Running Into Someone You Once Loved

It will not be easy. You will not be prepared. You will be looking for the perfect avocado at a fruit stand and then, in what will feel like the second half of the same instant, you will look up and see a face that turns your legs to liquid. It all happens very quickly. Stunned looks turn into smiles of recognition, eyes widen, hands go about- do you shake hands? do you hug? do you kiss on the cheek? where the hell are the rules for these encounters? You scan his face- yes, it's older now, but still perfect, still familiar, still lovable beyond measure. The years have passed, you no longer know every part of him. You do not recognize the clothes he's wearing, or the wrinkles on his forehead. And then- and who knows why you will do this, but you will- you look at his hand, you look for a ring. It's there. Of course it is. You already knew. It is the Era of Facebook; you even know her name.

This encounter has happened throughout all of time, thousands of people have written about it, beautiful novels and films have immortalized it; it is impossible not to romanticize it, not to be thrust into the sentimental space of Past Lovers Reunite. Whether the sky really is pinkish-blue, whether the fruits in the stand really do give off a bitter-sweet aroma just for this moment, whether no one is really bothered by two people just standing there- well, it doesn't matter. It's how it'll play out in your mind, and it'll be poetic because it has to be. Because these things are too surreal to be real. Because past loves live in a far-off island, protected from and unchanged by life.

It's so good to-

How great to-

I thought you lived in-

I'm just here visiting-

I can't believe-

Isn't it funny-

You look-

You look-

This is-

Isn't this-

I thought maybe I'd-

I wish I'd known you were-

But it was a last minute- 

It's been so many-

You haven't changed-

You still look-

...

How have you-

I heard you-

Good-

Yeah-

I read that you-

I saw that you-

Oh-

Uh-

How great for-

I'm so happy for-

Thanks-

Thanks-

...

Well I really should-

And I better-

But how great to-

Such a nice treat to- 

Can I write you when-

Let's not lose-

Yes of course-

Yes we must-

...

I'm off this way-

I still have to- 

Right-

Yes-

It's so great to see-

How great to see-

It is-

It is-

Enjoy this beautiful-

I hope you enjoy-

We'll talk-

Yes of- 

Soon-

Soon-

...

Bye-

Bye-

...

And then it's over. He'll go. You'll stay. You will wonder, briefly, why the universe sent him to you today, during this time in your life, when your heart is in limbo. You'll think maybe it means you can love again. Or maybe it means you had to remember a time when you were someone else, to someone else. Or maybe it just means it was time to see him again, to see that everything passes, that everything changes, that every story has an ending. The world will remain suspended for a while, but then it'll go back to normal. You'll pick out your avocados. You'll go home. Except you'll wear your sunglasses just a little longer today, because your eyes will fill up with tears.

Outplayed

A thrilling match at Wembly stadium today saw Reading FC make a valiant attempt but in the end Swansea were the better team on the day. The final score of Reading 2 - 4 Swansea sees the Welsh team promoted to play Premiership football next season.

Maybe next year.

Crusoe

It was dreamlike. Poda I mean. I can't tell you how lovely it was though I guess for some people it would have been like hell on earth.

When I arrived, I discovered that I was the only guest booked into the "resort". So there was me and at least fifteen members of staff. Some day visitors came to snorkel, lounge on the beach or have a meal in the island's only restaurant but they were gone by late afternoon. So effectively I was the King of Poda for the three days I was there.

They call it a "resort" but it's basically thirty "bungalows" and the restaurant. Here are some things the island doesn't have - cars, motorbikes, dogs, roads, a swimming pool, souvenirs for sale, internet, television and electricity (between midnight and 6pm). Here are some things the island does have - coconut palms, monkeys, a curving white coral sand beach, two cats, a few secretive monitor lizards, electricity between 6pm and midnight, blue birds that squawk and a huge lump of limestone "karst" skirted by impenetrable jungle growth.

I walked a path through tropical greenery that led to the southern shore and laid my towel under the shade of an overhanging tree. There I continued to read "Bangkok - A Cultural History" by Maryvelma O'Neil in two long afternoons that were punctuated with swimming and snorkelling sessions in crystal clear waters that were so warm I was never driven out by chilliness. I collected a piece of old rope from the shore and gathered choice bits of white coral in a plastic bag I found in my knapsack. I was planning to make a wind charm. When pieces of coral clunk together they can make musical sounds.

Sadly, even on Poda the detritus of modern day life is visible on the beach from bits of broken fishing net to Coca Cola cans, food cartons and Old "Singha" beer bottles. I scoured my section of the beach and filled a large sack with flotsam and jetsam that I later returned to the dump near the restaurant. On the first afternoon, in six peaceful hours, I only saw two other people on my bit of beach - a couple of American girls in bikinis who congratulated me on my good citizenship.

Back at Bungalow C one of the resort workers - a young man called Bouw - assisted me with my coral knotting as the windcharm took shape. In return he gave me a chunk of his dried squid. He had caught it himself and dried it slowly over a grill. If you find the soles of plimsolls tasty, you'd probably enjoy dried squid. No doubt the British TV chef, Rick Stein would have been in raptures about the stuff. In spite of it, I finished the wind charm and was rather proud of the end result. I tied it to the lamp bracket outside my door and left it to posterity.

On Poda I took various photographs, including some pictures of Sunday's sunrise. I left in the early afternoon on a motorised longtail boat that whizzed me back to Ao Nang on the mainland and I looked back through the salt spray to gorgeous Poda, a tiny place in a turquoise sea that I will never forget - unless of course Alzheimer's creeps up on me! For your curiosity and visual titillation, here are a few of my best snaps:-

Sunrise

Southern shore

Resort bungalows

Andaman Sunset

Life With Graceful Sunrise!

The Morning Sunrise
Surrounds & Attracts
Entire Universe.

Beautiful Golden
Autumn Flower Is Totally
Attracted To The Morning Brightness.

Soul Feels Peace
Mind & Heart Rests At Peace
When Entire Body Just Meditate On Nature.

Even The Dolphins
Jump High Above
To Have A Glance At Graceful Sunrise. 

Its So Divine
Powerful, Gorgeous
Touching, Graceful To
Watch The Beautiful Sunrise.

Even The Birds Eagerly
Wait To Capture The
Rays And Reflection of The Sun
Which Uplifts The View of Sunrise.

Was Enthusiastic
To View The Sunrise
So Much That, My Heart Layered
Itself To Utmost Happiness.

Wish That, Each Morning
Starts With The Graceful Sunrise
And Blessed Sunset.

PS :- Dear Bloggers, Thanks A Lot For All Your Cherishable Compliments For The Previous Post, "My Greatest Love".

Loneliness, Pain, and Art

I'm lonely. I have friends, I have a wonderful family, I have a therapist, and I have many, many people I can talk to. I have loved deeply, I have been loved, and I know, in my heart of hearts, that I will love again. I even have guys who are interested in me now. I'm not poor, I'm not hungry, I'm educated, I live in New York City, I have a passion, I'm not fat, I'm not ugly, and I have faith in a higher being. I'm grateful for many things, I'm blessed in many ways, I'm able to grow and learn most of the time. But I'm lonely. I'm lonely in a way that phone calls from dear ones doesn't fix, that sex and the city marathons don't mask, that yoga can't transform, that ice-cream doesn't make better.

I smile easily, I laugh easily, I'm social, and I attract people. But, deep down, at my core, I am lonely. When all the lights are out and silence settles, I am with myself, and I feel hollow. It's funny how such emptiness can feel so oppressively heavy. It's like a vast space in my chest that causes a feeling of claustrophobia and weighs me down. It grows inside me, pushing at my edges, but it feels like a big void.

This feeling is not caused, though it may be magnified, by certain circumstances. I've always known it. I was aware of it even as a child; what was labeled shyness, I believe, was actually a feeling of deep disconnect. As I became a teenager, the feeling deepened, and I constantly felt misunderstood, but it was seen as normal adolescent angst. It's never been anything that demanded serious attention, for I have always been perfectly functional, and I am happy. But happy, functioning people can also be lonely.

There's nothing to do about it, but I have learned I can do something with it. I can create my art. Because all human beings know loneliness, all characters know loneliness, and so that is my starting point in creating- either in acting, writing, or directing- characters that people can relate to. Investigating lonely behavior, therefore, makes me an active part of it and less a victim to it. Let it move, let it shift, let it birth art. Often, this provides me with great relief, as well as a sense of purpose.

Perhaps it is because of this that I sometimes say my life started when I was 10 years old. I was in the fifth grade, I was considered a shy child- practically invisible, actually- and we were given an assignment to impersonate a historical figure. I was given Nathanial Greene. Some other kids thought he was boring, but I figured him out really fast. He was a revolutionary war general, he was watching people die every day, his men were depending on his leadership with their lives and their hope, and so he was probably very lonely. From those conclusions, I created my Nathanial, and I stepped in front of the class and let him live through me. I shouted at my men, I lead an imaginary field of soldiers into battle, and I told the story of my life. My classmates and my teacher were stunned into silence; they did not recognize me. The shy girl who barely spoke had come to life, had stepped in front of other people- arguably one of the scariest things to do in the world- and had become, without an ounce of nervousness or hesitation, Nathanial Greene. No one was as surprised as I was. I got a standing ovation, was asked to do it again and again, and went home that day with a laser-sharp certainty that has not left me since: I was going to be an actress.

I understand the feelings I had then better now: I couldn't express my loneliness- it's too difficult to really convey our own loneliness- but I could do it behind the mask of that character. I could do it on stage, where people are willing to suspend their disbelief. I could tell the stories of the people who could not, or would not, tell it themselves and, in doing so, I would be telling my story too. My pain would not remain clogged inside me, it had found a way to move and- perhaps this is the greatest gift a human being can be given- it was a way for me to give something to others.

Characters need our pain in order to live, they need our loneliness, they need our dreams. Without it, they're just words on a page. And every time a character is brought to life with truth and honesty, there is a chance someone in the audience is given some relief. In this way, the cycle is beautiful. My loneliness is the gift I give my characters as well as the audience, and in providing me with an outlet for it, it is the gift they give me in return. They give me peace.

Canucks - Best in the West!

Big congrats to the Vanouver Canucks for their win in the 5th leg of the Western Conference Final yesterday. 

They'll now go on to face either the Boston Bruins or Tampa Bay Lightning for the Stanley Cup.
The last Canadian team to make the final was the Sens in '07
The last Canadian team, to WIN was the Montreal Canadiens in '93

Go Canucks Go!!

 

Hilarious sporting photo(s) of the week!

US president Barack Obama and UK Prime Minister David Cameron take on some school kids at table tennis yesterday during the President's state visit to the UK.

Poda

Oh dear. This is getting tiresome. Another four day weekend so another little trip to plan as my time in Thailand ebbs away. AirAsia from Bangkok to Krabi in the south of the country. I leave tomorrow morning at ten.

There is a tiny island that floats in an azure bay - an arm of the Andaman Sea. Its sands are bleached white and the water that surrounds it is crystal clear. I'm going to stay there for two nights, hoping that the weather and the sea itself are kind to me. Otherwise I'll be sitting in my little hut under the palm trees as rain teems down and waves crash, wondering how I could have been so crazy as to pick a place like that. Getting on and off the island will be difficult enough but when I heard about it I just had to go. An adventure.

It's called Poda Island and here it is. It's the larger one with the rocky outcrop. Full report when/if I return:-

Exposure

Just managed to get back from the school before Bangkok's leaden skies opened. I had stayed late working on the children's poetry collection I am compiling. It is going to be called "Where East Meets West" which is also the school's motto. In one way I want it to be like a parting gift though of course its main aim is to encourage and celebrate good writing. Writing poetry isn't easy at the best of times so I feel heartened that a lot of children - nearly all Thais - have given it a go. Perhaps in some future post I will share a couple of their poems.

At four twenty, after the computer network had automatically and irritatingly shut down as usual and as I was waiting to log straight back on, I found myself writing a poem of my own. Lord knows where the idea came from. I am imagining this poem right in the middle of a hefty collection and it's as if the poem itself is speaking to the onlooker who has arrived at that particular page. (By the way, water is now coming down in gallons as I write and the electricity just went off for a moment. Thunder. Lightning. Buddha's not happy!)

I guess there are many poems in many dusty anthologies that get overlooked simply because they happen to be located somewhere in the middle of the book. Also, I like the idea of playing with poetry so that this poem has its own voice, its own way of looking at things as it tries to jump off the paper to communicate with the detached reader who happens to have flicked to that page. Here it is:-

Page 53

Sandwiched in the middle

Of this collection

I'm shadowed by the weighty poems around me

Idle readers who flick through poetry books

Or peruse the shelves

Hardly ever reach the centre

Where I've been hiding

Safe in the certainty

That no one would ever find me

Or recognise

My unusually stark style

That is

Dear reader

Till you came along

And spoilt it all...

So now

Speaking as a recently unearthed poem

Now that my secret is out

I feel I ought to say

Something of note

Like the middle is half way

So that's what I just wrote.

Summer

Summer crept into New York City this week- hot, muggy, humid city summer. It burst into my apartment when I opened the window in the morning, it found its way under my shirt as I walked around, and it manhandled my hair throughout the day. And how I loved it! How precious skin looks to me now, after so many months of nothing but noses and fingertips being exposed. The sudden freedom of flip-flops instead of heavy boots, the lightness of shorts instead of tights and pants, the comfort of sweat instead of frostbite; all these are things I am able to appreciate now.

And it seems so clear why summer births romances. Of course it does! There are people outside, sitting on steps, having ice-cream, watching each other, aware of all this sudden skin and heat and desire. Bodies are warm, and so are hearts, and everyone knows it. There will be outdoor movies, concerts in the parks, a full farmer's market, streets crowded with tourists, and people everywhere.

I've always felt winter makes me older; less enthusiastic and more guarded. Summer, on the other hand, seems to bring out my youth and encourage my openness. It's easier to talk to people, it's more fun to walk around, it's full of mischief and leisure. I am reminded of the day before I went on summer vacation at the end of 8th grade, when a girl in my class remarked, "See you in a few months, when we will be changed!" I asked her what she meant, and she said, rather effortlessly, "People change over the summer." I never forgot that, as I saw it establish itself as a truth in my life every year. Every summer has always brought new things into my life, and a new part of myself comes forth.

Yes, summer is here, a new season, a new opportunity to grow. It is warmer, the air is buzzing with desire, and I am lighter. Lighter, but also excited and alive. My passion for life oozes out of me (this is, by far, my favorite euphemism for sweat, feel free to steal it), and I feel ready for anything and everything.

Here we go, summer. I can't wait to see myself in a few months... 

My Greatest Love!

My Each Breath Starts

With Your Name And 

Ends With Your Name, 

As, My Breath Keeps Thinking of You!

I Could Hear Your Name

With Each Heartbeat

Could Feel Your Touch 

As The Blood Flows.

My Ears Always Loves

To Hear About You....

My Eyes Just Stares At You

When My Heart Is Deeply Hurt.

The Most Costliest

Liquid Is "Tears"

99% Is The Hurt Tears And,

1% Is The Feeling.

All I Need Is Your 

Warm And, Graceful Arms

To Grab Me Completely 

And Make Me Feel Secured.

Each Individual May Change, But Not The Most Dearest Beloved Almighty! 

PS :- Dear Bloggers, Thanks A Lot For All Your Cherishable Compliments For The Previous Post, "Good Morning Dearies".

Torch

Further to my last posting where I mentioned the Olympic torch would be visiting Reading.

Dad told me recently some interesting things about the 1948 games (he was 10 at the time). Not only was the marathon held round what is now the Reading University campus but his brother D, being slightly older, got to carry the torch (as part of a group from Boy's Brigade) as it made it's way through the town towards London.

How cool is that?

Glasgow 2015

Congratulations to Glasgow for winning the bid to host the 2015 Gymnastics worlds, beating out Orlando and Paris. Glasgow was the first city to place a bid for 2015 as it will build on the legacy of the 2014 Commonwealth Games.

Whilst Beth Tweddle has more than hinted she will retire after London 2012, hopefully it will persuade more of the current crop of seniors to stick around for another olympic cycle. It would be great to see Hannah Whelan make 3 olympics!

On a related note,  the Liverpool girls (Tweddle, Whelan, Pinches, Caig, Tunney & Jameson) have won the 2011 British team title. Scores from GymData.

1   - 167.200 - Liverpool

2   - 154.400 - Cardiff Central

3   - 153.850 - Heathrow

4   - 148.850 - Dynamo

5   - 147.600 - The Academy

6   - 147.500 - Notts "A"

7   - 145.350 - Notts "B"

8   - 142.450 - Park Wrekin College

9   - 141.950 - South Durham

10   - 141.850 - Horsham

11   - 140.300 - Europa

12   - 137.700 - City of Glasgow

13   - 136.500 - City Of Manchester

14   - 119.150 - Vernon Park

Good Morning Dearies!

A Wonderful Morning It Was!

Beautiful Sunrise Embraced

My Thoughts Completely 

And, Took Me Near The Waves!

Those Waves, Waved off 

Troubling Thoughts And,

As I  Stepped On Further,

Felt As If, I Always Stay With The Nature.

Sat On The Grass

Dreaming of A House 

In Between The Nature And 

Completely Lost Myself, With 

The Most Memorable Thoughts :) :)

 

PS :- Dear Bloggers, Thanks A Lot For All Your Cherishable Wishes For The Previous "Greeting" Post  :) :)

 

Travellers

Some blogposts are easy to write. Others are hard. My last post was hard. It was touching on something I had kept buried from others for years. Thank you to Jenny, the author of "Demob Happy Teacher", for letting me know that my post reminded her of a famous poem by Robert Frost written in 1916. I can see how and why she made that connection and I give you Frost's poem now in its entirety. To me it is clearly not about someone at a road junction in "a yellow wood", it is all about the repercussions of our decisions and the paths we choose to take through life. I wonder what you think dear reader...

Robert Frost 1874 -1963

* * *

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveller, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim

Because it was grassy and wanted wear,

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I marked the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,

I took the one less travelled by,

And that has made all the difference.

Two Worlds Decided

A

The FIG commitee decided Friday not to move the 2011 worlds from Tokyo. IMHO this was the best decision for all, as the travel risks are mininmal at worst and the people of Japan could definitely do with the confidence boost of hosting a successful sporting event at home.

From there it is onwards and upwards.....to London 2012!

And from there......The commitee also decided to award the 2013 worlds to Antwerp, Belgium. They are also expected to decide the host city of the hotly contested 2015 worlds this weekend (Associated Press)

In other gymnastics news -

Youth Olympic Champion Viktoria Komova has undergone ankle surgery at the same hospital in Germany as Aliya Mustafina.

2 time russian olympian Anna Pavlova further cemented her comeback by winning the senior all-around at the Alexander Dityatin international in St Petersburg. Also a promising young face made an appearance, Nailia Mustafina (younger sister of currently injured world champ Aliya) came second in the junior all-around. Results and report @ International Gymnast.

Also the British Team Championships take place this weekend in Guildford. Full Twist has the list of entries, including Beth Tweddle.

Go Canucks Go!

No, this is not unbiased sports reporting, The Vanouver Canucks are currently leading the Western Conference final of the Stanley Cup Playoffs 2-1  against San Jose and could do with all the best canadian (and international support). Go Canucks Go!

Ten Pound Challenge

I've been set of the task today of trying to get my weekly shopping for under £10 (about US $16,  AU $15).















You can't get much but here's how I got on:

• 2.27 l (4 pints) fresh semi-skimmed milk, £1.25
• 500 g butter, £2.00
• 925 g apples, £1.61
• 1.02 g bananas, £0.80
• 140 g sliced corned beef, £1.75
• large wholemeal loaf (sliced), £0.47
• 750 g cornflakes, £1.28

The total comes to £9.16, well done me. Dad and SM are due for a visit next week, I may therefore find my larder, freezer and fridge gets depleted but I intend to give this a go again next week.

And elsewhere...

I've had quite a lot of interest in my CV this week, you never know it might lead to a job!

Reading has been announced as one of the venues to be visited by the Olympic torch next year on it's way to the games in "that London." Might have to take LL along for a look-see.

Vijender Singh and his wife Archana Marrriage Pics

Indian boxer and Olympic Champion Vijender Singh got married. To Archana. The wedding took place in Delhi and reception is set to take place in Vijender Singh's hometown Bhiwani and the date of the reception is on Wednesday.



Rahul Gandhi , former Union minister Captain Satish and then the Indian Boxing Federation chief Abhay Singh Chautala, G.S.Chandu the national boxing coach were some of the prominent guest in the wedding ceremony. Lets wish the couple a Happy married life.

Pat

Life. It can be so strange. Accidental moments may colour your entire life. I don't know why but I have thought about Pat in the last few days.

Who was Pat? She was a Scottish woman I had a steady relationship with in my last months at university. Thirty five years ago. She cooked meals for me and loved me. We were good together. She quietened some of my wildness. Showed me how to relax with people and be less combative. We danced. We visited Glasgow and Edinburgh and she sat by my side when I drove the students' union minibus all the way down to London for a political demonstration. She so much wanted to please me. She would ask my opinions about her clothes and make-up - stuff I never really cared two hoots about. I met her parents and her sister. Stayed in her family home. Got drunk with her. We talked and talked and woke together in many silver-grey dawns. That was Pat.

At Christmastime of 1977, I moved back to England to embark on my momentous teaching "career" (ha!). I was in a vast, tough comprehensive school in a godforsaken South Yorkshire mining village. Those first weeks were the hardest apprenticeship ever. I could sink to the bottom of the sea or I could swim. I chose to swim. And one of the things that kept me afloat was my growing love and affection for Pat. I couldn't wait to see her at February half-term.

Back in Scotland I returned to her. Less than two months had passed. I wanted her love and friendship to soothe my battered soul. I reached for her but she shut me out. The door was closed literally and metaphorically. I tried to get in but she was having none of it. There was no explanation just exclusion. She was lost to me as if those golden months before had never really happened. I never saw her again. It was a puzzle.

At Christmastime 1979, I met my Shirley. Before the winter of 1981 we were married. We had a mortgage and bills to pay. We were in love. We pedalled the treadmill of work before our babies came. A son and a daughter. Perfect. And then there were the other two we never met - the ectopic might-have-been children who got away like fish we failed to land. I think of them too. So I almost forgot Pat.

Some time in 2001 Pat got in touch with me again through the machinations of the Internet and I asked her - why. Why did you shut me out all those years back? And she told me a mutual "friend" called Andy, who by the way had always had a "thing" for Pat, reported that I had said to him I would never spend my life with her because she was too flat-chested! I emailed back that I had absolutely no memory of saying such a horribly shallow thing but if I did say it then I apologised wholeheartedly - even if it was over twenty years too late.

Pat became a lecturer in a further education college in Scotland. She never married or bore any children and now she lives in her own little apartment in the suburbs of Glasgow having retired from her college just last summer.

After ten years I realise that I never did say such a thing about her. I liked Pat fine the way she was. She was pretty and I respected her. I realise that it was just Andy mischief-making. Spoiling something good that he didn't have. Perhaps he was drunk. Perhaps he was making a play for Pat in my absence. Anyway. It meant that the course of my life and Pat's life changed for good. I believe we'd have been together. We'd have made a home and a family. But it wasn't to be. I went my way and she went hers. I think that it's called the randomness of being.

Wembly

The Royals dominated their away leg in Wales with a 3 - 0 win against Cardiff. Next up they will play (former Reading manager) Brendan Rodgers' Swansea at the end of the month, for the right next year to play in the Premiership.

Well done.

Phangan

Haad Salad Sunset

Phangan is famous for its "full moon parties" - Bacchanalian beach raves in the far south eastern corner of the island. These events attract backpackers and latter day hippies by the score. So naturally, I booked accommodation at the opposite end of the island in Haad Salat - Salad Bay. And how lovely it was there. I had a spacious wooden bungalow to myself with a view from my wide wooden verandah that took in both the little hotel complex's pristine oval-shaped pool and a beautiful palm-fringed beach with the bay beyond. There little fishing boats bobbed colourfully.

On Sunday I went on a snorkelling trip which allowed me two hours on beautiful Bottle Beach. Yesterday I hired a bicycle and cycled till heat exhaustion, dehydration and excessive sweating threatened to do me in for good. It's true what they say about mad dogs and Englishmen. I recovered in the main town - Thong Sala, downing three bottles of soda water in a row before cycling up the west coast to an enclosed fresh water lagoon. On the way I passed a bizarre English pub - "The Masons' Arms". It looked as if it had been transported directly from the Home Counties.

This morning I had an hour long foot massage from a young lady called Non whose service involved both pain and relaxation. It made me think that to really benefit from Thai massage one would need to make it a regular feature of one's life. A one-off massage is okay but its benefits are probably not going to be long-lasting.

At Nakhon Si Thammarat Airport, a chubby Thai gentleman with cloudy eyes and a can of Heineken joined me at my lunch table and attempted most unsuccessfully to strike up meaningful conversation as we ate our chosen dishes. But one should never judge a book by its cover for when I attempted to pay my bill, the man insisted that he would settle it. I thanked him and then headed for the departure gate. Acts of human kindness in a world that often appears self-seeking and heartless are like jewels that glisten and ask to be treasured. In Buddhism such acts are often thought to "make merit", counteracting the wrong we all do.

West coast of Phangan

Bottle Beach

Hello Everybody :) :)

Had A Memorable Trip

Enjoyed My Stay There 

Had Lots of Fun And We All

Visited Sandiego's Balboa Zoo Park, 

Sea World, Coronado Island. 

Loved Disney Land Too, Las Angeles. 

After A Week, Had Been To Grand Canyon & Sedona! Back To India On 13Th May! Very Soon Will Get Back To Blog! Missed All Your Writings :( Wish, I'll Be Back Soon With A Full Fledge Long Stories, Poems, Rhymes & Of course Photos Too  :)  :)

Curly Fries And Other Thoughts

• Have you noticed the current trend of saying "Up Coming"? If we mean "Future" why not use it? It takes fewer letters after all.
• I got asked yesterday by the lady living across from LL to help apply some eye drops to her poorly cat. Those beasties have sharp claws- I very nearly lost my left raspberry*. No really.
• I now have three different varieties of potato growing in my garden: Rocket, Vales Emerald and Maris Piper. These are due to crop June, Aug/Sept and Aug/Oct respectively.
• Ever heard someone say "I've not heard from you in ages"? If they were that concerned, why weren't they the first to pick up the phone or write an email? It works both ways don't you think?
• Heard today that my great aunt (on Mum's side) died on Friday. She was the last living sibling of my Grandad.
• As requested I returned to the Surgery for another Asthma check. This time I saw someone different and apparently "lung age" is a load of rubbish. Go figure.
• The Royals need a win away at Cardiff on Tuesday if they are to proceed to the play-off final at Wembly. The no score draw at home last Friday in the first leg wasn't a good start.
• Whoever dreamt up curly fries should be given an award. Oh so tasty and brings to mind some very fond memories.

King of the road (or path)? 















* Rhyming slang for... you can work it out, think about ice cream LOL.

Russian Stars

 

Russia's newly crowned European Champion, Anna Dementyeva led the medals at the Moscow Stars World Cup, winning gold on beam and floor and silver on bars. Here's a quick summary of the womens medallists.

Report on Double Front, Full results (in russian) here.

Women’s Vault Final

1. Oksana Chusovitina - GER (14.712)
2. Elena Kurbatova - RUS  (13.950)
3. Jade Barbosa - BRA (13.337)

Women’s Uneven Bars Final

1. Jessica Lopez - VEN (14.275)
2. Anna Dementyeva - RUS (14.000)
3. Yana Sikulova - CZE (13.950)

Women’s Balance Beam Final 

1. Anna Dementyeva - RUS (15.100)
2. Ksenia Afanasyeva - RUS (14.200)
3. Yana Demyanchuk - UKR (14.100)

Women’s Floor Final 

1. Anna Dementyeva - RUS (14.525)
2. Ksenia Afanasyeva - RUS (14.200)
3. Jessica Lopez  - VEN (13.850)

Bizzaro

Before I head off to the island of Koh Phangan - way down south - for three nights, let me tell you about a couple of this week’s most bizarre moments.

Monday morning. After waiting fifty minutes for a reserved taxi while dozens of free taxis flashed by the school gates, I arrived at a vast new government building on the outskirts of Bangkok along with an agitated lady from the school office. It was to be the next chapter in my visa saga – you know - the one that resulted in me being exiled to Malaysia for a weekend.

So there’s hundreds of people clutching papers and tickets in the Immigration section of this huge building, erected far from any public transport network. A robotic voice with an American accent announces appointment numbers while a different American-sounding voice announces other appointments on the opposite side of the room. The voices intermingle unintelligibly as red lights flash digital numbers above dozens of interview booths.

Finally I find myself in a cubicle with the twitchy school secretary and a uniformed female immigration official. I have to sign photocopies of my fifteen page work contract, two copies of my degree certificate and a handful of copies of my passport. The lady from the school chuckles as a conversation in Thai occurs with the severe young official. Then I get a translation.

“She say you look like Colonel Sanders!”

Then the young lady adds, “When I see you. Make me wanna eat!”

My instinct is to return the compliment but I fear my meaning might be misconstrued so instead I just laugh. When I am dismissed from the cubicle to wait a further hour for my re-stamped passport, I promise to get her some fried chicken.

Friday morning. I am working at the computer in my classroom. I shift the keyboard and notice something beneath it. It’s a polythene bag with a piece of card in it. There’s some writing on the back. I flip it over. It’s a photograph of a Thai woman in a rather untidy room. I recognise her immediately.

It’s the new cleaner who has been visiting my room after school for the last week or so. As an inverted snob, I have always gone out of my way to be friendly towards those who have menial roles to perform in the workplace. So it has been with the new cleaner. Every time she has entered my room I have greeted her – Sawasdee krap and smiled. She doesn’t seem to speak any English.

I flip the photo over. I realise that what is written is a mobile phone number with her name scrawled next to it. It’s a flaming invitation to get in touch – possibly literally!

Perhaps she needs me to tidy up her room. Maybe she wants to come back to Sheffield to be our cleaner - possibly performing other domestic duties? I must ask Shirley for her considered opinion. She can also weigh up whether or not I look anything like that finger lickin’ Kentucky fellow - Colonel Bloody Sanders!