack and fell straight asleep and missed my scheduled Skype date with my friends at home.  I woke up with a jolt in the morn though and went for a proper Skype wank with a wee tert called Div who lives in Brighton.  Was nice getting some decent patter again but people in the bar were looking at me like I had 3 heads or something with the fully ‘Scottish’ patter we were having about locking guys in bin sheds and waking up surrounded by dead pigeons.  Again, enough said!

In other news, working 2 jobs and having to stay on the same Island for a while is getting me a bit down.  I’m doing all the exact opposite things that people come to this island to do, sunbathe, relax and taste the delights of the worlds women.  I have had a wee bit of time to do some writing and catch up on the photography bit, which helps.  I actually got one of my pictures used as a magazine cover for one of the tourist magazine that goes out to all the islands around here, a pretty good first step which has brought a few wee sneaky ideas to mind for me.  The walking wounded and official Tsunami survivor is supposed to be coming to see me the first week in April, so if he can make it I’m looking forward to some good times and a bit of time off with ma pal.

This has been a bit of a downer of a blog but as I’ve said before I want it to be a bit of a diary for myself as well that will capture this highs as well as the lows.  Bear with me though, I have some funny stories to tell and I’ll be a bit cheerier later.  It’s raining like hell here today and I’m the only guy on the island with a hat and a jacket so I’m gonna enjoy a good bit of rain before work.

Crag

‘You know when you’ve been Thatchered’

I’ve been pretty busy of late looking after my terminally ill wife during the day and working at night.  I’m starting to think she may have caught something from my pee.

I’ve started a job as a waiter at night times, it was originally to keep myself busy while Holly was doing her dive course.  I didn’t really think I would get work so easily so I started immediately and have been working every night for pretty much pennies. 

The way I look at it is, what else would I be doing between 6 and 12 at night apart from spending money and getting drunk in some bar.  I might as well offset that with a little bit of money, a free meal and free drinks.  I don’t know if you’re aware but it is illegal for me to work here so you always have to be on the lookout for the polis.  Although I’m getting paid hee haw, the thais get even less and work harder hours than the Farangs.  It has to be said though, the amount of nationalities that come through the door are hard enough for me to deal with and English is my first language so I don’t think it would work too well with the Thais front of house in this place. 

If they had such lax laws at home I think it would be a much better place.  In the UK you need a licence to fart and even then you have to specify which type, silent but violent, eggy and runnin’ doon’ the leggy or at the very worst throwing your boxers out of the bathroom window!  I think all the controversy started with Tango and Shell Suits. 

A bold Statement I know but please give your protagonist a minute to explain.

When I was young there was outrage and uproar about the wearing of a shell suit (google it if you’re under 20) in the vicinity of a radiator to the point that we had to change how the school assembly was laid out.  We all sat on the floor you see and if you were near the sides then you were of course, near the radiators and if you were unfortunate then you would self combust and it would be an investigative matter for Mulder, Scully and probably Jimmy Saville. 

I was rocking a JJB Sports or a Naff Co number at this point, as were most of my cohort’s pre 1990 and we liked to ‘lean’, just like in Grease when the T-Birds are wearing their leather jackets, look closely, they are always leaning.  I guess it’s just a thing guys in cool outfits do! 

So, the shell suit thing already gave me an idea of how the world was turning.  Thatcher had already taken the free milk away from the classroom but that didn’t bother me and now I come to think of it, that may be the reason I’m barely pushing 5’6”.  Actually fuck you Thatcher, I always thought you were OK cos’ you made me last that extra minute or two but now it’s game over. 

Some years later there was the issue with Tango, not only a spirited dance but an orange flavoured beverage favoured by the youth of Scotland back in the day.  They had an advertising campaign that stated ‘You know when you’ve been Tango’d’ and you certainly did as unsuspecting children were slapped directly on both ear drums by all and sundry followed by a ringing in your ears and a faint ‘Tangoooooooo’d’ from every kid in the playground.  The press went bananas over all this, which in my opinion should have made them bring out a banana flavour and the act replaced with throwing bananas at folk but, as controversial as that is, the racists had already used that one I suppose.  Back on topic, the world is crazy!  As much as I love home I really don’t like the way the government are getting new money for old rope with all the new exercises in licensing laws and the like.  The whole world looks like it’s falling apart and that’s the main reason I wanted to escape.  While I’m here all I see on the news is ‘Iffy Cairo’, earthquakes in New Zealand and the cost of everything going up so the recession will hit even harder.  Too depressing for this blog.  D.U.N – Done.

Last night I made a wee mistake with the Thai lady manager/chef and she took the complete nip with me.  There are certain boundaries that Thai people have,  like touching their heads, showing the soles of your feet or slagging off the royal family.  It’s basically the equivalent of calling someone’s newborn baby a prick…you just don’t do it!  Anyway, the lady in question has a boyfriend, a big Swedish lad I think that looks like he would split her in half.  My boss commented that she was walking funny, maybe because she was tired or even drunk. That one flew until I commented that it may be due to the extraordinary (as in, not ordinary for her 5’ frame) girth that her muscle bound partner no doubt had and then done my best John Wayne impression. 

She didn’t really get the comment until I performed ‘the walk’ and then once it sank in, all hell broke loose.  Menu’s flying everywhere and crying in the toilets and the like.  I’m pretty used to mad lassies as I’m sure you can imagine but this one just wouldn’t accept my apology then when she did she got drunk and let loose her vendetta once again, although this time usually with her Hulk of a boyfriend in tow.  I was already in a mood from the horrendous patter coming from some English guy whose birthday it was so arguing or scrapping wasn’t an issue (especially as I had met an American Marine with the frame of a smart car 5 minutes prior). 

To be fair, he brought some persons to the bar but my instant impression was that I would like to take a bar to his person.  The island is full of these types, you see more species’ of, for want of a better word…’shite’ guys on this island than you see of fish in the reef. 

You get the just turned 18 traveler types who are as high on buckets as they are on daddy’s money, the slightly more refined travelers who are here to dive (they just can’t put ‘Scuba Muff’ on the signs), the ladies men/model types who come here to work on their tan and cunnilingus before returning to London Town looking like the opposite of their paler peers.  Now, imagine all these types, from all corners of the world and all the shades of tan in between and then think about the worst. 

The most refined, the consummate gentleman, the educated and the over 30 but not quite 40 specimen.  He spends his days at the beach competing in team sports, draping his manhood over his shoulders and if that’s not enough there’s always a gym workout to sweat out last nights decadence and tone up their last Christmas dinner.  To me these guys are the worst; how they can spend so long here is beyond me…actually it’s not.  These guys get laid every night, swap numbers, facebooks and emails then converse at board meetings after fat free dinners flaunting photos and swapping sex manuals.  Maybe I just don’t like them because they have no interest in talking to me (a wee hint of boob but just a bit too much boab) as I’m the only married man under 30 on the whole island.  I can’t really hold it against them though, I imagine the winter of their youth has been more fun than my actual youth was and as everyone knows…men get better looking with age and chicks just dig an older guy.

Before I talk myself into divorce and a career in Beach volleyball I’d better change the subject.  Sleeping has been a bit better, still sweaty as always but you can buy Valium over the counter here for 10p so if you’re really struggling, like I was last night, then it’s an easy option.  That stuff gives you crazy dreams though. 

I woke up feeling like Allen Ginsberg but less gay.  Or maybe not actually, I just remembered that I was dreaming about being hugged by Manta Rays, but they had heads like angels with dreadlocks!  That’s pretty lavender I suppose but by no means the strangest of the dreams I’ve had of late.

That was a 15 minute brain fart and I need to start work now.

Adios.

Pagger wi a Swagger

Since I’ve been away I’ve been relatively well behaved with the ole’ bevvy and trouble and the likes but the last couple of days I’ve had a wee hankering for a bit of patter so I set about finding some.

First we went to a place called the Reggae bar, which has a boxing ring in the middle of the bar, and really cheap booze filled buckets.  I didn’t go there with the intention of fighting as I had already had a fight the week before but after a bucket or two a scrap was on the cards.  A wee guy, who we’ll call Jimmy (as everyone is called in Thailand) walks around with a big sign that asks for fighters to come up, if they do they get a free bucket.  I was pretty into the idea of a free bucket as we were getting a bit worried about cash so I thought I’d give it another bash. 

My opponent, to my surprise was around the same height as me (so he’s the one!) which suited me fine as tall people with a much bigger reach punching down on you does nowt for your beauty, or your confidence.  I asked him if he was a boxer and he told me he wasn’t.  You see a lot of guys fighting up there that really take it seriously and most of them are in Thailand to train at the Muay Thai Gyms with the best in the world, Tong Po and all that.  So, he tells me he doesn’t box, which may have been true,  he didn’t speak a lot of English but then he started warming up doing high kicks well above his head height.  I found out from his pal that he was a Karate instructor in France so I got a bit worried but didn’t want to give too much away.  Around 10 years ago I studied Tae Kwon Do and got to a really good competitive level at it but 10 years caning it with the best in the business seriously degrades your skill, stamina and confidence to fight a French Karate expert.

I kept it quiet and tried to stretch my legs as best I could under the table so I could at least kick him in the head then we were called to the ring.  They play Eye of the Tiger and The Final Countdown when you’re getting in the ring and between the rounds so I hammed it up a bit and did a wee dance in my Thai Boxing shorts which surprisingly got a good round of applause from the audience, I’m a wee dick.

The last time the bell rang for the first round the guy I was fighting came out like a whippet on eccies so this time I wanted to come out fighting.  To my surprise I landed 2 head kicks straight away and the rest of the fight went really well.  My balance isn’t what it used to be but the Frenchie got a kicking.  I was pretty pleased, 2 out of 2 but I can almost guarantee I’m gonna get my teeth knocked out by a Russian Mafia Don or a pre op transsexual with an attitude problem next time I decide to go up.

I spent the next day taking some photographs, which was quite fun, if not a bit lonely. I spent at least half an hour chasing a dragonfly trying to get a good picture of it in flight.  I managed to get a few but I realize that I don’t really have the equipment for it so the results aren’t exactly up to national Geographic standards.  Another thing I notice from walking around this Island all day and night is that there are only about 5 bloody songs on repeat in every bar, club or restaurant.  This can get a bit grating after an hour.  I also decided to get myself a wee haircut so found a guy we’ll call Jimmy Barber who was pretty much the best barber I’ve ever seen and would put anyone in the UK to shame.  He gave me the exact haircut I wanted, a shave, a massage and cracked my neck, which had been giving me hassle for a wee while…all for 4 pounds!  I highly recommend him

 That night we went for dinner with my better half, where we met a couple of nice English girls who had just arrived on the Island so we took them out to some of the good spots.

I don’t really know what got into me, apart from buckets of course!  I also had a day of boredom while Holly was diving which won’t have helped matters.  We went to some beach bar called Slinky’s and there was a policeman with a gun keeping an eye on things. 

I deemed it a good idea to stand behind him making ‘gun gestures’ with my fingers to the back of his head and the like.  As if that wasn’t bad enough…some burly Dutch guy with his shirt off and some UV paint on him started hitting on the English girls and I thought it would be a good idea to start hitting on him! 

He tried to shake my hand and I obviously refused and went for the more refined gesture of getting him to kiss my hand.  As you can imagine he wasn’t really up for it so I proceeded to plant a wee smacker on his cheek.  Holly and the other English girls feigned lesbianism to detract attention from themselves while I kept up the camp pretense and claimed his prey as my little sister, forbidden fruit of course…but I assured him that my cherry was fair game.  Half way through the charade I forgot to keep up the gay tone to my voice and went to my usual Scottish accent and he caught on to the fact that I was taking the piss.  For some inexplicable reason…one of those things that only happens when you are extremely inebriated we ended up standing on top of a fucking table and arguing!  He was a good foot taller than me and the pair of us were well above the rest of the crowd so we must have looked ridiculous squaring up on top of a table while an armed policeman was prowling the bar.  Somehow, I managed to get away with it and didn’t get my head kicked in from this Beowulf meets Victorian bare knuckle boxer sleazeball and we moved on from the bar.

On the way home, I must have had a look about me that attracted trouble and another foreign guy gave some comment about my wife’s derrière and I obviously couldn’t let that one lie either.  I stopped and spoke to him and stated quite simply, in my mind at least…that I wouldn’t batter him as long as he let me tap him on the head with my packet of sweets (kinda like a packet of fruitella) and that would be it, just a wee tap. 

As one can surely imagine he didn’t like the sound of this but I gave it a bash like any Glaswegian would and my arm was promptly batted away.  I tried twice and finally thrice then commented to the girls he was with that he must have been scared of a wee packet of sweets.  They laughed at him, he got embarrassed and instead of beating me up he said another very rude comment about my wife so I threw the whole packet at his head.  I don’t think I actually hit him and I’m almost certain that I hit one of the girls.  The stars must have been in perfect alignment or the Buddha’s luck was shining on me because we simply just walked away and that was that!  Wan tae me!

When we got back to the room Holly went for a shower and I was still in the mood for a patter so I barged in and took a pee on her.  Not the best or most, genial thing to do to your wife but it was funny to me at least.  As any guy will tell you, when you start pissing it’s real hard to stop so Holly is screaming and pushing me away while I’m getting soaked by the shower while I’m fully clothed and pissing all over the whole bathroom while laughing my head off and pee streaming out of me like some 90’s Mr. Bean sketch

Holly commented that the hot pee mixed with the cold shower water was the worst part, but for me it was the fact that my wallet, my I-Phone and my Thai Phone were in my pockets and were now covered in water and piss. 

Still, it was a good laugh regardless.

Phi Phi Continued and a day of opposites

After a day long freak out about our finances I decided a few things had to change.  If my wife was going to do her Dive Master course then she would have to officially clock up at least 40 dives and subsequently hold up about 40 7-Eleven stores to fund it.  It shouldn’t be too hard as there are about 300 of them per every acre of Thailand! 

Doing the course is an investment in a way as she will get work and I can hopefully be a kept man in some of the worlds most beautiful locations, but for now it means spending a good whack of our budget on her qualification, accommodation, food and of course booze for little ole’ moi.  The main thing that was bothering me was where we were staying.  Although it was beautiful and only 400 Baht a night it was so remote that we had to take a long tail boat there at a cost of 150 Baht per person each time.  I don’t mind walking through the jungle in the daytime but at night, with all the snakes, spiders and tree dwelling ladyboys it’s not as desirable.  The solution seemed to be to move into town, get an apartment for a month and for me to get a job. 

The town of Ton Sei is a lot busier than at Shark Point (the end of Long Beach) so there is more to do and there is much cheaper food and amenities on offer.  If Holly is diving every day then I am either going to kill myself with boredom, alcohol or simply melt under the sheer unwavering heat of the sun.  I went for a wee jaunt and surprisingly I had a glimpse of a couple of jobs in about 15 minutes, but as you may or may not know, it is illegal for a Farang (a non-thai) to work here unless it’s something specialist like teaching English or catching Haggis.  An Irish owner of a decent bar was telling me that he had met a Russian broad and wanted to take a week off from running the bar every day and night and run off with her to the Mainland for some International Relations.  Another bar offered me some work flyering but I know I’m not really cut out for that with a sunburned face like a Chicken McNugget and the fun-loving, outgoing personality of a Victorian Grave Robber.  Apparently there are a lot of Police on the Island at the moment, which is unusual but it does mean that you have to pay a fine or do the time if you get caught.  The bar would pay the fine but it’s rare to get work as the Thais apparently only get 200 Baht for a whole day but Westerners get at least 100 an hour.  It’s still working for pennies but it’ll help and keep me out of trouble and boredom.  If you flyer then you get free beer and buckets all night so I might give it a bash with a stagger and a swagger at some point!

So, with a spring in our step we went on the hunt for long term digs, which is pretty hard to find during high season as the proprietors obviously make more money per night than they do per month.  After checking out nearly every guest house a wee guy caught wind of our search and followed us down the street and led us down a back alley where some women were playing cards.  It all seemed a bit shoddy as we were led down the back lane of some restaurants where they cut off fish and chicken’s heads, industrial fans expel hot air and the flies buzz aimlessly through the air to a set of stairs that were so steep that I hit my shin on the higher step each time I ascended.  The room we were led to was amazingly clean looking and had a big bed, air conditioning, a fan, a fridge, cable TV and a private bathroom.  The price she offered us was very good considering it was high season, about £300 for the whole month and only 100 Baht more each night than what we were paying to stay in an shed on the edge of a cliff.  The deal was done and some much needed smiles returned to our weary faces.

Over the last couple of days Holly has been off diving and I have been saying goodbye to friends, the Aussies Mike and Ally and Hello to a new couple Austin and Emer all the way from Ireland.  We only knew the Aussies for a week but I can honestly say I’m really gonna miss them.  As many of my friends know, I’m not the most tolerant person and there are only a few less irritating people in the world than Australian guys, controversial I know but the bottom line is that I never really thought I’d hit it off with them but in the end they have opened my mind and lifted a bit of the worry I had about leaving home and hating everyone I met.  A big thank you to them and the best of luck, they are actually gonna hook up with a couple from Glasgow who are staying in Melbourne and show them a right good Jewish knees up.  Mazel Tof!!

The Irish Gent, Austin was on a dive course too so his girlfriend Emer and I decided to spend the day together.  I think I drunkenly told him the night before I was taking her Dogging but, more innocently we met up and went on a 4 or 5-hour walk around the Island swapping each other’s life stories and how much we detest smoking.  I actually had a really nice refreshing day meeting someone new who was the same age as me and was willing to here me warble on all day.  She was also the victim of some kind of killer insect and had an amazing bite on her leg that kept swelling into a ball and oozing puss all day, I got to watch her Lance it so that was pretty satisfying and beat Dogging any day of the week.  That night we had to say our goodbyes to them also, so we had a really nice dinner, a bit of Thai Boxing and had a lot of chat about movies over several 2 for 1 buckets.  We had an early night as Holly was diving in the morn so retired to our boudoir for an air-conditioned viewing of a terrible pirated DVD.  By the way, if you’ve seen Coyote Ugly then you don’t need to see Burlesque…although Cher would still get it , even at 64.

Today on the beautiful Island of Phi Phi has been one of opposites for me.  Yesterday was the first overcast day we’d had and I was quite thankful for it, it was also the first day we had the luxury of air-con so I took the opportunity to slip on some jeans, as I really do hate wearing shorts.  Today though, the sun was beating down hard and I was struggling, I didn’t want to sit in the room all day watching TV…although, the only channel with cracking reception is Fashion TV, which any young man or teenager will know is the only channel you can see sexy models with their baps oot on TV at any time of the day.  Also today, I had almost literally no money on me at all as we had to pay for our Room and for Holly’s Dive Course.  You can only take out a certain amount each day from the ATM so it was a bit shit having a whole day with nothing to do, scorching sun and no money to do, eat or drink anything.  I bought a small kettle the other day so I was able to make some 8 baht noodles (about 10p) and boil off some water to put in the fridge and drink.  I had to go to a café to use the Internet and buy a single scoop of ice cream for 30p so I could use their wifi and do a bit of research online to keep myself sane.

Then, as if by magic the whole day kinda changed for me when I realized I still had some Singapore Dollars that I could trade for Baht at the Currency Exchange.  I also asked them if I could withdraw more from inside the branch than the ATM.  Apparently I can, as long as I bring my passport, so I just needed to wait on Holly coming home with the card and we’re back on top.  I had one beer in the fridge that I was saving for Holly coming home so decided to have that and start a bit of writing.  I had the air-con on full but I could still hear a very strange rumbling sound so I looked out the window and realized that full on Monsoon rain (Gene Hackman circa 1998) was falling from the sky.  The back alley that my looks down onto was flooded almost instantly and the posh private pool of a fancy resort that you can see from my window was almost overflowing.  There were very well to do Japanese girls in bikinis hiding their cameras under towels to catch a snap of them doing that 2 finger thing in the intense downfall. 

It’s only rained here once since I’ve been away and although we moan about it in Scotland, I think we secretly love it.  I got out of my jeans as quick as I could and put on my swimming shorts and went for a walk around the deserted streets with my sunglasses on and a cheeser of a grin getting looks from the people huddled in the bars and shops like I was looking for a ‘special’ bus window to lick.  I headed for the beach, which was almost deserted too, apart from some guys quickly taking in the deck chairs that line the beach.  I dove straight into the sea which was deliciously warm and swam just on the surface so my ears could hear the dull patter as the rain pelted off the surface of the water.  As I was saying, today has been one of opposites…I am sitting here happy as Larry after a bit of dancing in the rain in nothing but my shorts when this morning I was hiding from the sun in my jeans in a foul mood because I couldn’t even afford a fruit shake. 

In other news, I hired the worst guitar in Thailand from a Bamboo Tattoo Artist but at least it gives me something to do.  My fingers are aching already, so it doubles up as something to moan about too…everyone’ a winner!