S p r a t t i c u s

Pillowy balls of dough love

2012-01-22T15:35:00.001Z

Dinner rolls, harder than you might think to make soft.

Like in daily life just add lard to get that doughy, soft feel. Where your standard white bread recipe might ask for water, simply replace with milk. Melt in a little butter...bung in a bit of yoghurt if you like...et voila - rolls more akin to Indian Pav than crusty (yet surprisingly light) cannon balls. Perfect with soup or for soaking up gravy...or heck, just covering in butter & jam and duetting with a cuppa tea. Hmmm. mmmh.

The Clandestine Playhouse

2012-01-09T17:08:00.000Z

It's late 1940s. The war is not long over. Capt Jack Holden, Dr Emilia Alcock-Smythe and the mysterious Tatiana Augustidis find themselves in a grey, cold capital in Mittel Europa. Allied forces administer the divided city barely maintaining law and order amid an undertow of sleazy racketeering, thuggery and mysterious encounters. No-one can be trusted and no-one is whom they first appear.

The three head out into the dank foreboding night to see if they can get to the bottom of a mystery invitation. Little do they know what they are letting themselves in for as they enter a strange underworld through the doorway to Hotel Sacher.

The only legal currency is allied issue ration bonds and they are in short supply. They resort to the treacherous black market.

Tatiana uses her charm to gain intel from a British army officer...Major Calloway, suspicious if for no other reason than he salutes with his left hand. Is he a boy scout in disguise?

A chance encounter with Cecil B. Grant, the British Cultural Attache - a rum old cove. Seems affable enough and eager to help...but is it just a front? And who is the mysterious balloon seller and the rake lurking in the shadows?

Having got to the bottom of 'it'...it's time for our heroes to head home to contemplate the strange evening and smoke a bowl of Sullivan's Gentleman's Mix.

But the city doesn't sleep - there are clandestine trysts in smokey alley ways, long shadows from unseen spies flicker on the walls...and there's the ever present mysterious balloon seller. Who's buying his 'balloons' at this time of night anyway?

Chutney Tombola

2012-01-05T10:00:00.002Z

Forget the EuroMillions Lottery and the €650 squidizillion jackpot, it's the draw everyone (and by that I mean literally E-V-E-R-Y-O-N-E) has been waiting for - The Spratticus Chutney Tombola - open to all those who so kindly and generously sponsored me during Movember to sprout a shrub a-top my lip.

See the visuals below.

1. The hallowed roll call of sponsors. I was going to etch each name into a platinum plaque but I seem to have misplaced my stash of platinum plaques...so scrap paper will have to do.

2. Into the Chicken Whisperer bonnet they go...

3. Give 'em a mungle...

4. Hello! Who's this then?

5. Ah...of course, the host with the most...

6. SAUL BARRINGTON, please step forward.

So what's it to be Mr B?

Green Tomato Chutney or Quince & Medlar Membrillo (errr...paste)?

Thanks again one-and-all. You're all winners in my book, just Saul is a slightly more tangible winner. There's always next year!

Get Fat Get Fit

2012-01-04T12:16:00.001Z

These flyers arrived through our door today in one batch.

[Clearly we live in a very classy area!!]

What next, flyers for land mines and prosthetic limbs?

Filthy Brighton

2012-01-03T14:46:00.000Z

Woke up to howling gales, horizontal rain, wheelie bins bowling down the road, recycling buckets eddying like leaves in a breeze (no leaves present, probably all over Belgium) and the deep groaning of a very angry sea. A metaphor for what 2012 has in store? I hope not.

Happy New Year one-and-all!

Movember +30days - au revoir MOnsieur

2011-11-30T12:31:00.000Z

And so another Movember draws to a close...

Here's me rocking my Gallic look that won Mr/MOnsieur Movember at The Rock Inn "Judge My Shrub" competition (note medal ribbon and sash hidden below my onions). It's been worthwhile!

Thank you to ALL my generous sponsors. Couldn't have done it without you. £635 raised. Give yourselves a pat on the back (or a stroke of the 'tache).

[You know what? I think I might keep it!]

Movember +24days - a little up-didilly-up-up

2011-11-24T14:48:00.003Z

In honour of those wonderfully moustachioed Naples statues.

[And no, I haven't dyed it blue, just a little Photoshop.]

Pizza Face

2011-11-23T10:43:00.000Z

Just back from a weekend in Napoli giving my Mo some international exposure. Those good burghers of the city from yester-year certainly knew how to rock some 'monificent' Mos. After all, how esle could they catch those pizza crumbs?

Movember +16days - no pointy uppy

2011-11-16T15:12:00.000Z

M+16 days - status report:
(No, no, no, nothing to do with firearms or the former name of the M25 motorway!)

Well, the Mo is there alright although my attempt to go skywards at the ends is being thwarted by, well...lack of hair at my fuzzy fringes! Pah. You can't have everything - after all I do have the 'Chicken Whisperer Bobble Hat'!

Below are a couple of moustachioed snaps of my (continued) generous sponsors. More snaps and Lip Shrub Shenaningans at http://mobro.co/spratticus

Many thanks ONE and ALL!

MOssive thanks for your Movember support

2011-11-14T10:57:00.001Z

My my. What a lot of very generous friends and rellies I have. I'm over the £500 mark for Movember and the Prostate Cancer Charity. Thanks one and all!!

Remember, just a £1 donation secures your entry into the 'Jam Tombola' where the lucky winner gets one of my hand crafted jams made with personally foraged/stolen fruits: Plum & Walnut with a hint of Grappa or Quince & Medlar Jelly (I was going to add in Creme de Menthe but thought better of it). What's not to love about that?

Take a peek at mobro.co/spratticus

A Mo update and pic to follow shortly...but here are a couple of snaps from my biggest sponsors so far - The A Team!

Movember +7days

2011-11-07T17:43:00.001Z

OK, so there's definitely something MOing on now!!

A rage of colour...

2011-11-07T11:51:00.001Z

Hampstead Heath, London - Sat 5 Nov

Bit disappointed...you can't even see a semblance of my tash!

Fromage my friend, fromage!

2011-11-04T16:15:00.001Z

Away from top lipped Tom Foolery for a moment. I've been on a cheese mission.

The most nuclear cheese on earth it would seem is - Epoisses de Bourgogne. It's in a wooden box, wrapped in cling film, in tupperware, inside a knotted plastic bag...and I can still smell it.

This cheese is banned from public transport in France and that says a lot...not renowned for their delicate nasal sensibilities, the French.

There's a distinct smell of death about it. I was cutting some earlier and I couldn't avoid handling it. Now my hand smells like it has gangrene.

And this was courtesy of La Cave a Fromage, Hove. If you were after a cheesy night out in Brighton (& Hove), this is where you should aim for.

Wonderful.

Movember + 3days

2011-11-03T12:49:00.007Z

Other than Bill's attempted 'blackmail' to get me to grow a 'Hilter' (if blackmail can be described as refusing to sponsor me otherwise), there have been no Mo-Style suggestions. So, I have opted for a 'Rockstar'.

There's an option of an upgrade to 'Undercover Brother' if my follicles are fizzing or I could embarrassingly bolt for 'The Wisp' if not. Options options options.

Compare:

[Is it just me or is my chin growing?]

Read Steady Mo!

2011-11-01T13:22:00.001Z

Farewell familiar facial fuzz. It's the 1st Movember...so I am shorn, shaven smooth and ready to cultivate a bit of top lip topiary for charity.

A massive thanks to all those that have sponsored me thus far...very very kind.

I'm still open for mo style suggestions, although the Hitler/Mugabe is off the polling card (this time round).

More info:
mobro/spratticus
uk.movember.com

Dover Castle - Best Sunday Roast in Brighton?

2011-10-31T13:01:00.000Z

If not, then pretty close. Two fantastic and generous rounds of roast belly pork (with extra crackling), roast spuds, roast beetroot (red and yellow), romanesco broccoli , green beans, roast carrot, roast seasonal squash, cavolo nero cabbage, great gravy, individual yorkshire pud...all delicious and perfectly cooked. The leg of lamb was similarly toothsome. All £9.95.

Dover Castle 43 Southover Street Brighton BN2 9UE (01273 688276)

(NB I have no commercial interest in or connection to the Dover Castle, just think food that's above the norm, particularly local pub food, should be applauded.)

Bear Shaving

2011-10-27T19:07:00.005+01:00

Here's something to kick off Movember:

Come and see two of Kemptown's shaggiest get shaved at
The Rock Inn, 7 Rock Street, Brighton 1 Nov 8pm

I really can't believe 'Chris The Beard' is going for it. Ask nicely and whoever's waving the cut throat might 'do you' too...in a good way...and for charity!

A Shrubbery of Mos

2011-10-27T12:51:00.000+01:00

And whilst we're stroking all things Mo...looky looky looky. What a handsome bunch. A shrubbery of Mos at Andrew North's wedding Tbilisi, Oct 2010. As real as they look (huh?), there's only one true 'face grown & hand brushed' Mo aMOngst them. Can you spot it?

Soup Strainer for Movember

2011-10-25T13:52:00.004+01:00

Movember is almost upon us...and I'm up for it again. Below are a few visuals from last year's Movember MOuse Warming Party. A success fo' su'.

If you fancy sponsoring me don't hold back:
http://mobro.co/spratticus

Dates for your Diary if you're a Brightonian:

Movember Gala Parte, Brighton Wed 23 Nov, 8-12pm - Sticky Mike's Frog Bar, 9-12 Middle Street BN1 1AL [tickets]

Barefaced Cheek Sat 26 Nov, 'til 1am - The Rock Inn, 7 Rock Street, Kemptown BN2 1NF: end of Movember party, come along and parade your crumb catcher!

Mo Quiz Night Mon 28 Nov, 7-12pm - The Lectern, 5 Pelham Ter, Lewes Rd BN2 4AF: a quiz with a lip shrubbery theme

So what, it's not the wildest Saturday night

2011-10-22T22:37:00.005+01:00

...but I'm having fun.

Baking rolls and YouTubing (if that's a verb...yet) Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain covering Kate Bush's Wuthering Heights.

YouTube your socks off!!

Simple pleasures.

Apple-tastic

2011-10-16T13:59:00.001+01:00

Applefest, Middle Farm, Glynde, East Sussex

Fruity harvest fun: apples, apples and more apples. Cider, cheeses, chutneys, quinces, pears, bread, beer, bands, fun fair, sheep racing, llama racing, pulse racing! And Indian summer sun. Wonderful.

OK OK I'm back

2011-10-11T15:23:00.001+01:00

Seems I've been rather slack and let events overtake me. Mineapolis, Toronto, JFK, Heathrow, Hereford all ticked off. Reads like a Dunhill fag packet dunnit. Now back in Brighton.

Sorry for the delay.for

Here are some pics to give you a flavour.

And so much changes when you're away...like a giant ferris wheel in Brighton that seems to have sprung up like a mushroom overnight.

Farewell San Dieaaaago

2011-10-04T13:10:00.001+01:00

San Diego Airport, 0500...ouch

What can I say. Well, a big thank you to Brian & Robyn for putting me up and putting up with me. Great to see you.

And thanks to Greg for giving up his bed for me. True dedication to the (My) cause.

So my in transit blog posts continue.

It's rather early and I'm kicking about at San Diego airport waiting for a flight to Minesotapolis St Sauls...I think.

Here are a few enduring images...

Cherio to South California...unless I don't make the flight.

Oh, I made it to San Diego by the way

2011-09-30T19:49:00.001+01:00

Sorry for not updating sooner if you've been on tenter hooks. Got on my connection Detroit to San Diego no probs. Slept most of the way courtesy of Tequilera's finest, big, strong and toothsome margarita.

Met Robyn at airport and back to Chez Robins.

More as it happens.

Raining dots

2011-09-29T22:44:00.001+01:00

Hammering down here at Detroit McNamara Airport. Can't really tell from pic (and the dots are some abberation on the glass).

When en route to nearly Mexico...?

2011-09-29T22:09:00.001+01:00

Just another 3hrs til my connection.

I had no idea...

2011-09-29T21:26:00.003+01:00

A Brighton 'stuff shop' in Detroit Airport. Wow.

Landed in Motor City Detroit

2011-09-29T21:26:00.001+01:00

That's right. The third of the World's great automotive powerhouses after Coventry and Dagenham.

Nice flight. I made an error in saying I was in Business class. I was in 'Business Elite'. Oooh la la. As good as it gets. All flat beds, Michelin * chef menu & noise cancelling earphones (that make it hard to hear any announcements). Still, no pilot radio comms channel that I like so much. I think that's a United thing.

So here I am. Made it to the United States of Uncle Sam's Side Of The Pond.

OK. So the pic looks like the inside on airport pretty much anywhere in the world...but it does have a tram INSIDE the terminal building.

Next? Onwards and upwards I hope towards San Diego.

Tim Minchin never looked more uncomfortable

2011-09-29T21:24:00.001+01:00

Detroit Macnamara Airport

So, I'm off the plane sharpish being in seat 5B...that's Business Elite for ya...yeah. As I'm wrapping up the Immigration grilling:

Immigration officer: What's the purpose of your visit?

Me: To see friends.

IO: How do you know them?

Me: Brian is a friend of my brother from the USAF...not that my brother was in the USAF, he was in the RAF. But I'm a good friend of Brian too.

IO: Huh? Been to the States before?

Me: Yes.

IO: When?

Me: When Brian married Robyn and I visited my brother not too long ago.

IO: I was looking for a year...but please, just move on now.

Me: Sorry thanks sorry.

Anyway. There behind me is Tim Minchin. I loitered slightly, and then collared him with...

"It's Tim Minchin, right? I saw you in Wales. Greenman Festival. My wife's good friend Jen is slightly obsessed with you."

I was clearly still in immigration mode.

He muttered something about having a terrible cold and side shuffled towards the loos.

Hint taken. Not a photo opp...so no photo (that I took).

But I did shake his hand. I'll probably get a cold now.

YES...I'm ON!

2011-09-29T08:48:00.001+01:00

Hurrah. I'm on the Detroit flight...option A. And I'm in Business Class. Whoooo hoooo. Nice one Rob.

And you'll never guess who else is on my flight. Tim Minchin. The Aussie comedian pianist who we saw at Greenman Festival this year (and who was simply mind-blowingly funny). I think he's in coach class though. Shame.

Boarding...but will I be?

2011-09-29T08:36:00.001+01:00

...?

Where is T4 Gate 24?

2011-09-29T08:16:00.001+01:00

Feels like I'm in some old tin shack harking back to the golden age of flying. Hopefully the pilot's not too MadMen in the Sky and hasn't breakfasted on dry martinis & a gin fuzz!

Just killing time....

2011-09-29T08:07:00.001+01:00

Tiddly pom. Things I shan't be troubling in Duty Free.

Clearing the fog

2011-09-29T07:10:00.001+01:00

Bit misty over the runway. And something to help clear my own personal fog. (Other coffee outlets are available.)

Heathrow 'Check-In'

2011-09-29T06:43:00.001+01:00

Well technically I'm not really checked-in....just politely requesting a seat....pleeease.

Heathrow T4

2011-09-29T06:18:00.001+01:00

That's more like it

London Heathrow

2011-09-29T05:59:00.001+01:00

Unfortunately, I want Terminal4.

Paddington Station, London UK 0530 Thurs

2011-09-29T05:52:00.001+01:00

Ok, first and potentially tricky step out of the way. Made Paddington in a cab from Camden.

Blurry pic represents how I'm feeling right now.

Spratticus The Blog Lives!

2011-09-29T05:01:00.000+01:00

Camden, London (way too early)

Hello there. Long time no blog. I'm about to embark on some transatlantic Odyssey to see see Brian & Robyn in San Diego and am traveling on Delta standby class (courtesy of Rob House - many thanks). It seems standby can be a bit of an adventure...so thought I'd try and post updates of my trials and tribulations on Spratticus.

Currently waiting for cab to Paddington at some ungodly hour. Upside, I'm awake (just) and didn't sleep through my (three) alarms.

A stroll in the park

2007-10-18T12:56:00.000+01:00

Regents Park & Primrose Hill, London
Just been mooching about snapping in the moody sunshine and showers we've been having lately. I think the below should give you a flavour of autumn in London.

...and if it doesn't, entertain yourself with Whoopee's little gem of a Burns-esque poem,aptly named Winter Days With Pants. If it doesn't crack you up, check you've still got a pulse or haven't become Austrian.

Dog Days of Summer BBQ

2007-10-17T00:46:00.000+01:00

Camden, London
The Flying Suit Fruity party on Saturday was a riotous success in many ways. In others it was less so. People flocked to Bole Mansions for the final farewell to the Dog Days of Summer BBQ. Booze...well that flowed...uh...huh. People from the five oceans and seven seas of my friendships; they came, they ate, they drank and they did chat.

England won a momentous Rugby World Cup semi-final against France thereby progressing to a very unexpected final against South Africa this coming weekend...but not without casualties.

I was almost lynched.

I forgot that I had programmed the TV recorder doo-dah-thingy (known by the residents of Bole Mansions...errr...that'd be me...as The Nuclear Sub for its mind-boggling complexity of operation) to record A Beautiful Mind. Fine. Well, no, not fine really as the film was on at about the same time as the second half of The Rugby Game. A quirk of the recorder is that it plays what you're recording, not necessarily what you or a large number of rugby fevered folk want to watch. There really is Jack Shit you, I (Jack Spratticus) or indeed Jack Bauer could do about it once the nuclear sub heads out on its course.

So at the nail biting, quick bleeding, piss stained crotch of The Rugby Game's crux, the film, let me remind you - A Beautiful Mind, started playing thereby usurping The Rugby Game with Ron Howard's best directorial efforts and seriously disgruntling a worryingly large number of camel coloured corduroy jacket toting, atypically angry types who were within a gnat's nut sack of spatchcocking me on the BBQ. I took solice in...well...more booze really.

Apparently my last conscious uttering was to the hot coals of the BBQ, something about 'it was an easy mistake to make' and 'no one understands me' whilst I caressed their rosy prettiness with a bamboo stick. Spratticus was declared collapsed and in a coma at 00:15, Sun October 14, 2007.

(L) Party food; (R) Seb & Iona

(L) Me looking perplexed; (R) Matthew Ledger in full England kit

(L) Christina & Jo buying another 6 bottles of prosecco; (R) Jo, Tom & Imo

(L) Just before I was lynched; (R) Carl & Leo

(R) Shelly & ear arm; (R) Simon, Ollie, Lizzie, Shelly

Sloe day in Buckinghamshire

2007-10-16T15:04:00.000+01:00

Olney, Buckinghamshire
Since returning from my travels I feel I have rather neglected Ma Spratticus. She took the trouble to bring me into this world, teach me right from wrong and the art of fencing with a car aerial amongst other essential lessons. She fed me strange offal based food stuffs and has insisted in latter years in calling me everything but my actual christian name, so I figured it was high time she was paid a visit. So it was back to the Shires for a few days last week.

And just to maintain all the stereotypes about retired teachers who live in small Shire county market towns, belong to book clubs, drive roller-skates with a motor and who are stalwarts of the local Women's Institute: we went collecting sloes and blackberries with which to make all sorts of fine home produced fayre; namely sloe gin, bramble brandy, bramble tart and apple & blackberry pie. Happy days.

Sloe bushes live up to their name. They are not fast so 'catching' the berries is really quite simple, even for someone like me. It's amazing they've lasted so long in the evolutionary stampede.

Here's Ma Spratticus rounding up a handful of blackberries. Very few berries are quick enough to escape her hawk like reactions.

Bramble picking. Displaying my blushing case of black-finger.

The fruits of our labours...oh dear. [I have realised quite how baking orientated the BligBlagBlog has become in the last couple of months. I really can't account for it.]

Before committing the sloes to their boozy fate, I made an art installation called Sloe Down III. I sent this snap to Sheena Wagstaff, Chief Curator of the Tate Modern but she didn't share my vision so fortunately we got to make sloe gin after all. Phew.

And here it is: Ma Spratticus' Sloe Gin. For the record: 700ml gin, 1.5kg sloes (pricked...that is run through with a skewer to help release the juice) and 800g of fine caster sugar. Store in a cool dark place and shake vigorously weekly. Try to resist sampling daily. Gestation period three months plus.

Bramble brandy recipe is same as above but you don't need to skewer the blackberries. They squeal of their own accord without the violence.

Coming soon, the gripping tale of my lemon curd hunting expedition to Burkina Faso.

Free Burma march & rally, London

2007-10-16T12:07:00.000+01:00

Here are a few snaps from the Free Burma march in London on Saturday 6 October. Great to see the supportive crowd although since then, it really feels like the Burma issue has dropped out of the public's consciousness completely. News of talk of threatened sanctions is about all that's getting press. Meanwhile, what the hell's happening within the country?

Trafalgar Square, London, Free Burma march and rally, Sat 6 October, 2007.

Trafalgar Square lion adorned with Free Burma red ribbons.
[Since posting this, the I've been asked to include the above two snaps on the Free Burma Group pics on Flickr...which is jolly.]

Base of Nelson's Column, commemorating his victory at the Battle of Copenhagen, 1801. Someone had tied a red Free Burma ribbon on one of the toes of the figures. It looked rather dramatic...a bit like the chap's foot was bleeding. I'm sure there's a more esoteric and meaningful analogy to be made...but it escapes me.

Monty Python announces Burma sanctions

2007-10-16T09:24:00.000+01:00

From the BBC website this morning. I really can't believe this. Quick double check. No, it's 16 October not 1 April:

"Earlier on Monday, the European Union agreed new punitive measures against Burma.

On top of a travel ban and a freeze on assets, Burma's generals now face fresh embargoes on some of their more lucrative exports - including jade, rubies and teak.

However, correspondents say, European sanctions have had practically no impact on Burma, as more than 90% of the country's trade is with its Asian neighbours.

The new measures will not prevent the French energy giant Total from doing business with the junta, though diplomats say that may come later."

Good stuff. That's a clear and strong message carrying all the clout of Ken Dodd's tickling stick.

Free Burma!

2007-10-04T07:00:00.000+01:00

Burma death toll, now and future?
In the week since the Burmese junta's use of force to quell the country's popular uprising, hard news from within Burma is proving hard to get. The Internet is rife with rumours of what's happening, but what seems to be undeniable is that monks have been targeted by the military and forcibly removed from monasteries. Where they have gone, what they have endured and how long they will be detained, or indeed remain alive, is unclear. Rest assured they aren't being given Darjeeling and tea cakes.

Unsubstantiated reports (here for example) suggest a systematic and organised massacre of monks. I wouldn't be surprised.

It also seems that the military is looking to arrest instigators and participants in the anti-government demonstrations from the public at large. Again, no surprise there.

The death toll from the street clashes is still officially stated as 10 and yet US diplomatic staff themselves said they witnessed dead in numbers that were multiples of that figure. The Democratic Voice of Burma, an exiles' media group based in Oslo, states that in the aftermath of the protests, they have the names of 138 citizens that they cannot account for or locate.

World action needed
What has and is happening will only become apparent, long after the event. What we do know without doubt is that people have suffered, are suffering and will continue to suffer, probably on a scale that will prove shocking. The evidence is there. The likelihood of orchestrated mass killings is too great and obvious to ignore. The world needs to act not stand around looking at its shoes rather embarrassed.

Desmond Tutu summed it up better than I could ever do:

"Protracted hand-wringing, the counter economic interests of some countries, and an absence of courage and vision over the years, have meant that there has been no coherent international government strategy on how to tackle Burma's intransigent rulers." (August 2006)

More true now than ever. Forget half-hearted visits from a UN Special Envoy (Ibrahim Gambari), and frankly he was made to look like the military junta's bitch. There needs to be some hard approaches from those countries that have economic interests within Burma and that doesn't just mean China, India, Thailand, Malaysia, Singapore and Japan. There are BIG Western interests in Burma, not least and not surprisingly - oil giants: Chevron & Total. (By the way, Chevron own Texaco if you want to do the right thing at the petrol pumps...then again, what petrol pump can you 'do the right thing' by using?)

US Secretary of State, Condoleezza Rice (ex-board member of Chevron) said at a recent meeting of the Association of South East Asians Nations, "The United States is determined to keep an international focus on the travesty that is taking place." Bullshit. Chevron oil flows out of Burma and money flows into the pockets of the junta's generals. Everyone is happy apart from the starving Burmese population who funnily enough don't benefit at all...apart from maybe getting labouring work on the oil projects...that is work as a forced labourer i.e. a slave.

China - Big Brother's big brother
China needs to be pulled into line to exert a pressure for change on Burma and stop adopting a development before democracy attitude. And what better way than a threat on the success of the 2008 Olympics? The Western partners of Beijing 2008, Adidas, Atos Origin, Johnson & Johnson and VW need to withdraw or at least threaten to withdraw support for the Olympics. See how quickly China will come around. And if it doesn't, those companies shouldn't be there anyway.

If the new world powers are actually the massive multinational companies that wield power over the politicians or are simply run by politicians with vested interests, then they need to be brought into account and forced to act responsibly and ethically. The only people that can force that are those that make them so powerful through buying their products...so that'll be you and me then?

UN resolution
Russia and China need to stop vetoing a UN Security Council resolution on Burma. Again, pressure must come to bear on them to do the right thing. Russia and China argue that human rights is outside the council's agenda of upholding international peace and security. International. Hmmm. So the thousands upon thousands of Karen tribe refugees in borderland refugee camps in Thailand isn't an international issue? This is only going to get worse with the latest crack-down and brutality towards Burmese freedom protesters.

There needs to be a UN Human Rights Council condemnation of the military junta's action against the country's people and a complete UN arms embargo, supported by China, Russia & India. What valid reason can anyone give to refuse a UN embargo on arms trade with Burma? It's deplorable. Why does international support have to be so reactionary and after the event?

In addition, there needs to be targeted sanctions by all EU members cutting off financial, trade and military relations with Burma including freezing any assets and bank accounts traceable to the State Peace and Development Council regime. (What a joke of a name.) Germany and Austria are the guilty parties here.

What's the world watching now? MTV?
1955, Montgomery, Alabama, USA. Rosa Parks ignited the Civil Rights Movement by refusing to give her seat up to a white man on a segregated bus. One woman in a small southern US backwater changed the shape of the most powerful nation on earth. Burma is about thousands of people calling for change and basic human rights, at great personal risk and under the scrutiny and awareness of the world. How can we ignore it?

In the days during the demonstrations, the phrase 'The world is watching you' was bandied about, a warning to the Burmese dictatorship that anything like the repeat of the 1988 massacre of over 3000 democracy protesters would be internationally unacceptable. A statement that any similar brutal reaction to peaceful demonstration would provoke massive international outrage and punitive action. But then the plug is pulled on the media news feed from Burma.

The world is watching you...until you prevent the world seeing what's going on and we all get bored of the 'Apologies for the interruption in transmission' message, shrug en masse and switch over to MTV. Just because we can't see or hear the Burmese people shouting, doesn't mean to say they aren't shouting. Stay tuned people!

[BTW, normal Spratticus flippancy, banality and nonsense will resume shortly.]

March for Burma, LONDON UK
Sat 6 October, 2007, 11:00am, Tate Britain, Pimlico - Trafalgar Square (c.12:45pm). Wear red. I'm going in a full Diablo devil suit complete with horns, tail and trident. (See what I mean about the flippancy!)

And here's a fascinating photo blog with rare (perhaps the only) images of the Burmese military rulers' new jungle capital at Naypyidaw. Incredible folly. Naypyidaw: Abode of Kings in a Derelict Kingdom

Burma fervour

2007-10-03T15:50:00.000+01:00

Camden, London
So first up, Ros made it out of Burma after being seemingly the only western journalist in the country for the past week...or at least the only one using her own name in by-lines. I've not got the low down yet on whether she had to be smuggled out in the back of a rice lorry in a stitched up burlap sack or she simply boarded a plane and waved cheerio. The good news is she's safe. No news from those still there though as the Internet and comms black-out seems to be working frustratingly effectively.

==========

[As I've been typing I've received an email from Ros:

... All a very sorry story there as you know. Very sad. I was a little jumpy and moved hotel three times - very John Le Carre. But they have bigger fish to fry than me, like those poor monks...]

==========

Tomorrow, 4 October, is International Bloggers' Day for Burma. For more info check out http://www.free-burma.org/. If you have any web presence or a blog then make a post with Free Burma! as the title and display a supportive graphic and text (I'm guessing relevant to Burma rather than Preston's 5-1 win over Southampton the other day).

Also Saturday 6 October is Global Day of Action for Burma with solidarity marches in major cities and capitals throughout the world, at least in those countries where public protest is allowed. In London there is a march in support of the Burmese people and their struggle for democracy. It leaves from outside Tate Britain in Pimlico at 11:00 and heads towards Trafalgar Square for c.12:45. Wear red. Headbands are tipped as being quite in vogue. For more information see:
http://www.burmacampaign.org.uk/pm/weblog.php?id=P290.

To be honest, I talked to Jo about going to this and as we both have an irrational fear of crowds (would that be a phobia?), we worked out a compromise - we'd go to the start, then take the dotty boat down the Thames to the Tate Modern, have a coffee and then saunter over at our own pace to the fringes of Trafalgar Square for some chanting and placard waving. I know, I know, it's hardly setting myself on fire in protest or lying down in front of columns of rolling tanks but I'm trying to work within my mental confines here.

Of other less consequential issues, my TagBoard (right) seems to have started displaying advertising. Not happy. I want this to be an ad free blog apart from about those issues, bands, flats for rent, films about bikes, Gerry Mitchell CDs that you can pick up from Amazon for £0.01 etc I choose to promote. Tried to fix the problem by reloading the Tag code (the simple no-ad Tag code) but it seems it's still popping up ads. Grrrr. Don't worry, I haven't sold out...I'll try and fix it when I get a chance.

I've also been suffering from a headache for days now. OK, two days, but it's unlike me and so naturally I am convinced I have a brain tumour. I really hope it isn't the case, it'd be such a frightful bore.

Pig Night

2007-10-02T14:06:00.000+01:00

JoB Mansions, Camden, London
Dinner last night with Dave, Pam and their baby son, Arjan, 'round here at JoB mansions. Decided to go all out, 100% pie. Fish pie for main, apple & plum pie for dessert. All went very well, and I think the apple & plum number was the pie-light.

Despite what it says on the crust, this was the apple & plum pie. I was trying to brand it with my new baking trademark - the backwards vowel. Unfortunately, a backwards 'e' looks like a forwards 'g' so my fruity dessert had an identity crisis and came across labeled up as a 'Pig' pie.

No developing news to report from the folk within Burma. I guess the government's crack down on Internet access has taken full effect. A quick search of online news sites today threw up plenty of stories with Ros's byline so she's still managing to feed info out somehow. Hope everything is OK.

I'm sure things are far from OK for the thousands of Buddhist monks that have been rounded up by the Burmese military and are seemingly being held in makeshift prisons outside of Rangoon. Something tells me most of them won't be seen by their families for a long time, or even at all. Ros's latest article in on the Independent website.

Burma update

2007-09-30T23:52:00.000+01:00

Well, I guess the update is, there is no real update. News from within Burma has dried up significantly. And with a stem in the information comes a predictable down grading of the story from lead article to third, fourth or even more humble news piece by the majors.

On account of my recent visit to SE Asia, I have a good number of friends and contacts there, not least of which is Christina. But there's also Andrew & Kelly, Justin & Kerren and Guy and their families. Christina and the rest of the S. the C. crew seem safe from what I can glean.

My good friend and mother of my godchild, Ros, is in Rangoon right now as well. Not that it matters to the world at large but she's also six months pregnant. As a freelance journalist, she's feeding news out as best she can, which makes me feel a little uncomfortable, as it does her husband Dan who's in Bangkok. It wouldn't need a rocket science degree in Internet Research (and why would you get a rocket science degree in Internet Research anyway?) to find out who or indeed where she is and therefore the Burmese authorities could easily have her pegged. Obviously she's there on a tourist visa as journalists are distinctly unwelcome at the best of times. So even if things calm down, surely she's a sitting duck for some serious questioning when she tries to leave the country? 'Why were you here?' and 'Why were you quoted all across Sky News, BBC, CNN, etc.?'

So China and why isn't it using its political power to initiate peaceful dialogue and regime change? Well, here's an interesting take: why would they be interested in lending support to a Buddhist monk led rebellion against an oppressive regime when they have spent 40 years trying to keep a lid on exactly that in Tibet? Forget currently having a full order sheet for arms to Burma. I think they are shit scared about revolution in Burma being a blue print for regime change in Tibet - a country they are actively oppressing and have been for decades.

All in all, it doesn't bode well. Give Burma some thought and don't let it slip from your conscience.

I say, it's party time - chocks away!

2007-09-28T09:17:00.000+01:00

London
Well, it will be PARRR-TAAAY TIME on Sat 13 Oct.

Hey there, fancy donning some fluffy shin
warmers and getting flying suit fruity?
Of course you do!

Sat 13 Oct 2007
@ my current digs in Camden, London

Rock up 2pm onwards.
Kids early, big kids anytime after you wake up.

Moustaches welcome.

[Email me for hard copy invite and map. If you don't know my email address, leave a TAG or comment and explain why you should get an invite...top three beggars get one.]

========================

Did I just hear that a baby of 17lbs was born in Russia this week. Ouch. That's just plain wrong.

And can anyone explain how a coffee percolator works. It's been perplexing and also fascinating me lately. How come all the water goes from the bottom up that little pipe, through the grounds and into the top bit. That said, if someone was blow-torching my arse, I'd try and crawl up a drainpipe to get away. I have been drinking far too much coffee just because I love seeing the oily, chocolate brown liquid froth out of the spout.

I even made another pot to take this picture! Don't worry, it won't go to waste, I'll drink it down...then go on a caffeine wired rampage around Camden ripping the wing mirrors off cars and flashing my knob at old ladies. Should fit in pretty well with the local YOOF...and bag an ASBO if I'm lucky.

And seeings as this post is stumbling around like a Saturday night drunkard, I have a dilema. I hate chavtronica but I really like Kate Nash. What to do? It must be all this hanging out in Camden.

Oh, and lastly, marrow fat peas. Why call yourselves that guys? I think you need to hire a new PR agency as you're not bad lads, just got a bad name.

Leonora Slowgrove - where are you now?

2007-09-28T00:01:00.000+01:00

JoB Mansions, Camden, London
My current digs are with my old friend Jo at JoB Mansions in Camden. It's a long story why, after returning from my travels, I didn't move back into my flat, The Borough Bunker, and for once I shan't rattle it out.

Anyway, I was drying down after having a shower this morning, having availed myself of a fresh towel from the airing cupboard, and I noticed it had a name tag. Equally (or more) odd was that it was the name of some lass I've never heard of: Leonora Slowgrove. This throws up a few questions:

1. Why has Jo got a name tagged towel when nearly 20 years has passed since 3C's swimming lesson, or 4C's gymnastics class?

2. Even ignoring that issue, why is it not her name on the tag? Did the towel end up in her kit bag by accident all those years ago and has languished in the airing cupboard unused 'til now? Or is it more sinister? Does Jo creep around school sports halls pinching unsuspecting victim's towels? Or does she invite people to stay in her house and then whack 'em, bury them in the garden and revel in stealing their linen?

3. Did she victimise Leonora at school, bully her and steal her towel, and now I'm unwittingly swabbing myself down with a towel belonging to some poor lass that is watching E4 nightly wondering why this world is so against her?

I've known Jo for 20 years or more, definitely more when you consider we were born in the same hospital in Norwich, two weeks apart in 1970. But do I really know her? Is she actually some crazed towel thief, stopping at nothing until she has a brushed cotton memento of all the people she has ever known?

A Google search for Leonora Slowgrove throws up NO hits. Jo is a sharp, shrewed and cool operator. I'd expect nothing less. Gone without a trace.

I tell you what, I'm going to be keeping a weather out for any irratic behaviour and I shall be guarding my brushed cotton pyjamas with my life from now on for fear of having a random name stitched into the seat and bodily ending up buried beneath the patio.

Jo's due back from Russia tommorow. If you never hear from me again...call the police!

Burma update from Rangoon

2007-09-27T16:01:00.000+01:00

Got another email from Christina in Rangoon, Burma. Nothing more than you'd know from watching the news on TV but I'll keep posting updates as I receive them.

=============================

Quick note as things have turned nasty - dont be alarmed when you hear of the shooting, we are miles away! All quiet where we are.

Ants - look out for Ros and Andrew live on Channel 4, BBC, CNN etc.! She's right in the thick of it! (But safe!)

All of us are following very strict security guidelines and not venturing near the flashpoints. It is all localised and NOT in the whole city.

Pray for the poor Burmese. It's a terrible day for them...

News from Rangoon, Burma

2007-09-26T13:41:00.000+01:00

In June I was in Burma (a.k.a. Myanmar) and of all the places I visited over this past year, it was the country that affected me the most: the time-warp feel of the place (Rangoon - 1950s, the countryside 1920s), the beautiful scenery, the backdrop of countless golden Buddhist pagodas and of course the people. The people above all else: their smiles, their welcome, their generosity, their honesty and their inner peace. And of course the thousands upon thousands of monks everywhere, from young boys of 10 to gracefully aged men, majestic and striking in their orange & maroon robes and shaved heads. It is hard to believe that a body of Burmese are in illegitimate power and act out the antithesis of all the qualities that were so abundantly obvious to me from the people I met: brutality, oppression, violence, hatred, malice, greed...basically evil.

Well, you'd have to have been on the moon not to know that it's all kicked off in Burma over the past 10 days. Public demonstrations, protests against the twisted regime and calls for political change was always a 'when' not an 'if' issue. It could have taken years or decades perhaps but history tells us that masses oppressed by a tyrannical regime will revolt.

Perhaps that it happened now was predictable - the information age accelerates people's understandings of their position relative to citizen's of other countries. After all, information is power. The Burmese en masse are learning what is going on in their own country and in the outside world, and what the outside world thinks of Burma, despite the regime's attempt to prevent any access to politically sensitive websites. They are getting a feel for how bent out of shape their country is due to its leaders greed and hunger for power and control. Access to foreign media and email, particularly from Burmese dissidents in exile in other countries, brings information on the human rights abuses carried out primarily on borderland ethnic minorities and anyone speaking out against the military junta.

In addition to the flimsy and ineffectual direct sanctions imposed on Burma by the US and EU, there has also been recent and unprecedented political pressure from Burma's wary allies in the form of the Association of South East Asian Nations (ASEAN), of which Burma is a partner. There has been barely disguised calls for political reform, something that has never happened before, brought on by the fact that Burma's shocking political and human rights reputation is scuppering trade deals between ASEAN and other trade bodies such as the European Union.

Throw into the mix widespread economic oppression - massive taxes on rice and other food produce going directly into the military generals' pockets and a doubling of state controlled fuel prices for no fiscally excusable reason and I guess that was the match to the tinder dry bonfire of public revolt.

Where it goes from here we shall have to wait and see. I suspect, whatever the outcome, there will be bloodshed along the way. Here's hoping reform, democracy and freedom are the outcome and the bloodshed is as minimal as possible.

The eyes of the world are indeed on Burma.

The beautiful side of Burma (Bagan, June 2007)
Further Burma photos

=======================

Christina's currently in the thick of the the action in Rangoon (or Yangon depending on your stance, just to confuse matters). Here are some extracts from an email I received to give you a flavour of what's going on on the ground (assuming you're bored of the BBC's coverage).

=======================

....well... as the sky darkens (its nearly black, and its only 2pm!) and the lightning shards pierce the sky (I'm getting all poetic now, in the face of doom), we hear the first reports of shooting, albeit in the air as warning shots...for now.

The monks carried on protesting (some just went by), followed by truck loads of special army commandos brought in from the eastern fronts. They are the tough guys.

We had reports of tear gas and riot police beating the monks in the big pagoda (Shwedagon), which is very bad. Roads are getting blocked to stop movement. Hospitals on standby. Not a good sign.....we are all safe in the office and not allowed out for now, stocks of every thing we need.

...the march that came past our office today had a few hundred monks at the front, and then civis with banners saying 'keep the world's eyes on us'... and indeed we should!

Justin just back from the front line, and interestingly his take is that it's not quite as 'drastic' as the media is making out. Sure there are confrontations, the police, the gas etc., but we are not talking organised violence or resistance, more of a scrappy skirmish.

We know a monk has been killed, and that is dreadful. The next few days are crucial now. Thai airways have cancelled their flights today, so we have to think of Plan B for getting out! Having said that Ros is on her way tomorrow... somehow! Funny we are getting more live news and pics from the cable TV as comms here are so bad!

Hovis, a boy on a bike, cobbled streets...ahhh the memories

2007-09-23T23:28:00.000+01:00

Central London
Ever wondered what it'd be like if you closed central London to cars and let the bikes take over? Well, it'd be a bit like it is with cars really - congested. Only it'd be congested with bikes. Funny that.

Actually that's a scewed view of today's Hovis Freewheel event - a bike focused day in central London. It just got a little congested around the hub in St James' although one cyclist's comment from the above video mustn't fall into the hands of any black cab or motorist lobby group as it would nullify any ground we pedal pushers have gained in the turf war of transport in London.

The below was more indicative of what it was like. In fact the underpass beneath Blackfriars Bridge was a riot of hollers, shouts, whoops, bell rings and horn honks. A better sound than the revving of stationary exhaust clogged traffic, you can't help but agree.

Above: doing something I shouldn't - film & cycle. Not because it's Whitehall and I could have been busted for doing recon for a subversive militant cycle organisation with a view to aggresive direct action. It's just the last time I tried to do anything but concentrate on cycling when on my bike, I fell off and sprained my ankle. Doh!

Adam, Pat, Cosima (sleeping) & Milo getting into the spirit.

I really hope whoever owned this bike rack had lost their lock key and had to divorce the rack from their bike and they hadn't (as I suspect) had their bike pinched for the sake of some short sighted bike security.

Shirt or Squirt: a kind of scaled down, bike-centric It's A Knock Out but without Arthur Ellis.

[By the way, did you know that (Sir) Ridley Scott directed the original 'New World Symphony' Hovis ad back in 1973? No? Well you do now. Never let it be said that Spratticus isn't educational as well as primarily pointless.]

The dark & light side of men's tote bags

2007-09-22T23:13:00.000+01:00

Gladstone Arms, Lant Street, London: Resonance 104.4 FM's Hello Goodbye show presents Acoustic Suicide XIII. Turned up too late for the tunes but did have a pint with the Badger and Gerry Mitchell, former Photographer of the Year, Scottish poet, established 'miserablist' & inveterate charmer who was also sporting a fetching tote bag (girl's bag in some circles). Up the tote!

I have to say Gerry's looks much more impressive in the dark - oooh errrr missus.

To treat your ears to the acid drop and spiky sound of Gerry Mitchell you could do a lot worse than check out:

Gerry Mitchell with Little Sparta: Carefully constructed ruins

Dexter Bentley: Brown Envelope (doesn't start 'til 0:13, Gerry pipes up at 2:15, stick with it)

I'm looking forward to hearing the deinty fruits of Gerry's collaboration with those ex-choir boys: Bag of Piss.

I have a job!

2007-09-21T12:02:00.000+01:00

So, it has been officially a month since I returned to Blighty from my travels (what as opposed to unofficially...get a grip man!). After a brief period of goggle eyed staring at double decker buses and pointing the wrong end of the remote control at a thing you call a t-e-l-e-v-i-s-i-o-n, I have a job.

I am the International Buyer for a major footwear collector. Crazy I know but it's true. OK, OK, so the major footwear collector is my brother in the States and the footwear in question is one pair of size 9 desert boots (or chukka boots as I'd call them altho' I don't know why I'd call them that)...and I'm not getting paid but it looks good on my CV right?

Being an International Chukka Boots (Size 9) Buyer (an ICB(S9)B as we like to call ourselves) isn't as easy as you might imagine. You have to covertly take a picture of the chukka boots (size 9) to get confirmation from the client that they are up to scratch and of the desired chukka style and chukka quality. You then get quizzical looks from fellow Chukka Boots Buyers (CBBs) and shop staff at Wanderland Discount Shoes, which could escalate into a potential 'situation' where they accuse you of international retail espionage and ask you to leave. It's complicated and fraut with danger but the rewards are well worth it.

Robert Shepherd Promotion Week

2007-09-20T11:07:00.000+01:00

Well, apparently it's Robert Shepherd Promotion Week on Spratticus, so why stop at tea-towels? Below is a piece called Horrors of War.

Interested in seeing more? Don't hold back, leave a comment or TAG and I'll post different Shepherd pieces up each week if you like.

Or contact him directly on:
Tel +44 (0)20 7388 0115
Fax +44 (0)20 7388 2822
info@unitypeg.co.uk

Freaky Fighting

2007-09-19T13:03:00.001+01:00

[Brief background for those new to the 'Spratticus meets Freaky Realistic' scene that's been going on lately:

Freaky Realistic (FR) - short lived band from 1993 that my friends Dan, Dave and I spend too much time talking about when we get together. Aki Omori, ex-band member of FR, now yoga teacher (and singer) in west London. Dan & I unearthed her blog and dropped her a note about the long defunct FR. She replied and we now have far more info to obsess about than is healthy for 30-something men.]

The internet dialogue with Aki Omori, ex-band member of Freaky Realistic, continues and takes on an even more surreal twist. She posted this on Oh My Dog, Both Freaky & Realistic but I thought it was worth bubbling it up to the surface. Incredible stuff, especially for a band who sang of 'cosmic love vibes'. In fact the perpetrator of the guitar assault on lead singer Justin, MPL (rapper Michael), raps in one song - 'Yo Justin sing of a love that loves.' (Perhaps the only instance of the name Justin appearing in a rap.) Whacking Justin upside the noggin with a guitar wasn't exactly a selfless act of brotherly love. Inexcusable, even if he had stolen his bag of Spicy Tomato flavour Wheat Crunchies. Read it and be amazed:

"hi there

thanks for the comments in my blog. useless answers to your questions;

where's Michael - the rapper?

I've no ideai've not seen him since the fight - you must vaguely know about this. god knows how it got there but it was in NME, the story slightly modified. justin & michael had a fight in the rehersal studios. a physical one. i still remember rushing into the studio with a bad feeling as they were left alone there while the rest of us went to get sandwiches. And found michael swinging a guitar up in the air about to hit justin who was already on the floor with it. i screamed & the bass player tackled michael to stop him. i had to take justin to hospital casualty afterward - my friend Alex from the Orb happened to be in the next room rehersing and I remember borrowing £10 - all in one pound coins they were - from him to get a cab there. it was just bruises. the next day we played a gig without michael. justin in sunglasses. so in the end FR was just me & justin. a little drama of the band. otherwise we were a pretty peaceful band, really. cosmic love vibes, oh yeh.

who/what is koochie ryder?

it's whatever you want it to be

just come back from NZ - you seem to have been there yourself recently. a fabulous land, don't you think?

be well

aki x"

A fantastic piece of insider info and amazing amount of detail there: the sandwiches, the 10 one pound coins, and the fact they were borrowed from the Orb's Alex. Wonderful, even if it was a slightly evasive answer regards what Koochie Ryder actually means. Now, how to broach the subject of Aki being the guest of honour and prize giver at the annual ADWorld XI vs Lackademicals cricket match next year without it coming across as just a little weird?

Shepherd of the flock

2007-09-18T10:36:00.001+01:00

London
In this world there are people that read the script and there are people that write the script. Then there are a handful of people who rip up the script, stick it on a wall, daub it in paint and leaves and glitter, set fire to it, get some friends round to watch the flaming scene whilst having a pavement party and drinking cans of Holsten Pils, laugh and then walk away. Have they created art? Maybe. They certainly don't play in society's defined behavioural sphere.

My friend Robert is like that and it's a breath of fresh air to meet up with him for unhinged and free form chat: stories that start two thirds of the way through and are told in both a forward and reverse gear often with a diversion down a cul-de-sac; talk of historical sci-fi graphic novels about rival gangs of tramps, politicians & pigeons battling infront of a yester-year Bloomsbury backdrop; cooking up crazy photographic projects; simply revelling in nonsense language play about pies; a writing retreat to a Swedish bakery. Pretty much anything at the other end of the spectrum from house prices, stock market jitters and reality TV. Terrific. Yesterday's lunch with Robert at Alara on Marchmont Street was just such an occasion.

I left him with a smile on my face and a spring in my step as always (despite my reluctantly healing sprained right ankle...thanks for the sympathy, cards and flowers that have flooded into Spratticus HQ by the way. Touched).

Here's Robert with his new DVDs containing the back-catalogue of his artwork all ready to be sold to a shrewd art collector with an eye for the genius.

Robert's taste in records and knitwear might leave a little to be desired though.

Now here's a pretty gratuitous plug (excuse the pun...you'll see that it's a pun later) but if you're struggling for a suitable birthday present or Christmas gift for your Maiden Aunt Maude or anyone dear to you in fact, you could do worse than picking up one of Robert's original art-towels (tea towels with his art work on it) or table cloths from UnityPeg. Small taster below:

And for no other reason than I found this facility on my camera yesterday, here's a multi burst picture of some random commuter on a train.

Oh My Dog - Both Freaky & Realistic

2007-09-13T10:19:00.001+01:00

If you are a regular to Spratticus (I thank you even if I do question your judgment), then you may remember I recently had a night in Bangkok with Dan doing 'research'...OK, getting merry and giddy about the 1993 band Freaky Realistic (Mary Poppins Fights Freaky Realistic). To be honest, you may remember it better than I do, it's all a little hazy. Well, Dan & I somehow stumbled across former Freaky Realistic band member Aki Omori's current blog site - http://www.akiomori.blogspot.com/ and wrote her some half-baked message that didn't even make sense to us at the time so heaven knows what she thought of it.

BUT would you believe it - she's replied! She left a message on my Mary Poppins Fights Freaky Realistic post, which I am now regretting giving such a ridiculous name. Here it is:

"you found me and i found you by chance! i'm always amazed that some people still mention us after all these years. cheers for your persistence and spare time you seem to have.see if you notice this comment... i am a yoga teacher, indeed. i live in west london not north though.the orb's next single has a bit of my singing again also an artist called subsonor's new album has 3 songs i worked on. done a few more tunes this year elsewhere too all in between yoga stuff. they all sound different from FR [Freaky Realistic - ed] however. safe trip. x "

There are a few things to note here.

Well, it wasn't exactly chance - Dan & I cyber stalked her basically.
She seems to have a sixth sense that picks up I have quite a lot of spare time at the moment. INCREDIBLE.
I shall be buying The Orb's next single and checking out Subsonor, he sounds pretty smashing, I'm sure you will agree.
Dan thinks she would be a worthy celeb to hand over the Regents Cup at next year's Kew Green cricket match; I'm going to ask her if she would honour (humour) us...and she lives in west London so could probably swing over on her bike.

There's more to be uncovered through our new connection to the fabulous and much missed Freaky Realistic, such as where is the rapper MPL now and what/who exactly is Coochie Ryder?

This is all too exciting for words...as you may have gathered if you've read this far. Here are some snaps to get you freaking your realism - Justin 'Liquid' Anderson (on The Word) (c), Aki Omori (l), rapper MPL (r). Terrific.

Housework & general cleaning by Faithless

2007-09-11T10:26:00.000+01:00

Shepherds Bush, London
Freebie tickets to see Faithless at Shepherds Bush Empire on Monday courtesy of Christina's friend, Bill. Thanks Bill. Jo drove being off the sauce. Thanks Jo.

You suddenly realise that they had their moment of high glory quite a while ago when you look around the crowd and everyone is in their thirties. Then you look at yourself and you're in your (late...eeek) thirties and wearing cords and sporting a limp. Oh dear. At least I didn't have my walking stick. Seriously - Mum bought me one when I sprained my ankle (see Running to Stay Still).

Great gig though and Maxi Jazz, the grand oral disseminator (self proclaimed), still exudes cool, even though he is probably in his late 40s

At least Rollo allied himself with his more mature audience, even back in 1997. From the CD sleeve of 'Reverence' : Rollo's Hobbies - "Housework and general cleaning." Class.

Here are a set of snaps from my phone that show you nothing but look pretty all together.

Ode to a Geek Yearn

2007-09-09T09:34:00.000+01:00

My friend and neighbour The Badger (of Chappel Beer Festival notoriety) helps host a Saturday lunchtime radio show on Resonance 104.4FM (London's arts based radio station) called Hello Goodbye. It's a jumble of his (and co-host Richard Bentley's) warped yet delightfully eclectic taste in music championing the oft flea bitten underdogs of the music scene and includes live sessions from crazy named bands along with more unusual items such as interviews with flexi-disc collectors and players of the spoons. I understand once the live performances were pedal powered (Open Bike Night)...getting the vibe? It's been off-air for a wee while but comes back loud & proud on Sep 22. You really should give it some ear time.

Anyway, a few years ago I got badgered into submitting a piece for one of his shows called One Minute Wonders - the concept being for listeners to submit a one minute piece of work: music, prose, poetry, comedy, white noise, an old lady hiccoughing into her shoe...whatever and c.60 of them would form the one hour show.

Well, I've just discovered that my 'piece' is on the Dexter Bentley website (the band Badger & Richard play in) and available to be downloaded/listened to. You can do so here if you wish to endure a rather camp sounding fellow (errr...me...why do I always sound so differently to how I imagine I do?) reciting a rather up-its-own-arse poem, cooked up in my own wordy kitchen, to the background noise of traffic and bikes.

It's a deep shame and indeed a loss to mankind that 49. Martin: Answer Machine : 1.14 and 50. John Wynne: How to use a Condom : 1.03 aren't available to download as they are genius. You'll have to take my word for it. Still Fizzy Bangers: Short Attention Span is there to make up for it.

(Beer from) Leaves & Twigs on the Line

2007-09-07T11:22:00.000+01:00

Chappel Beer Festival, Essex
I'm not religious but I go to Chappel once a year. [GROAN! Not my idea, it was printed on a XXL t-shirt]. Actually it's true, I went last year and I found myself there again this year. And let's face it, The Chappel Beer Festival was the REAL (ale) reason that I returned from my global roaming!

Chappel Beer Festival is probably the best beer festival I've ever been to (and there's some tough competition) obviously because it serves a vast array of fine ales but also it has the added frisson of being held in the East Anglian Railway Museum...so there are trains and assorted large railway things to look at and old 1940s style carriages in which to drink the beer. Smashing.

So with great fervour and a level of precision planning only associated with sniffing out some fine nutty brews, The Badger, Shelly, Ian and myself met at Liverpool Street Station, purchased a Family Saver ticket (huh?) for Chappel & Wakes Colne (change at Marks Tey...who makes up these names? Enid Blighton?) and hopped on the 17:08. Shelly was a bit nervous about joining in being a 'no-tail', but I assured her I saw a woman there last year (on reflection however, it might have been a man without a beard).

Crouch Best proved to be my personal favourite to begin with followed by anything wet and brown in a glass.

Pics say it better as ever:

Raising the holy chalice of ale at Chappel.

The Badger & Ian thrusting forth their brews whilst enjoying a stationary 'ride' in a rail carriage.

The Badger, Shelly and myself in a beautiful old railway carriage. We had to lock Shelly in there for most of the evening due to the interest sparked amongst the bearded masses by a woman at a beer festival. They were shuffling menacingly around the carriage in their baggy Matalan slacks and oversized Ts and murmuring in low tones like a scene from Night of the Living Dead. Scary.

Ian buying a pint a pint of Scabby Hog in the Shunters Arms (errr...a goods carriage turned into a bar).

Ian at a jaunty angle after a pint of previously mentioned Scabby Hog.

We also met up with Adam (above stuffing his face with veggie curry so fast it's a blur) who was accompanied by Dr Bateman & Dr Davies - handy in case of medical emergency. Good thinking.

The main 'Shed' with thronging crowd of beards braying for booze.

Ian & Shelly surveying the vista of fine ales. I assume that's what they were doing. Either that or watching a man in a leather hat & waistcoat breakdance to the 'band' murdering Lynyrd Skynyrd's Sweet Home Alabama.

And finally we returned back to Liverpool Street...errr...slightly merry.

For The Badger's eye view of events check out his blog and photos.

Running to stay still

2007-09-04T18:55:00.000+01:00

Camden, London
So, what has been going on since the smoke belched off the wheels of a landing Air New Zealand flight from Hong Kong and deposited me wide eyed and bewildered into the hub-bub of 'home', the weird combination of the frenetic, new and yet familiar? As an aside, I have to say seeing so many European faces has oddly freaked me out, a bit like when I came back after a previous period in the States where, on the cat front, I had been used to seeing an ex-girlfriend's Burmese pug faced wee beastie and on seeing 'normal' cats, I cringed as they all seemed to have a massive and grotesque muzzle. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that Caucasians have massive and grotesque muzzles, just I'm more used to seeing Asian faces and it still feels odd that there are so many Europeans about.

Well, it simply seems that I have been running to stand still. So much going on, so many people to see and events to go to and yet on the achievement front, or more accurately figuring out what I'm going to do to earn some beans and where I'm going to do it, I have achieved a fat lot of zip. Hey ho.

But (and I know starting a sentence with 'But' would have my old English teacher Chris Nicholson spinning in his velvet smoking jacket) but, let's not dwell on that for now.

What have I been up to (apart from almost freezing to death daily, especially as I've been insisting on continued flip flop foot attire)?

Well, first up there was a swift visit to Brighton to say 'Hello there' to Christina and have a fun if strange evening of cocktail making tuition in a rather glitzy members club where, provided you made cocktails with vodka, the tuition, the ingredients and indeed the downing of said knee-kickers was all free! Not sure if the proprietor had been reading Clive Sinclair's 20 Hot Tips on Running a Business but I feel the model was fundamentally flawed. Of course that didn't stop Christina and me from trying to bankrupt them and teach them a harsh lesson...free of charge!

L: Christina shaking her lemon squeezer and R: me about to redecorate the bar in Ile Blanc Martini (sorry Jeff, distinctly vodka based martini...I'll leave the gin martini education to when I next see ya).

Then a quick dash back to see Ma in Bucks...and also collect my bike so I could once again spin free as a bird and unfettered around London's traffic choked streets. Feels great to have my own 'wheels' once again although it became apparent very quickly that my rear was as unused to sitting on a narrow saddle as my legs were out of practice at spinning the cranks. My butt's only just been broken in to the bike and stopped aching after nearly two weeks.

My provisional London base is with JoBole in Camden. Jo has pretty much played the role of London HQ support staff for my year's expedition and so I am repaying her by crashing in her spare room, raiding her fridge and being a general house irritant. That's gratitude, huh? Still, there's an upside of having me stay - my new found desire to bake CaKe (not such an upside if you're looking to lose weight).

Jo & her friend Jane at the CaKe sacrifice ceremony.

Being back in Camden is a bit odd for its over familiarity and cycling to and from the Borough Bunker (still trying to rent it out, a story I shan't go into for fear of raising my blood pressure) is far too reminiscent of my previous years' commute to & from work. Grim (although the cycle ride is dramatic and actually pleasant).

And of course there was the cricket. The first game on the evening of Thurs Aug 23 was sadly rained off. Cycling from Camden to Kew where we now play our cricket, the rain reminded me of the stair rod style precipitation of Franz Josef on the west coast of NZ. Ridiculous. In fact at 17:30 when we were meant to commence the game the pitch was under an inch of water. Booo!

It was at this time that my London host, sponsor and all round wonderwoman, Jo Bole, unfortunately was struck down with a nasty kidney infection and ended up in University College Hospital for three nights, which was a scare but thankfully she survived. Planet Organic off Tottenham Court Road experienced a trebling of profits over that period!

Then there was the cricket match proper: the 14th annual fixture of ADWorld XI vs Lackademicals XI playing for the Regents Cup, a game that started out amongst a bunch of friendly wastrel misfits back in the early 90s as a way of getting together to fill a bank holiday Sunday cheaply by playing cricket in Regents Park with ill fitting and inadequate kit whilst drinking vast quantities of cheap cider. Since the inaugural match all those years ago the fixture has transformed immeasurably. Wives, partners and a menagerie of nippers pack out the boundary, people fly in for the fixture from around the globe (me & Justin from Hong Kong; Dan, Ros & Ruby from Bangkok), fizzy wine has replaced cider (for some) and gourmet picnic hampers have usurped a bag of Frazzles and late night kebab. We're still all friends and vast quantities of booze are still drunk, so some things never change.

Fortunately the weather had improved since Thursday:

L: The two teams in group shot. R: Justin (from Hong Kong) & I feign amazement at having won the Regents Cup. As usual, Justin did a stirling job of providing team shirts from his tailor in Hong Kong. They were certainly more tasteful than the rain cloud grey and baby puke yellow ones we had one year!

Captain Rik awards Captain Dan the Captain's pint and then Captain Dan does the same to Captian Rik. Captainly stuff.

L: I down my prize pint, whilst the Honeychurches look on, awarded not for cricketing prowess of course but for distance travelled to play in the game. R: Ian did a capital job manning the BBQ until he fell over a low fence, hurt his back and got glass in his foot. I suspect more wine went in Ian than in the steak marinades.

What else, what else? Well, a face from my travels, Leo from Darwin, was passing through London and I managed to meet up with him for a picnic in Hyde Park. Good to see you again Leo and good luck with the move to Tasmania.

And between meeting old friends and fast growing additions such as Seb & Gail's daughter, Iona Biggins, and eventually savouring a pint of oft dreamt of nutty brown Harvey's Best Bitter at the Royal Oak, Tabard Street...

...I managed to fall off my bike and have badly sprained my ankle. ARSE!!

Life's never frikking dull is it!!?? And to prove that point, I've got to hobble off as there's the Chappel Beer Festival in Essex to visit this evening, a beautiful way of drawing the circle on my year away as it was one of the last things I went to in this country before I fled these shores!

Let's GO!!

Quintessentially missed

2007-08-25T18:35:00.000+01:00

London
Three things that have taken up a strangely disproportionate amount of daydream time on my year away:

Blighty Bound

2007-08-22T17:46:00.000+01:00

Borough, London
So that's it. Cheerio Hong Kong, au revoir SE Asia, so long to global wayfaring and HELLO Blighty. So was I cheered into the country at a cheese and champers reception? Were friends lining up to clasp me close and bid me a welcome home? Was bunting lining Behomia? Well...sort of:

http://theoxo.blogspot.com/2007/08/return-of-wanderer.html

Actually, it's pretty cool to be back.

Hong Kong - Sore Neck

2007-08-19T10:28:00.000+01:00

Hong Kong, Aug 16-19, 2007
Oh, hello. Sorry been a bit off comms lately but here's a flavour of my stay in Hong Kong, a city where you really get a sense of how insect small you are as you wander between monolithic steel & glass altars to the god Commerce. It really is enough to give you a crick in the neck staring up at them. If you get bored of that there's always massive shopping malls to get lost in, all paying homage to the deities of Gucci, D&G, Calvin Klein, Louis Vuitton and Barry Bobbins (my personal favourite designer label hailing from north Bedfordshire and specialising in brussels sprout picking haute couture).

(By the way, I'm having a personal battle with my own pun-tastic and cheesy-gag self to prevent myself writing 'phooey'. I guess I have just lost that battle.)

Many thanks to Justin, Cathy and their three nippers who put me up in Stanley and treated me like royalty, albeit wide eyed and agog royalty that had led a very low-rise and sheltered life. I think Stanley, Hong Kong:

must be slightly different from Stanley, Falkland Islands:
(Aerial picture of Stanley, Falkland Islands courtesy of my brother. He was flying the plane from which the photo was taking apparently. Don't know why; he's an accountant.)

As ever, it's best described in pics:

The old and the new Bank of China Buildings. Justin works on the 42nd floor of the new one, about where the shoulder starts to come in. Dizzying. The old Bank of China building is now the swanky China Club where Justin & I took lunch one day, China Club sandwiches (what else?) and a delicious drink that is my new favourite softie - Gunners: half ginger beer, half ginger ale, bitters and slice of lemon. Move over Dr Peppers. I managed to drag the tone down by rocking up in flip flops and so Justin had to persuade them to let me in wearing a pair of borrowed black silk club slippers. Can't take me anywhere!!

Another great thing about Hong Kong, if you get bored staring at 1000ft skyscrapers or blowing cash on shoes and bags, you can go surfing. We went round the coast from Stanley to Big Wave Bay which, contrary to the name, was more than manageable for the trio of energy above (l-r: Lochlan, Dominic, James) on boogie boards. Naturally, I struggled and swallowed half of the South China sea.

Mary Poppins fights Freaky Realistic

2007-08-15T09:23:00.000+01:00

Bangkok, Thailand
Made it to Bangkok on Monday after a rather rude early start in Hanoi. At HQ BKK - Ros & Dan's house, my SE Asian home from home, all was eerily quiet on account of the absent Ros & Ruby who are back in the UK.

First priority of course was for me and Dan to sport our matching swimmers and get to work on our synchronised swimming routine. It went very well. Expect to see more of us on obscure satellite sports channels over the coming months building up to Beijing '08.

Secondly, a traditional Thai meal was needed. So we had a terrific Lebanese mezze.

Job done. Now all that remained was for us to pick up our favourite line of conversation when left to our own devices - 'Where are the band members of Freaky Realistic now and what are they up to?' In the background tunes from their wonderful only album, Frealism, were playing of course.

I get periodic updates from The Badger as to what Justin 'Liquid' Anderson is working on since the 1993 evaporation of FR.

Checking out the FR website, that's still running after all these years, there was a certain amount of initial disappointment over the fact that the Ask Aki [Omori] A Question section on their website threw back a 'Sorry, Aki cannot answer your question' message. Come on, it's only been 14 years since the band dissolved, surely Aki must still be there in cyberspace waiting to answer all the Freaky yet Realistic questions that must flood in daily.

Still, there was this good quote from Alan Anderson (Justin's brother) regarding their 1993 appearance on The Word:

"I was in the audience watching them perform on The Word. Bob Holness was dressed as a hippie for some reason. They had lent him a dog to complete the image and it bit me."

Actually you can view their entire performance on The Word from their website. Worth checking out, especially if you've just learnt you're immortal so have some spare time on your hands.

Here's a rather blurry snap of Dan doing some cyber detective work. The drink to his right is what we have named a Mary Poppins - gin (or vodka...or indeed any white spirit...in fact you could use actual white spirit if you like), guava juice, a splash of tonic and some fresh limes. The reason for the name is it lessens the pain of having to endure Ruby's obsession with and endless need to watch Mary Poppins on DVD. Obviously the two year old Ruby wasn't around but that didn't mean we shouldn't immunise ourselves (heavily) with the Mary Poppins antivenin. And we did.

And then BINGO, we struck FR pay dirt! Aki has a blog. Right here on Blogger in fact. She's now a yoga teacher living in north London. I'm not sure how far we got to tracking down the erstwhile rapper MPL, Mary Poppins had clearly given my a thorough shoeing and I had to retire.

The farewel to Bangkok
Dan was leaving Bangkok today and I'm going to Hong Kong tomorrow so we had a farewell 'bash' last night. This involved very swanky cocktails at an open air bar called Breeze on the 57th floor of the State Tower. Bangkok is a phenomenal sight from 600ft, at sunset, with a Negroni in hand. The conversation didn't swing round to Freaky Realistic this time.

Chit Lom BTS Skytrain station towards sunset.

Dan, cocktail in hand, sunsetting behind and the lights of Bangkok coming alive below. Smashing. Doesn't Dan look snap in his John Smedley top. Like Paul Weller's younger brother.

You may notice that I've had a haircut. Can't say it's the best I've ever had. My Thai haircut vocab only stretches to nit noi, which means 'a little bit'. I had clearly pronounced it incorrectly.

And of course, a couple of cocktails to the fore and all the sophistication goes out of the window and I get a chuckle out of the name of this tailor's shop. Oh dear.

Right, next stop Hong Kong, the final foreign destination on my global meanderings. See you there.

I really am in Hanoi, honest

2007-08-12T08:40:00.000+01:00

Hanoi, Vietnam
Well, now the camera's back in action, let's get some dumb snaps up on here. Obviously I could have taken pics of Hanoi's bustling streets, the architecture and impressive cityscape but no...

The demise of Milky Joe, from darling of the small screen to toilet mounted ash tray. Poor Milky, reminds me of the slide into shambling obscurity of Richard O'Sullivan of Robin's Nest fame.

OK, so it's not big taking the rise out of foreign notices in the English language but this really did make me laugh.
- No.6. Obviously financial penalties weren't doing the trick.
- No.8. I was clearly breaching two of this hotel's rules, especially with Ming the Merciless in tow.

And here's a snap so you can see how desperately in need of a hair cut I am. Doesn't prove I'm in Hanoi, just that I've got a dodgy Barnet and was somewhere drinking beer with a bloke from Barnsley (although you can't tell that from the picture either). You'll have to take my word for it.

Camera exorcised

2007-08-12T08:30:00.000+01:00

Hanoi, Vietnam
Seems that I have managed to clean up my camera from whatever evil spirit had invaded it: basically formatting the memory card and internal memory and sprinkling it with holy water whilst chanting a Voodoo spell.

So, I have gone back and added some pictures to my previous post about Hoi An & Hue. Check 'em out if you like...or take a leap off Tower Bridge with five bob's worth of lit Roman Candles in your pockets, that would probably be more exciting.

Ha-noise

2007-08-10T07:27:00.000+01:00

Ha Noi, Vietnam
[Camera still suffering from the lurgy and not letting me download pics so sorry, no visuals. Bummer.]

Well, I survived the trip to Hanoi, or Ha Noi or even H Anoi if you like (everyone writes it differently). It was 14hrs of near torture, and I really mean that: the air con vent was leaking above me so I had a regular drip of water falling on my noggin, which I believe, yup, is a method of torture. And after a midnight snackstop, everyone apart from me seemed to get back on board with some vinegar steamed, fermented leech gizzards or something as the smell of what folk were eating was really rather rum. And then there was the team of Chinese shower parts salesmen that were having what I could only understand to be a sustained shouting competition. I don't think there was a clear winner - they were all equally excellent at it.

That's one thing about Vietnam, in fact SE Asia in general but Vietnam especially - the constant noise. There really is no escaping it: the beeping, the banging, the blaring, the balling, in fact any 'b' that means loud noise, they're at it from dawn 'til well past dusk. Even the interaction between locals is more like a verbal boxing match than a discussion, regardless of what it might be about:

Mrs Nguyen & Mrs Pham might be discussing the price of frogs but to an outsider it sounds like one is accusing the other of killing her youngest child, roasting it and eating it with a lime marmalade dressing.

I wonder if there is a Vietnamese word for 'hush' or whether you can literally translate 'I'm just going to kick back and enjoy a little peace and quiet, maybe with a Rich Tea biscuit'?

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not totally whinging about it, in fact it's great at times - makes you feel like you're right in the thick of things, especially in Saigon or Hanoi. Just other times, it's a drag, like 6:30am and the construction site outside your guesthouse window is in full swing (seemingly using dynamite), two cleaners are verbally clawing each others face off outside your door, the motos are constantly beeping and there's a van with a loud speaker blaring out martial music and local cinema listings coming down the street. Time to get up then? Maybe so.

Hanoi is fab though. Went to see the embalmed body of Ho Chi Minh yesterday, I guess just for the ghoulish sake of it (photos forbidden I'm afraid). Funny that he expressly wished to be cremated before he died and not embalmed but they did it anyhow.

HCM: My dying wish is that I will be cremated.
Personal physician: Of course Mr Ho.
HCM: I think this is it, I'm going...euuuggghhh...
Personal physician: Right lads, get him in the formaldehyde, we've got the Ho Show to put on!

Poor fella.

Right, I'm off to try and get my camera disinfected. Stay alert!

(Oh, and my left foot has swelled up like some form of flesh coloured balloon. I wonder what that can mean?)

Of swim shorts Ming the Merciless and other bobbins

2007-08-08T08:47:00.000+01:00

[Have revisited this post and added some pictures now I've managed to drag them kicking and screaming off my rather wan camera. Enjoy!]

Hue, Vietnam
Oh hello, fancy finding you here.

I'm having a fearful strife getting pics off my camera at the moment so there's no visual titillation (unless looking at Verdana font rocks your world...it does mine, I can assure you). Bit worried about it as the last time I tried to 'Explore' my memory card I briefly saw a collection of folders on there that I don't remember having added myself, one entitled Administrator Porn. Nope, I'm pretty sure that one wasn't one of mine. Maybe all this promiscuous dirty 'porting', sticking his USB cable into any old cheap foreign slot in Cyber Cafes has got Cam a nasty dose. And if some digital gremlin is going to infect my camera, well fair enough, but share the love - let me see this porn as well. Hey ho.

Weather (I am English after all)
So what's new? Well, it's been raining a lot...and I mean a lot. Enough to make Gloucestershire feel like the Atacama desert I'm sure. Some cyclone passing through that has been shedding its heavy tropical tears on the region. Perked up today though you'll be glad to hear. So that's the weather done with.

Swimmers of Hoi An
Had a lovely time in Hoi An, a Unesco World Heritage City and also city of a thousand tailors. And yup, got the swim shorts made up. Felt a bit bad cheating on my original tailor in Singapore but that's the cut & stitch world of tailoring for you. The shorts weren't quite as natty as I had in mind - was thinking red, yellow and orange trim on a brown base - but in the end they ended up just plain Orange & Brown but hey...that's what it's all about. In fact had some made up with pale blue trim on a brown base as well, so thanks for the advice Evan, but I was there a little before you. In fact I got a bit carried away and also had a pair of O&Bs made for Dan, I mean at $7 a pop, it would have been churlish not to. It will be good to have matching swimmers for our bid to represent GB in the synchronised swimming pairs event at Beijing 2008. (Pictures to follow...of swimmers...not us in the 2008 Olympics...when/if I can clean up my camera.

Other than that, Hoi An was charming and had more than its fair share of lanterns.

Ming the Merciless
After five months of noodling about the tropics I think it's fair to say that some, most in fact, of my clothing isn't in the best of shape. As a product of endless sweating, getting rained on and in the rainy season often clothes taking a long time to dry after being laundered, some of my T-shirts have developed that clawing, sweet-sour, fusty, just-not-right smell: Ming the Merciless. Once in your clothes then that's pretty much it. You can wash them and wash them, add as much disguising fabric conditioner as you like but somewhere in there lurks Ming and out he will pop, and then even you are upset at having to sit next to you on an eight hour bus ride. I remember Ming the Merciless visited a pair of Radar's snowboarding gloves once and they had to be quarantined and then burnt. It took months for him to scrub the smell off his hands. I think I'm going to have to ditch most of my T-shirts when I get back to Bangkok, which is a shame as I rather like a couple of them, but that's the only way to get rid of Ming. That or skewer him with the point of War Rocket Ajax.

Plumbing the depths
So, here I am in Hue, Vietnam and what do I find myself mostly doing? Scouring the web for SE London plumbers. Kerrr-Ray-Zeee. It's all musical flats back at the Borough Bunker and there's a slow bath drainage issue (gripping stuff huh?) that needs resolving before the next incumbent takes up residence. So has it been getting awestruck by the Tomb of Tu Duc, the Tomb of Minh Mang or the pagoda of Thien Mu? No it's been emailing or trying (unsuccessfully) to Skype Steve-The-Plumber or DIY Darren. I did find a plumber in Walworth called Yen Lin Chong, so that made me feel like I hadn't completely lost that SE Asian connection. And I did manage to get to the Citadel (Kinh Thanh) and the intriguingly named Forbidden Purple City yesterday, which contrary to its given nomenclature is neither purple nor forbidden. I wanted my money back; the bare faced cheek!

So killing a spot of time just now waiting for another bus, perhaps my last 'eric' overnighter in SE Asia, up to Hanoi. As potentially the finale, I'm really going to cherish this one, maybe try and stay awake all night just to soak up that wonderful experience: the bladder shrinking air con, the blaring DVD of Vietnamese pop videos, the constant beeping of the horn as we high speed snake amongst traffic, most of which seems to be coming straight at us.

Right, better skip off and write my last will and testament...actually something I should have done a long time ago. Be good now and eat your greens. You know how I worry about you.

The gentle game of cricket

2007-08-08T06:37:00.000+01:00

Hue, Vietnam
This has nothing to do with where I am or what I am doing really, just that with the annual ADWorld vs Ledger Lackademicals cricket match looming (it's the 14th game of an annual event started between a bunch of misfits and malcontents and has somehow persisted) there's been a fair bit of cricket 'noise on the wire'.

On the issue of sledging (supposedly witty 'banter' between batsman and fielding team) from a cricket related website I was perusing during one of the many torrential downpours that have been sweeping across Vietnam:

One guy we work with took sledging to the next level by shouting, as he was about to bowl:"Watch out Batsmen, Im sending a Seamer striaght into your fucking eye!" Still one of the funniest things I have heard!

Did make me erupt with laughter. Then I remembered last year when Honeychurch copped an errant bouncer and got his cheek bone broken. Sorry Churchy. Still, it is funny though.

Kite surfing what fun...to watch

2007-08-04T06:01:00.000+01:00

Mui Ne, Vietnam
I really have been the most lazy of bones lately. Just kicking back here on the coast, catching a little (and I mean a little) sun, dodging the monsoon rains, reading some DH Lawrence (well, it can't all be a picnic in the park, right?) and drinking perspiring bottles of Happy Hour Beer Larue. In fact Happy 'Hours' are so long here it would be easier for bars to post the one hour a day they are effectively serving double priced cocktails and call it the Miserable Hour.

Have been tempted by this kite surfing lark that seems all the whizz 'round these parts. Well, I was tempted until I saw a novice lifted clean out of the shallows and deposited unceremoniously amongst some plastic tables at a beach side cafe some 15m away. Quite spectacular. They really must have been thirsty. I gave them 9.5. It also takes more time than I have got to learn so have stuck to a spot of boogie boarding...and drinking heavily of course.

Don't know why but I really have been off taking snaps. Think it might be the rain. Poor old Cam has sat forlornly in my bag feeling fearfully neglected I'm sure. Must try and pick it up as my wayfaring leans towards a close.

Another epic (or is that 'Eric'?) bus journey this afternoon and on through the night (grrreat) up to Hoi An where I am looking to get a bamboo slippered needle wizard to knock me up a snap pair of swimming shorts in brown & orange, natch.

At least it's lashing down with rain so I don't feel so bad about the 17hrs on a bus although obviously the downside is it makes the already treacherous driving conditions nigh on murderous. If I don't make, it's been great knowing you and I beqeath you my trusty brown John Deere cap.

Let's GO!

Picture sales double!

2007-08-03T11:08:00.000+01:00

Mui Ne, Vietnam

For the second time on this trip, I have been approached by someone who is interested in a picture of mine that they found on Flickr. Also for the second time, it's not a picture I would have imagined anyone being too interested in. The first was of an iron ore train in Western Australia.

The publication this time is South Eastern Globe, a Cambodian English language magazine that wants a picture of someone changing money into Cambodian Riel taken in Phnom Pen. Et voila...

An almost guaranteed Pulitzer nominee, I'm sure you will agree.

I have quoted my 'usual fee' (actually that's not true, I've upped it 10 quid to 65GBP...oooh, cheap at twice the price). If they bite, that would bring earnings within the past 11 months to a princely 120GBP (less PayPal fees). I feel mighty proud.

[As an aside, I wonder how the phenomenon of online hosting of pictures is affecting traditional photo libraries and agencies. Clearly, as has happened twice to me, organisations are looking for a cheap alternative from the general public rather than pay whacking royalty fees to photo agencies. Maybe I should have charged more.]

Hi Ho, Hi Ho, Hi Ho Chi Minh we go

2007-07-31T06:00:00.000+01:00

Mui Ne, Vietnam coast
So fare-thee-well Phnom Pen, Cambodia and 'Hello there!' Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam...otherwise known as Saigon. The journey south east through Cambodia and over the border to Vietnam was pretty unremarkable...so I shan't remark on it really. OK, just a little. The only way you knew you were in Vietnam as opposed to Cambodia (other than having your passport stamped at the border crossing of course - a sure fire give away) was that the road and shop signs changed. Out went the complicated (for me) Cambodian script that looks like a drawing of a city skyline. In came the monosyllabic, staccato, roman script of Vietnamese complete with an abundance of 'b's, 'v's, 'x's and 'c's. Actually, it's equally indecipherable (for me).

So my first impression of Ho Chi Minh City? Two mangy dogs stuck together in a post-coital tangle; the male unable to withdraw from the female due to an unfortunate spasm of the female's yonni (medical term). I've heard it often happens to foxes and the Jack Russell (breed of dog as opposed to ex-England wicket keeper) but I've never witnessed it. The poor muts. The male had managed to dismount but his tackle was still firmly tethered creating a sort of canine Push-Me-Pull-You (Woof-Me-Woof-You).

I have to say I have been a bit trigger shy with the camera, maybe on account of all the scare stories about determined HCMC street thieves, or maybe I simply haven't been in the shooting mood. I didn't feel this afforded the right opportunity to start snapping and spared their doggy blushes. I have done a little sketch for you though:

The doggy nature of the scene reminded me of a joke that always makes me laugh.

[Two guys in a pub having a pint, Bert & Reg. Reg has his dog with him. The dog proceeds to lick its own balls.]

Bert commenting on dog's activity: Blimey Reg, it's amazing isn't it. I wish I could do that.
Reg: Give him a biscuit Bert and he might let you.

Ho ho ho.

Other than that? Well, HCMC was fun. Busier and more vibrant that Phnom Pen with more motos if that were possible. Did the usual: Vietnam War Remnants Museum (or American War as they call it here. And why not? They weren't fighting themselves...well...actually they kinda were but it was the Yanks that were the main protagonists), National Museum, a couple of temples but to be honest I think I was a little tired of city dwelling.

I have since adjourned to the coast about four hours north of HCMC for some R&R (huh? Has it been such a stressful time of late?) - a place called Mui Ne. Pretty relaxing spot but the local industry is producing fermented fish sauce so there's an over powering & pungent odour in the air.

Which made me think of Mel Brookes for some reason. Here's a minute of fun for those with the time; a bit of 2000 Year Old Man (if my embedding works that is):

On the way here I managed to attract a bit of a limpet. The sort of companion you don't want to hang around with but can't seem to dislodge. I suppose I could have reverted to some of his own blunt language.

Let's call him James...as that was his name. Without being too 'travellor' and snobbish about it, I wonder why he bothered leaving Wimbledon in the first place. Comments include:

'This mash potato [uh huh] is fucking rubbish.'
'Can't wait to get to Oz so I don't have to eat all this local shit.' [What like the mash potato?]
'I just tell moto touts to f-u-c-k o-f-f.'
[To bunch of Vietnamese lads watching him play pool] 'Errr...do you mind pissing off?'

Etc etc etc. The odd thing was he was really into bird watching. I guess you can't stereotype a twitcher (or birder as he told me is the new slang term - cunning). He's now left so I feel a little more relaxed not trying to skulk around and be vague about where I'm going to be for dinner etc.

And as an end piece to this rather patchy post, and of no interest to anyone but Will Anderson probably, when my phone shuts down to standby, it has decided to display an image of Will Anderson raising a glass of Adnams Ale in the King's Head in Roupell Street, Waterloo. (I do have that image on my phone, it's not that spooky.) Well, I guess Will is a fine fella, it's a great boozer and a jolly decent drop, so why not?

!Frente! - who'd a thunk it

2007-07-28T06:42:00.000+01:00

Phnom Pen, Cambodia
OK, this is a bit of an 'in gag' for Brian (if you're out there Brian) but whilst back in Phnom Pen I strangely found myself in a karaoke bar. Thumbing through the menu of songs, which I have to say was vast, I chanced across a number by that Aussie power-pop, beat-combo from the early 90s - !Frente! (to be truly accurate one of those exclamation marks should be upside down but that's beyond me).

Ah, the memories of whirling round on a beer lubed dance floor at the Mean Fiddler in Harlesden (sadly no longer I understand), whilst one of the more delicate members of the party writhed in agony with a dislocated knee. That's the power of !Frente!.

Needless to say, I didn't get up and blast out Bizarre Love Triangle for fear of what carnage would be caused in the inevitably frenzied crowd.

Get the old harmonica out and cheer yourself up

2007-07-26T14:12:00.000+01:00

Siam Reap, Cambodia
OK, enough doom & gloom, misery & depression from me. I have just uploaded a ton of pictures from my Indiana Jones (meets some friends with a baby) adventures in Angkor Wat: the famous jungle shrouded, Khmer temples in the north west of Cambodia and backdrop to numerous adventure flix...well, OK, one at least with Lara Croft as the main character. In fact, did you know that Angkor Wat is the largest religious structure on earth? No nor did I. I always assumed it was Harvey's Brewery in Sussex...or am I getting confused. Anyway feast yer mince pies. Here's a taster:

And just to prove I haven't totally lost my sense of humour - pig transport Cambodian style. Poor oinkers:

The Killing Fields of Choueng Ek

2007-07-26T06:02:00.000+01:00

Phnom Pen, Cambodia
In fact whilst I'm on this less than humorous vibe, it's probably a good time to post some pictures of one of the most shocking things I have ever witnessed - The Killing Fields of Choueng Ek.

In fact if you're of an easily shocked disposition and suffer from weak thumbs at the sight of anything unpalatable...like I do...then I would be wary about scrolling down too far.

Choueng Ek was where the Khmer Rouge took political prisoners, dissidents or in fact any one deemed to be an intellectual or unwanted, even if it was simply that they wore spectacles...in fact pretty much anyone who caught their evil eye. And there they killed them. Thousands upon thousands were executed in an area the size of a large paddock. Blindfolded, they would be made to kneel by a big pit and then a member of the Khmer Rouge, quite often teenagers, would stove their heads in with a shovel or axe handle. That way they saved on bullets.

Walking around the area is a chilling experience knowing what took place there. This is made even more harrowing by the hundreds of pieces of cloth and clothing that poke out of the ground everywhere you walk - the last pieces of clothing the victims of the Khmer Rouge were wearing before they were slaughtered.

I also visited S21 Toul Sleng, a former school that became a security prison, interrogation and torture centre and ultimately death camp for thousands of Khmer Rouge victims. It's now a museum with mug shots displaying the frightened faces of the thousands that entered S21 alive but certainly didn't leave that way. Some of the torture equipment is still there with black & white photos of what carnage and pain it can cause. I didn't manage even a third of the museum without having to leave.

The depths of human cruelty and the ability to do harm in the most brutal and savage way is really an horrendous and mind boggling thing. And it continues in the world today.

The Killing Fields of Choueng Ek, the green grass and blue skies belying the attrocities that took place here. The temple in the centre is a mausoleum containing the remnants of thousands of unamed victims of the Khmer Rouge. The depressions in the ground are excavated mass graves.

Tour de Farce

2007-07-26T04:50:00.000+01:00

Phnom Pen, Cambodia
I've managed to get my annual fix (how apt) of Le Tour de France, perhaps a product of being in a former French colony. On Monday I saw the Kazakh Vinoukourov storm to victory on stage 15 whilst being held together like some rag doll after his stage five crash leaving him with more stitches in his legs and arms than a mass quilting class. Amazing that he bounced back especially given his shocker in the Pyrenees on the previous day's stage (14) when he conceded about half an hour to the main GC contenders. Everyone was saying that the man has such a big heart, such spirit and fight, a never-say-die attitude. But wasn't it a bit like last year in the Tour when Floyd Landis shot off the front for a huge and unbelievable solo ride in the Alps to line up 'victory' in Paris. He too had blown up the previous day and was seemingly out of contention. And then he was subsequently found to have been doping with testosterone?

I checked in yesterday to catch the latest tour news and, oh look, Vino has tested positive too, this time for homologous blood doping (i.e. receiving a transfusion of someone else's blood to boost red blood cells, oxygen carrying capacity and recovery). Hoof! - the Astana team is kicked off the Tour.

Whilst checking my emails today I had a quick squizz at the BBC cycling coverage. What's this? Team Cofidis are out of the Tour as one of their team members, Cristian Moreni, a former Italian National Champ, was found to have been doping with testosterone. The 'zero tolerance' of the Tour management means if one rider is found cheating, then they ask the entire team to withdraw (altho' why T-Mobile are still there after one of their team, Patrick Sinkewitz, was found to have been doping on the Tour I'm not sure...probably because he crashed out of the Tour anyway on stage five). This is especially sad news for me as it means the end of the Brit Bradley Wiggins Tour and he was a favourite for Saturday's pan flat 54km time trial. Hmmm.

And then I noticed some 'Breaking News' - Rasmussen, the current wearer of the Maillot Jaune, the leader of the race, has been sacked by his team Rabobank and is therefore off the Tour. What for? Well, it turns out that he has received a number of official warnings from cycling's governing body, the UCI (and also from the Danish cycling federation) for missing out-of-competition drug testing. More than that, he lied to his team about his whereabouts in June saying he was in Mexico when he was actually in Italy. Not proof positive (so to speak) that he's doping but why lie if you're clean? Whilst I applaud Rabobank's stand it's just so shocking and sad that two teams, one of the Tour's favourite characters and also the current holder of the Yellow Jersey have been kicked off the Tour. Or is it? Doesn't this happen every frikking year? I mean, last year's winner of the tour is still hanging in the balance pending the doping investigation into the winner, Landis, and why that's dragged on for a year I don't know.

Every year I get excited and every year I feel let down, cheated and disappointed in a sport that has such a fantastic heritage, is incredible to watch and if it had the high Corinthian ideals, could be the most admired sport in the world. The debate rages - is cycling drug scandal prone because it is the most tested sport in the world (i.e. impose the same stringent testing regimes on other sports and some nasty worms would also appear in the woodwork)? Is doping simply endemic, a product of the history of competitive cycling when it was ignored or even expected? Who cares? It needs to be clean and although these anti-doping measures are the way forward, it's a losing battle with the public's impression and also the sponsor's willingness to stump up cash for a seemingly dirty sport. The sport and the cheats within it will basically kill cycling. I for one have lost my patience with it.

If you want more check out www.cyclingnews.com

More jolly light hearted travel humour when I get out of my cycling related phunk!

Foot down

2007-07-19T07:36:00.000+01:00

Laos - Cambodia

It suddenly dawned on me that the sands of time were slipping away with only five weeks left to get down to Cambodia and travel up through Vietnam. I needed to get a wriggle on! So I put my head down and hot-footed it for Cambodia, bowling along, or more accurately bouncing vigorously along, through southern Laos. Here's a whistle-stop picto-tour and some of the conversations I had with my trusty if slightly grumpy companion Dusty Sandals.

Right, chop chop, get on the bus.
But it's got a massive crack in the windscreen.
Never mind, never mind!
[Chug chug, splutter, bouncy, bouncy.]
Is that a box of chickens?
Yeah.
And a basket of ducks?
Yeah.
And a pig in a poke?
Yeah.
Wow.

Oh look, a Che Guevara t-shirt. Nice to see some things don't change the world over.
Don't just stand there and stare...come on!
Hey, Dusty, did you see the Che Guevara mud flaps on that lorry we past?
Nah.

Ooh look, the crumbling, fading grandeur of French colonial architecture. Smashing.
Are you just gonna gawp and take pictures? For the love of Christmas, hurry up.
Keep yer hair on!

Wow, look a catholic church.
[Hech hem]
Yeah yeah, coming.

Shall we go to Don Khong in the 4000 Islands on the Mekong?
Why not? Just a couple of nights though.
Hey. Don Khong sounds a bit like Don King doesn't it.
Idiot.
Ooohhh, someone's had a sense of humour failure, haven't they Dusty?

Cool. They're big rapids aren't they?
Yeah.
Do you think you could canoe down them, like if you were really good at canoeing?
How the hell should I know?

Hey, the Cambodian border immigration office looks a bit like a garden shed doesn't it?
Yeah.

Hey, fancy an orange froggy snack, Dusty?
Not really.
Nah. Me neither.

How about some locusts?
I feel a bit queasy.

Spiders??!!
Bloody hell, I think I'm going to be sick.

Phew made it to Phnom Pen. That was quite a few days of hard travel, huh?
Yeah.
Fancy a glass of beer?
Sure, I think we deserve one.

Hey Dusty, what do you think that's all about?
Dunno.
Bit weird and slightly scary ennit?
Yeah.
Want to go in?
Not really.
Nah, me neither.

Chicken sticks and shower heads

2007-07-18T10:38:00.000+01:00

Pakse, Laos
This is what happens when a Laos bus stops briefly in a small village: the bus is attacked by a throng of crazy ladies wearing indigo Miao (who let the cat in) jackets and bamboo hats, all trying to beat you with chicken bits on a stick or these strange green shower heads. Why do I need a green shower head when I'm travelling on a bus?

Siam Arc de Triomphe

2007-07-18T09:27:00.000+01:00

Vientiane, Laos
What do you do when you are donated thousands of tonnes of cement (by the US, probably feeling guilty about all that bombing) to build a new airport? Knock up a Siamese version of the Arc de Triomphe of course!

To be honest, there are probably not enough flights going to Vientiane to justify anything other than a roughly cut field and tea trolley.

Laos Chintz - it's the bomb

2007-07-17T11:12:00.000+01:00

Laos
Thought you might like to see some of the delightful guesthouse decor I have been experiencing in Laos.

Stick this whole chintz look into a boutique hotel in NYC and you'd be charging $195 per night instead of...let me see...$3.

I liked this bureau arrangement in my guesthouse in Savvanakhet upon which I could do my paper works whilst applying mascara (should I have wished to) using the vanity mirror.

I'm not sure this is the sort of scene you want to be promoting in a bathroom. It also brings a new dimension to the word fresh in air freshener.

Laos is one of the (if not the) most heavily bombed countries in the world. Called The Other Theatre during the Vietnam war, more ordinance was dropped 'secretly' (although probably not that secretly for those living in Laos!) by the Americans in order to disrupt supply chains from north Vietnam down to south Vietnam through Laos, such as the Ho Chi Min Trail. Don't wallow in self pity at the millions of tonnes of unexploded ordinance that still litter the country - decorate your home with it! Good on ya!

Be A Hero With A Zero

2007-07-11T08:54:00.000+01:00

Savvanakhet, Laos
I've never been a very regular shaver. With my current wayfaring lifestyle I am even more sporadic but that's not to say I don't put my mind to the world of shaving occasionally. It's been cropping up lately with the final squeeze on my tube of beloved Shave.

I was remembering back to the disposable razor 'Cold War' stalemate in the 80s between Gillette and Wilkinson Sword when two bladed disposables were the cutting edge in disposable razor sophistication. Sure, the two super powers of shaving would trade minor blows with swivel heads and aloe vera lube strips, but it was pretty much a period of sensible calm.

Then Gillette forged ahead with the three bladed Mach 3. Wow! They must still talk about that heady R&D meeting with the same hallowed reverence that nuclear history buffs refer to The Manhattan Project. The atmosphere in the room must have been electric...in a wet shave type of way.

Bob: We've got to come up with something new soon or those Wilkson Sword boys are going to trump us.
Norm: Hmmm. True. Let's see. What about adding another blade to our Gillette Blue II? That would knock the stuffing out of the Wilkos!
Bob: That's genius, Norm! What shall we call it?
Norm: Hmmm, good question. How about the Gillette Blue III?
Bob: I don't think so. It's too similar to the II. This is revolutionary, it needs to be totally different.
Norm: The Gillette Green III?
Bob: Naaa. The Wilkos have the whole 'green thing' sewn up. We'd be playing into their hands and look like their bitches!
Norm: Yeah, you're right.

[Period of intense thinking...you could cut the atmosphere with a razor blade.]

Norm: Hey, what about the Mach 3?
Bob: That's IT! It says speed, it says efficiency, it says fighter jets and we love them. Brilliant!
[High Fives all round.]
Bob: Pub?
Norm: Sure.
[Idle conversation overheard as they exit the room...]
Bob: So how's that paper on the The relative merits of linear downstroke shaving over sinuous technique coming on?
Norm: Not so well.
Bob: Shame.

So, now we have the 'blade race' surging ahead. I guess it wasn't a huge leap of imagination to the four (Quattro?) or are we up to five now (The V)?...I'm losing track. How long before we have some form of post fixed in our bathrooms with thousands of parallel blades attached to it that we rub our cheeks up against?

Nope, it's getting ridiculous and all this ablutionary one-up-manship, along with my current state of not needing to shave, has got me thinking: we need to go back to basics, to the raw principles of the chap's routine and keep it simple. So ladies and gentleman, it is with great honour and pride I present to you the soon to be patented:

00000000000000000000000000000000

ZERO

The concept is devilishly simple: no need to shave - no need for blades. The Zero is lighter than a bladed model, slimmer and is easier to pack for travel. And with care, just one Zero will last you a lifetime. It's also catching a modish wave with the current trend for the retro chic beard and will be the must have accessory in any J.R.Tusting leather wash bag.

What's more the Zero works without any need for expensive shaving creams or gels, after shave lotions or moisturisers so it will save the user money. It really is as simple as that.

I thank you!
[I think I might have too much time on my hands.]

Red eyes & brown pants

2007-07-10T11:26:00.000+01:00

Savvanakhet, Laos
I had another red-eye start today and have sped down to Savvanakhet, sort of half way down the taily bit of Laos. Decided to get a wriggle on as time seems to be ebbing away a little.

To say the bus journey here was terrifying would be like saying there were a few teething problems with the new Wembley Stadium. My Laos bowels almost returned and my old friend Strangely Brown almost reappeared on the seat next to me. The road (or surface of the moon with patches of tarmac) was awash with confused, dim and rather reckless water buffalo, cattle and goats. However, the bus driver was seemingly more confused dim and definitely reckless. He seemed to think that heavy handed use of the horn was a safer tactic than more light footed & judicious use of the accelerator pedal. At one point he had to swerve to avoid a calf that had got confused by his honking horn, or just had balls the size of water melons and was playing chicken, and the bus was almost tipped onto two wheels. Now wait a minute pal, choosing to drive at breakneck speed on livestock littered 'highways' isn't clever, but if you do, then DO NOT kill me trying to swerve out of the way of a beastie. Just hit the frikking thing and live with the consequences of your own stupidity! Better still slow down, and do everyone a favour. Maybe he lived in Savvanakhet and had just been told that his house was on fire. Maybe he was just a stupid nutter with a death wish!

No pics from me (trouble with the computer) but here's a pic of what could have ended up sitting in seat 13B of the bus:

Oh, and I know my viewing public that return loyally day on day for morsels of wordy nourishment and visual titillation are desperate to know this...I think I've got to the bottom of the rice issue previously mentioned. I shan't go into it here for fear of looking like a complete rice geek, but suffice to say I envisage nights of uninterrupted sleep and perhaps gaining some colour in my hair that has gone grey with worrying about the conundrum. If you really want to know, TAG me you saddo!

[By the way, managed to add a title at LAST! Away the puns!]

Oh, and Happy Birthday Diff...

2007-07-09T09:47:00.001+01:00

...who turned...

...yesterday.

[And damn the lack of titles. Really bugging me!]
[Actually, now I can add titles again, I have gone back and edited this to give it a proper title. Sad I know but the devil's in the detail!]

100 Years of Reading in Solitude

2007-07-09T07:41:00.000+01:00

Vientiane, Laos

Things of minor note:
I have really been struggling to read 100 Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. I've been chewing my way through it for weeks now to about half way but find my mind and eyes wandering every time I attempt to read it. What makes it feel worse is that there's a wee rosette on the front marks it as one of Oprah Winfrey's Book Club choices and I would like to think I have slightly more literary staying power than the average Oprah fan. But no.

So I've pitched it. Not something I like doing or indeed do often. The decision was made after I thought I'd just have a quick 'look' at The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini that Christina had given me in Myanmar, and ended up reading it in a day.

So farewell 100 Years of Solitude. (I was going to title this post '100 Years of Reading in Solitude' by the way for those that need the crap title fix.) [Adendum - coz I can add titles again, I have, so gorge away on the crap 'straps'.]

When I say I pitched it, I swapped it at a book exchange for a book I'm finding equally challenging - The Horses Mouth by Joyce Cary.

Rice - how does it all work?
Being in the engine room of global rice production hasn't passed me by. Apart from eating it pretty much daily, I have been staring out of bus windows at square miles of green shimmering paddy fields. What I don't understand is that you see teams of people planting the stuff in little green shoot form. Where do those little green shoots grow? And why can't they just be left where they are growing rather than transplanted? Perhaps I should look on Wikipedia or ask someone. In fact just have had a look on Wikipedia and it doesn't seem to explain the transplanting element. Answers on a postcard (or Tag me).

Jeepers, this is exciting stuff, huh?

In the words of Columbo: Oh, just one last thing:
Saw this interesting collection of what I thought were Beerlao bottles, but on closer inspection...no: sulphuric acid of cause. They look worryingly similar to Beerlao bottles. I wonder if Beerlao and sulphuric acid are produced in the same factory? I can envisage classic Laurel & Hardy style mix up with 'hilarious consequences'.

The post with no name...

2007-07-08T13:34:00.000+01:00

(...fitting of the shame...and for some reason Blogger won't let me add one!) [But I can now so I have given the post the name as previously stated, just for consistency]

Luang Prabang, Laos
It's a sure fire sign that I am feeling 100% better when I decided it's time for a beer. Maybe that was what was ailing me - lack of ale. Anyway, I have been bumping into this Irish fella, Owen, on my travels (Thai border, Vientiane, Vang Vieng and now also in Luang Prabang). He is a cheeky imp and it seems that a night out with Owen registers something swinging wildly between 'Wha Hey' and 'Uh Oh' on the fun-o-meter.

I re-bumped into Owen at a bar in Luang Prabang called the Hive Bar, a buzzing (oh dear) joint for a sleepy town. Well, after catching up on what we'd been up to, it seemed we were fairly merry and it was closing time...which in Loas is a rather nanny-ish 11 o'clock. We bumbled (stop it) out of the Hive Bar and Owen was convinced he knew somewhere 'to go on to'. I was easily coerced.

So, that was how I ended up at a Laos bowling alley at midnight. It's hardly mopping the high brow of culture is it? To add to the sordid situation I think I chucked maybe eight balls down the track and not once did I trouble those ten wee fellas at the other end altho' the gutters got a thorough working out.

Here's a (the only) snap of the back of Owen's head in the bowling alley, clearly wandering off to cause more mischief. I think the quality and composition of the shot says everything you need to know about the night.

Things didn't get any better after I left the bowling alley. I had 'forgotten' the guest house I was staying in had a midnight curfew. I mean, why not? Bars all closed at 11pm so what could anyone in their right mind do after midnight...right? Apart from go bowling...but that would be ridiculous. So at 3am I was presented with not only a tightly shut guest house but also a dangerously spiky and firmly closed gate. I decided I'd scale the gate and proceeded to do so. It didn't go well. Climbing hazardous obstacles in flip flops and when perhaps a little bit dulled in the senses isn't clever or indeed easy. I got stuck. One leg was in front over the railings, one was precariously holding me up and I couldn't seem to move from this yoga-esque position. Fortunately my attempts to be 'quiet' had clearly been far from that and a young lad working for the guest house opened the main door and sleepily rubbed his eyes, clearly bemused by the vision in front of him. Thankfully he helped me down and I have to say if he didn't save my life, he certainly saved the precious runner up in the chart of 'Things You Mustn't Lose'. Fortunately he saw the funny side of it and we had a giggle about it the next morning.

Here are some snaps of the less seedy side of Luang Prabang:

Luang Pra-bangers

2007-07-06T12:25:00.000+01:00

Luang Prabang, northern Laos
I didn't want to leave you in dreadful suspense and nor did I want the last picture I posted here to be of a loo, so you'll be glad to know that I have regained complete control of...well, me I guess. Back to feeling tippety top, in fine fettle and firing on all two cylinders once again. Many thanks for all the messages of sympathy and get well notes, bottles of Lucozade and bunches of grapes that came flooding in. I was truly underwhelmed! 'Aaannnxxx.

So I have wove/wended/weven (whatever) my way to Luang Prabang further north in Laos and a more delightful spot I couldn't imagine outside of Bromsgrove. It's a World Heritage listed 'city' (yeah, market town size) dozing on the banks of the Mekong River. All sleepy, green and picturesque with intriguing alley ways, vibrant markets and even a breeze that doesn't feel like you've just opened an oven door. Could it get any better? Actually, yes it could, and it does. Luang Prabang is famous for its sausages and having sampled them, deservedly so. Never thought I'd be in Laos eating medal winning bangers and having a genuine ethnic meal, but there you go. Right, it's that time once again to make a spirited attempt to annihilate LBP's sausage stock. Let's GO!

Laos Bowels

2007-07-02T07:43:00.000+01:00

Vang Vieng, Laos
Made it to Laos after a rather mad cap (if not down right dangerous) over night bus journey from Bangkok. The capital, Vientiane, has to be in the medal list as the world's smallest capital 'city'. It's somewhere around the size of Tunbridge Wells but with an 'international' airport or more precisely a rough strip of tarmac with cow grazing facilities. The old French colonial influence is prevalent in the architecture (including a Siam style Arc de Triumphe), food and coffee (as in proper coffee, not the ubiquitous Nescafe). Odd when getting on a bus and instead of being offered various types of rice (steamed, sticky, coconut etc), assorted bits of chicken and diced fruit from the itinerant vendors, you get offered a beautiful pate filled baguette. Nice one Frenchies!

From Vientiane it was an arse numbing 4.5hr bus ride (covering 170km) to Vang Vieng. I got off covered in what looked like fake tan from the red dust and feeling like I'd gone 10 rounds with Joe Bugner (from Pavenham, Bedfordshire don't you know). VV is a town...well, village built around the 'travellor' industry and has a hundred restaurants and bars serving up banana pancakes and 'happy' shakes (yeah THAT type of happy). Some play episodes of Friends on loop and you're more likely to hear The Streets playing than any Laos style music. Hmmm. It reminds me of Pai, northern Thailand, which isn't helping as I keep having flash backs to the lost passport incident.

There are more westerns here than I've seen in along time, all joining in the bucket of booze fun and riding tractor inner tubes down the Nam Song river. It's probably not a place I'd stick around in for too long not possessing a muscle vest, aviator shades and retro chic beard but I am stuck rather.

I was beginning to think that I might get away without the curse of the traveller on this trip - the squits. After all I have successfully negotiated the Mexican scabby dog taco, the greasy late night burger from New Zealand hole-in-the-wall joints and Thai curry of 'spank my arse and call me Susan' strength. But no. I've been struck down. Don't feel bad or ill at all, in fact haven't lost my appetite (heaven forbid...altho' I should stick to toast and boiled eggs apparently), just that I can't be too far from the dunny just now and the idea of a six hour bruising bus journey north to Luang Prabang isn't really 'doing it' for me.

So this is what Vang Vieng looks like:

And this is what I have mostly seen:

Got to dash. You can guess why.

Advertising Myanmar style

2007-07-01T07:52:00.000+01:00

Kha Tha, Myanmar, June 07

What a mighty horn!

Burmese Days 2

2007-06-29T10:35:00.000+01:00

Myanmar, June 07
Well, I haven't really given you a wordy flavour thus far as to what Myanmar was really like (and you're probably quite thankful for it). To rectify that here's some prose. I cribbed it from an email I sent (with minor edits) so sorry if some references don't make too much sense.

Oh and I have spent a frikking age loading up a ton more pics on my Flickr photo site so if you want to feast your peepers some more...nothing's stopping ya!

Mandalay 5am, heading for an Irrawaddy Adventure - I popped outside to meet Mr Hat the trishaw man. Sure enough, there he was, fettling with ropes and specs. I strolled up and presented myself in the formal manner that befits such an august meeting. He simply stared at me and rubbed his eyes in amazement and blinked and gawped slack jawed (and other sure fire signs he had no idea who the devil I was). I explained I was his fare to the boat station. He takes a step back and looks long and hard and shakes his head. 'No really, I am!' Eventually he stammers that he does not believe I am the same person from the previous night. OK, so no-one looks their best in the morning, certainly not 5am, but had I really become Mr Hyde from Dr Jekyll? Amazing how being accompanied by a beautiful woman can get 'you' recognised more easily...hmmm. I guess we honkies all look the same in the dim light of early morning and without specs. He did say he & his wife would like me to stay with them on my return, which was very sweet.

Made the ferry fine and, after being shown a spot on the mid-deck to lay my mat (on the raised wooden area reserved for monks, military and mad-men), we commenced the journey up river. To say I was a novelty, source of intrigue and amusement to my fellow passengers would be like saying 'the bearded woman received some acknowledgement and minor comments on the terraces of Millwall Football Club'. Naturally I was the only foreigner on the boat.

I decided to double check the journey time with the first mate and the skipper and got two contrary answers so simply gave up on establishing a timetable and resigned to the fact that I would arrive when I arrived in Kha Tha and no sooner nor later.

So, up river we chugged at a ground speed somewhere around a slow jog (although water speed was faster as it was fairly gushing past). The Irrawaddy fanned out ahead of us in the morning light like a broad sheet of beaten bronze. By the way, did you know that Mandalay has a big Ferris wheel akin to the London Eye (but smaller...and probably from the early 60s)? No? Well it does, I saw it. Shame I didn't know before as a spin would have been capital fun!

Regards food, there was a wee snack shack made from tomato crates vending all sorts of fine fayre and every time we stopped hordes of snack sellers would swarm the deck like gastronomic pirates, brandishing samosas, bags of rice, curries, fruit, water and live pigs. In fact I had THE BEST tomato salad (with a hint of Som Tum Thai salad about it) from the boat tuck shop. Did think at the time that I was taking a risk and patted that packet of Immodium but it was delicious and without any unpleasant after effects. Grated papaya, cabbage, red and green tomato, onion, chili, peanuts, a little oil and some fish sauce I think. Marvellous.

The scenery and small fishing vessels rolled lazily by and the day passed with reading, taking pics, napping and being stared and giggled at (as well as offered food, which was very sweet).

After a pretty good nights sleep (8:30pm-5am) I was up again for day two of ???. I had noticed that the Burmese all seemed to wash from a big drum of river water at the back, maybe three times a day, and change their clothes. Naturally I had had a quick dab with a wet-wipe and was still attired in the same threads I had embarked in. It was at this point an old lady told me in forceful terms and gestures that I should wash. Partially out of embarrassment and also coz I could be on the boat for another 36hrs, I did as bid and joined in the river water wash down.

Docking at ports along the way was quite something. Along with the rush of sales-people (kids mainly) we took on board hundreds (more) sacks of rice, chickens in baskets (not the pub grub kind), boxes of veg, barrels of beer, bamboo poles etc etc until I thought the boat would sink under the load.

As it was, we landed at Kha Tha on the Sunday afternoon around five so all predictions had been awry. I was rather glad altho' the boat trip had been great. I think it was the perfect time, long enough to be an epic, short enough not to be overt endurance. Checked into the Irrawaddy Guest House over looking the 'dock' and went off for an explore.

Kha Tha is a great wee town. Sort of the equivalent of a UK market town off the beaten path but instead of the Yangon/Mandalay 60s time warp, this was definitely more like 1920s. After a summary reccy I found a great barbecue joint under a massive cloaking banyan tree that served up skewers of flattened pork, quails eggs and okra with chili dipping sauce for 200kyat (8p) a stick and glasses of beer for 500kyat (20p). Were it a gastro pub in Islington goodness only knows what flowery prose would describe the fayre and what eye wincing prices would accompany them.

The old British Club, Kha Tha as featured in George Orwell's Burmese Days

George Orwell's old house, Kha Tha, Myanmar

Decided to make headway with my extra day and leave for Mandalay on Monday. Checked out the station in Kha Tha but there was one train a day to Naba at midnight. Did mean I got my bus ride as well as train, so all boxes ticked. Met up with a Burmese fellow with fascinating dentistry (as all seem to) who showed me the old British Club (now agric co-op) and working tennis court from Burmese Days and also George Orwell's old house. Also had a good chat with the guest house proprietor along the dissident lines (initiated by him).

And then to Naba on the bus over a very bouncy dirt road, our way blocked at one point by a family of elephants (maybe six) and their drivers. Naba train station was awash with people most of whom I learnt later were there to sell snacks, curry, rice, drinks and washing water to the train travellers when the 'express' pulled in. Buying the ticket was an exercise in Myanmar bureaucracy. The train fare was US$18 for 1st class. I only had a 20 dollar bill (or a five). This caused major waves and half of the people crowded into the ticket office to witness the biggest show to hit Naba since Mr Aung Tan's goose escaped and caused a cart jam on the main street. The station master couldn't give me US$2 change and for some reason couldn't give me change in Kayt, but what he could do was mark the ticket as costing US$20. He kept saying 'Is that OK?' I was going to embark on explaining that when one has no other option, then the concept of OK is actually rather notional...but thought better of it.

The train pulled in just an hour and a half late after I had endured the unwanted attentions of the village drunk for most of that time. Found my seat and amidst the war cries of peanut sellers and rice vendors we set off. Well, if I thought that the bus was bouncy, it seemed like travelling on buttered glass compared to the rocking, rolling, bumping and bouncing of the train. How it stayed on the rails I don't know. At times I was bouncing clean out of my seat. Things not helped by the fact the seat back wasn't really fixed so acted as some form of trampoline. This was going to be a long 12hrs 'or so'. And it was. I did manage to fall asleep somehow for a couple of hours and actually woke up as we pulled into Mandalay station at 6am, so pretty much on time. I felt rather shell shocked.

Headed to the travel office with a young trishaw fella but it wasn't open til 9am so took tea and roti (pala?) with him and killed time. At the travel office they simply made a couple of calls and then said just rock up at the airport for 3pm and I'd be on the flight to Yangon that afternoon. Once again, the 'Somehow We Get You There Motto' applied. Enough time to grab a shower at the Royal Guest House and see some of the markets (buy a clean shirt!) and sample Nylon Ice Cream Parlour.

Then to the airport in a shared taxi where I got chatting with this really nice guy from Beijing who invited me to stay with him and his parents should I ever make it and we'd 'do Beijing' on bike. Great. Mandalay airport was like the aftermath of Day of the Triffids. Flight was the long haul via Heho & Bagan Nyaung so into Yangon c.7pm. Too shattered other than to snatch a bite, call Andrew (who Ros thinks bears a similarity to me which I think is doing him a diservice) and then crash out.

My last day in Yangon was pretty good. Got up early (product of 9:30 bedtime previous night) & hit the flower market to get...errr...some flowers for Andrew & Kelly whom I was to have dinner with that night. In my moochings also picked up a large parasol, a fair sized laquerware bowl and an oval tray without thinking about how I'm going to get them home. The things a boy gets up to with spare time and Kyat to kill. Hey ho as they say in the Inle Lake area.

Kelly and Andrew (my supposed doppelganger)

Watched the sunset from the roof of the guest house with a cold beer and then headed off to A&K's for dinner where I also met a chap Nikolai who was doing Dan's old job in Southern Sudan (I think) before heading to Cambodia with his girlfriend. He was doing some consultancy in Myanmar. Anyhow, had a fun old night and drank a little too much of course, especially with fine wine on offer! Made the 5:30am reveille a touch hard. And so ended my Burmese Days.

Off for a Laos-y time

2007-06-27T07:19:00.000+01:00

Bangkok, Thailand
Hardly stuck up a post of worth regards Myanmar and it's time to hit the trail once again for what is likely to be the penultimate leg of my trip: overland around Laos, Vietnam and Cambodia. It's all very much a campaign under the banner 'Failing to plan is planning an adventure.' We'll see.

Time for some thank yous. Have to say a massive, massive thanks to Ros, Dan (and Ruby) who have acted as base camp for all my SE Asian exploration. Just totted up and I have been resident at their house here in Bangkok four times over the past two months. Having just spent an hour and a half banging my head against a wall in the United Airlines office here in Bangkok trying to organise my return flights, it seems I'm going to be passing through BKK once again around the 14th Aug. That really will be the last time...promise. Here's a snap of family ColliRussell at Dolphin Bay Resort t'other weekend. It's a shame Ruby has a bent cotton bud stuck in her ear.

And news hot off the press - I can confirm that I shall be back in Blighty from the week starting 20th Aug! There is after all a certain cricket match to play in, right!

Here are some more snaps of Myanmar for those too lazy to go and look at my Flickr site! I best boost as I have a bus to catch!

Burmese Days 1

2007-06-25T03:34:00.000+01:00

Yangon, Myanmar, 6-9 June 07
Yangon is in a time warp stuck somewhere in the late 50s or early 60s. It's very green and lowrise. Cars are generally in excess of 20 years old on account of astronomical government tax on new cars and understandably mostly held together by string and sealing wax. Buses look like the odd jalopy that used to carry us to the boat house when I was at school. (Never did understand why in the mid-1980s the school bought a prop from a Miss Marple film.) The thing that stands out, quite literally from wherever you are in the city, is the Shewdagon Paya - a h-u-u-u-g-e pagoda in the bling-est gold.

Trust me, it's massive. Pagodas (a.k.a. payas or stupas) feature in mind boggling numbers throughout Myanmar.

Here's something that tickled me: a list of things from my hotel room that were 'for sale' (in other words how much you'd get charged in US$ if they went missing from the room). What on earth is a Happy Coat? I looked through my room and there were few items that could be described as 'happy' and even fewer that were coat like.

Bagan, Myanmar, 10-13 June 07
Bagan is on a broad floodplain of the Irrawaddy River and is famed for its incredible number (and size) of pagodas that are scattered across the plain. I on the other hand was more amazed by the size of this snail!

OK, OK, joking. Here are some snaps:

More, as ever, laters...