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One of the problems of living in a country where things of a vegetable nature grow so quickly, is that one of those things is grass. Personally, that wouldn't bother me too much - I've never really been an admirer of beautiful, stripy (and oh so artificial) lawns unless they happen to be on a cricket pitch.
Unfortunately I live in (on?) what is usually referred to here as a development or a project, but which those of reared in the dear old UK would probably refer to as an estate. Occupied (occasionally) mostly by Europeans and surrounded by walls and a security gate to keep out the great unwashed. Many of these have grass in the garden and gardeners to cut the grass regularly.
Hence today's glimpse - I've just been wrenched abruptly, rudely and most unwillingly from a short but blissful after-lunch nap with the dogs on the veranda by the brutal squealing roar of the most devilish device known to mankind -
the industrial petrol-powered strimmer.
Of course, I'm not really expecting much sympathy!
As I type, he's moved on to the lawn mower, which is a much gentler, more bearable and even slightly comforting sound. In fact, it's really quite lulling in its way (says he, yawning and stretching). I suppose I could just return to the veranda and read for ten minutes...
Oh Wicked JR !
My Mother, who was an absolute "Mrs Bucket" in her Social Preferences --- insisted that before she came to live with us (18 years !) she had NOT lived in an Estate --- but a "Residential Area "
A 20s "Flapper"---- she lived to 95, and although heavily disabled, Brain and Tongue were in perfect working ordser !
Being unable to see --- she did Crosswords in here head !
I fear I am unable to live up to the Family's expectations in the next 15 years !
Gordon Brown is fighting for his political life after Defence Secretary John Hutton became the latest member of his Cabinet to quit. Mr Hutton was one of Tony Blair's closest allies and was known to have private reservations about Mr Brown becoming leader.
His decision to stand down follows hard on the heels of the shock resignation of Work and Pensions Secretary James Purnell.
[Blablabla]
...Defence Secretary John Hutton - another leading Cabinet Blairite - said: "I am sorry that my good friend James Purnell has decided to resign.
"I think he has made the wrong decision because I firmly believe that Gordon Brown is the right man to lead our party and our country."I urge everyone in the party to remain united behind his leadership."
I ask for help because, although I've never heard of either of these people, this quote was from the same article (Yahoo/ITN news - http://uk.news.yahoo.com/4/20090605/tuk ... a1618.html) If it's not a mistake, that must be the quickest change of mind in history.
10 minutes is a long time in politics and his memory is so un-vast that his previous utterances had been overcome by subsequent inanities. I can't say I had ever heard of him; he was too incompetent to even register over 0.6 on the expenses Richter Scale let alone appear over my horizon.
Having more money doesn't make you happier. I have 50 million dollars
but I'm just as happy as when I had 48 million.
(Arnold Schwarzenegger!)
There's a new home craft shop just opened down the road which I've been meaning to have a look at. There's a car wash next to it (Thai-style - just a couple of blokes cleaning your car with a high pressure jet and a vacuum cleaner), so we decided to combine the two this morning. Turns out there's a massage place there as well, so Mrs Ajarn decided to indulge (less than 2 quid for half an hour). There's also a breezy little open air cafe for me to sit and read.
3.50 pounds for a spotless pick-up and a very pleasant hour or so.
I had a bit of a giggle about this Phil. While you were indulging we found a method of disturbing the neighbours far more effective than your industrial strimmers and lawnmowers - just after 8 o'clock this morning the quiet of our suburban street was shattered by a rather large cement mixing lorry delivering to our house. First we had to wake up a neighbour to move her car out of the way. Then we had three young(ish), hunky(ish) men trundling back and forth through our terraced house with wheelbarrows of cement to the far end of the back garden where we are laying a new base for a workshop. Then lots more noise as we hosed away the resulting mess from front and back paths - I have yet to tackle the inside of the house. A good time was had by all, and they all refused the proffered beer. By 9.05 am it was all over and my husband was threatening to go back to bed. Fortunately the carpet is on the to do list to be replaced with laminate flooring, because I suspect that it is beyond redemption - hopefully this will have speeded up the replacement plans?
When I first came to Thailand nearly 6 years ago I lived in a little bungalow right by the beach in the middle of nowhere on Koh Samui (island). There were two bungalows side by side, but the other one was unoccupied. A couple of months later another Brit moved in. Oh dear. Typical old "cor blimey" Jack the Lad, with anchor tattoos and a yellow hairpiece. Oh dear again. Turned out he'd made a mint running a 'massage parlour' in Chatham of all places, having spent many previous years turning the clocks back on dodgy cars. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. It also turned out he was one of the nicest, most generous individuals I've ever met!
Remember the Peele Festival 'Heads, Shoulders, Knees & Toes' clip on YouTube? I showed it to my students today (yes, internet links onto a big screen, but not a piece of chalk to be seen...), and they loved it! We looked at a couple of other CH links to see the uniform, the buildings and the Band properly, and I asked them what they thought - as one, they yelled - HOGWARTS!!
They then surprised me. Quite a lot. Remember - these are the students I struggle to get to drop their taboos and inhibitions in class, but look what they get up to when left to their own devices...
Sorry to inflict this nasty little tale on you, but I need to get it all off my chest, and it might prove a useful warning for the unsuspecting tourist.
Over the last few months we’ve (Mrs Ajarn and I) got into the habit of popping down to Hat Sai Noi on the motorcy first thing in the morning 2-3 days a week. Bit of a nuisance, but the doctor said I needed to get some exercise, and since I’ve developed an allergy to chlorine, swimming in the sea seemed a good way as any to exercise. Without overdoing it, of course. I mean, I don’t want to tire myself out.
It’s only five minutes from the house, but what an irritating ride; the road dappled with tree shadows so you can’t see where you’re going; birds, bees, butterflies and dragonflies flittering and fluttering all over the place – you can imagine, can’t you? Anyway, we get to the beach at about 7.30-7.45 and struggle through the sand to a deckchair. You can barely see the sea for the glittering reflection of the sun on the water, but it looks like a millpond. I mean, where are all the crashing waves and exciting surf, for crying out loud. The lass from the restaurant comes over with water and ice, then we have to decide whether to have breakfast there or not - <sigh> I hate decisions first thing. Anyway, no decision today, as we’d bought some of those freshly fried little doughnutty things that go down nicely with a good cup of coffee. They are, of course, an extremely unhealthy way to start the day, but mai bpen rai - the extra calories were compensated for by the extreme effort involved in getting the lid off the coffee flask.
The next decision is whether to stride athletically down to the water and have a swim before sitting down, or to flop into a deckchair knowing that at some point Mrs Ajarn and a couple of the restaurant staff are going to have to lever me out of the damn thing.
You’d think it would be quiet at that time of the morning, but you’d be surprised. Oh, there’s nobody around sure enough (except for three men in a boat [sounds familiar] pottering about with fishing nets or some such – surely they should be off somewhere working for a living?), but there’s all kinds of racket; a cock crowing sporadically, and the noise of the sea itself – Christ, why does water have to make such a racket? And I’m sure I could hear a dog barking somewhere off in the distance.
Into the water then. Flat, calm, ideal for swimming – better get some exercise, I suppose <sigh>. Of course, it’s all pretty boring out there. I’m floating on my back (recovering from the exercise…) thinking about the meaning of life, the universe and everything, but there’s nothing to see except a perfectly blue sky unbroken by the slightest wisp of cloud. How boring is that? This morning, though, there was a sliver of moon visible over the shoreline; WTF is that all about? There’s a place for everything, and everything has its place, and seeing the moon at 8 in the morning does not compute. If I get really bored, I tread water for a while and look at the back of Buddha’s head at the top of the hill, but my attention span isn’t what it used to be. The only thing that breaks the monotony is the little cluster of palm trees that some bright spark wedged into the sand at the mermaid end of the beach – below the waterline, of course. Naturally, they’re dead.
Even the solitary jellyfish that stung me yesterday seems to have disappeared. Probably gone looking for its mates off Hua Hin beach.
There were a lot of irritating tiny fish out there this morning (fish? in the SEA? I ask you, whatever next?) trying to nibble my nipples. I pretended to take an interest in their comings and goings for a while, but couldn’t feign it for long.
So I clamber out of the water and stagger up to the chair. Mrs Ajarn is sitting there doing her ‘cottage’ (took me a year to work out this meant cross-stitch). Bless her, I know how much she loves these little jaunts to the seaside. She wraps up quite well, but I suppose the breeze can be a bit chilly for her – funny, aren’t they, these Thai folk? Every now and then I hear her mutter away cheerfully something about ‘see-dum’, which is probably something spicy she’s considering having for breakfast.
Of course, all I can think about is getting home and logging on to this forum to see what the latest insightful comments are. Mrs Ajarn asks if I want to go home yet, but I’m a sensitive and thoughtful farang husband, and I know she really wants to stay a while longer, so I grin and bear it and read my book for half an hour before going for another dip. bl**dy fish are still there.
Eventually, we head for home, and I grin to myself in the knowledge that no more than half an hour after hitting the ‘on’ switch, my steam-driven PC combined with the super-fast TT&T line will have me connected to the internet.
My advice to all residents and tourists is to stay well away from Hat Sai Noi. At least until after 10 a.m. – we’ve usually gone home by then…
Ajarn Philip wrote:Sorry to inflict this nasty little tale on you, but I need to get it all off my chest, and it might prove a useful warning for the unsuspecting tourist.
......................................the noise of the sea itself – Christ, why does water have to make such a racket?
Into the water then. Flat, calm, ideal for swimming – .................there’s nothing to see except a perfectly blue sky unbroken by the slightest wisp of cloud. How boring is that?
My advice to all residents and tourists is to stay well away from Hat Sai Noi.
Strange water you have there - sure the water and ice didn't have just a little extra in it?
JR, can you use your modship powers and either delete Philip's post, or meddle with it to make it sound like complete hell? Go on, you know you want to...
