An ordinary life in an extra-ordinary place
Archive for February, 2009
Yet another day at Bira and first I must bore you with a couple of bike shots.
Of course if you read on you will get to the babe and burnout bit. More >
When I woke up in hospital on the 22nd October with my scalp hanging off my head and my back broken, the first thing I asked was that they contact she who must be obeyed, because she would be worrying about me. The second thing I asked was when would I be able to windsurf again, because I was worrying about how long I would be off the water. About 3-4 months, was the answer, which at the time seemed like an age.
But today is about three and half months since I lay on the hospital slab and, for the first time since then, my body had a chat with me and said it felt it might be OK if I tried windsurfing again. So I did.
My board of choice was a Serenity, not the easiest beast to sail at more than 4 metres in length, not very wide, and a tendency to have do what it pleases, rather than what you want it to do. But it does whizz along even in light winds, and with a bit of a hand from Craig to get the board and rig into the water, I was up and away.
Here’s photo of me on the Serenity taken earlier. About two years earlier.
Twenty minutes later I was finished. A slightly aching back and general exhaustion highlighting that my 119 day absence from sailing, together with fallout from my accident, leaves me with much to do to regain my previous fitness. But I sailed! And it felt wonderful to be skimming over the water again. l can again say, if only to myself because nobody else gives a shit, I am a windsurfer!
The day starts well enough; I wake up late and go for the Sunday ritual coffee with she who must be obeyed. Sadly she is carrying a grocery shopping list, so after the coffee I am dragged round a supermarket, never my favourite pastime.
After lunch, she decides she is going to have her hair straightened, a three hour operation, so I settle down to start processing the 1,500 polo photos I have taken over the past three days. Half are junked, ninety percent of the rest are average, but there are a few I am pleased to have taken.
Not a sport for the faint hearted. The injury tally for the three days was one suspected fractured wrist and two broken heads, plus the usual bumps and bruises. And this was just a friendly match…
If you are to capture special moments in action photography, you obviously have to be in the right place at the right time, and the finger has to depress the shutter when the special moment is happening, and you need a bit of luck.
And I had some luck to capture a moment at polo today when a rather unorthodox manoeuvre was used to distract a player; sticking him in the nose with a mallet. Click on the photo to see the larger version and you can see his nose bending!
Polo is a great sport to photograph, provided the horses come with (camera) shooting distance, and do something interesting while they are in the vicinity, and do not proceed to trample you as an extension of doing something interesting. During the seven minute duration of a chukka, it is entirely possible that nothing resembling action will happen anywhere near where you are standing.
But, when it all comes together, there are some interesting action shots to be had. Not sure if these actually qualify as interesting, but they are the first acceptable shots I have found from those taken today.
Rider, surprised by a pile of poo, loses his grip on his mallet:
It’s time for the Polo Escape Ladies Competition. Problem is, there are not enough polo playing ladies to make up the three teams required. This is resolved by co-opting some Argentinian gauchos and providing them with balloons.
Marginally less convincing than a Walking Street ladyboy, but much better at riding.
She who must be obeyed has a circle of friends who seem to delight in circulating gory photographs, which she then sends on to me, although I keep telling her I don’t want to see them. Today I got these:
Disgusting eh? But don’t worry, apparently it’s all made out of bread! It does still make you wonder about what is going on the brain of the Thai baker who makes and sells these products, and the world view of those who buy them. Amaze your friends, break the ice at parties!
Still, it does give the opportunity for an intriguing caption.
For reasons that need not trouble you, I was foraging amongst some old photos today, and was reminded of the trip we took to the Golden Triangle nearly a year ago. Apart from a some touristy stuff, the main reason was to photograph elephant polo, a game as silly as it sounds. The objective of the competition appeared to be to drink as much as possible and then charge around a field on an elephant. There was a score, but it appeared to be immaterial.
And a candidate for “worst job in the world”; running round the field and scooping up all the elephant shit. Even Billy’s job ain’t that bad.
There are two options for losing weight:
1. Cut off a limb
2. Burn more calories than you consume.
Given that option 1 is considered not viable by most people, we are left with option 2. Simply put, eat less and exercise more and the weight will come down. But for many people that is far too difficult. We like to eat, we hate to exercise, we get fatter. Well, not me obviously; but other people. She who must be obeyed for example. She has grown horizontally considerably since we first met and she keeps planning to do something about it. This usually involves eating the same amount, and doing the same amount of exercise (i.e. none), but augmented with things which are said to make a difference. Fibre filled pills, protein drinks, gym membership (she was very surprised to find that the latter made no difference at all if you don’t actually go to the gym and do stuff).
None of these amazing treatments made any difference, so tonight she embarked on yet another. Or rather she didn’t; because she said if I wrote about it in my blog she would wreak great vengeance upon me. So it wasn’t her, it was someone else who we saw in the supermarket buying pots of baby food which they intend eating instead of normal food. This person said they were going to try it for a week, but when they saw the disgusting flavours and tiny pots, they only bought two of them; one of which may be sampled and the other will just disappear, perhaps donated to a passing baby.
So where did this diet idea come from? I asked (of the stranger in the supermarket you understand).
It was in a magazine, Jennifer Aniston did it.
Ah, and did she also happen to exercise during this fantastic diet plan?
Oh yes.
Probably for several hours with a personal trainer?
Probably.
Maybe if you did that, you wouldn’t need to eat baby food?
For that I got a withering look and a bill for 73 bahts worth of mushed prune and apple.
Sorry I have not updated for a few days, I have been busy. For example, Saturday:
0720 – Woke ten minutes before the alarm and just lay there enjoying the moment. I am reliably informed by she who must be obeyed that I am a drooling snoring mess when I am asleep, not an attractive sight at all. She on the other hand, looks lovely in the early morning light. Hard to believe that in ten minutes she will be awake and barking orders. The cats are asleep at the end of the bed, a couple of birds are singing on the balcony, and on rough sea day I can hear the waves crashing on the beach. It is at these times that I remind myself that I am a lucky man and that life could be worse in so many ways.
0730- It gets worse in some ways when she who must be obeyed’s phone shatters the morning idyll by blasting out the first few bars of the inappropriately chosen “Linger”. We can’t linger because one of us (i.e. me) has to get out of bed to turn it off; and then it is off to the toilet for a few games of Backgammon on the phone while nature takes its course (which it often doesn’t because I become too absorbed in my latest battle to win a game against a program on a tiny computer). Then shower and a quick muesli and yoghurt before I take she who must be obeyed to work; because her car is still in the Honda garage awaiting insurance inspection.
0930 – Back from wife delivery services and there is time for a quick coffee before I spend half an hour or so on mandated stretching exercises. Get more than usual attention from the cats, probably because I have forgotten to feed them this morning.
1000 – Off to the gym for an hour of torture. I have decided that the bicycling thing at the beginning is pointless other than to warm me up a little, so that is down from 20 to 10 minutes. Even so, going round the weight machines twice takes me the best part of an hour; and I still can’t look at myself in a mirror.
1115 – Home. Shower. Ignore hungry cats
1130 – Got to pick up she who must be obeyed from work, take her for lunch, and then off to Honda where she tries to persuade the insurance man that something black and sinister rose from the road and attacked her radiator. We await the decision, I remain skeptical.
1300 – Call from Bill who needs table moving from one condo to another. Happy to oblige as this enables me to play being a trucker for the first time. Amazingly, everything that is loaded arrives safely. Feel fleetingly more macho.
1400 – On to the windsurfing club and out on a SUP for an hour of paddling. Not sure if this is wise in regards to the back, but it is great to be back out on the water again.
1600 – Back home and do some more stretching and take a shower. Ignore starving cats and check comments on blog. Write witty repostes.
1800 – Off to see my physio for the second time. I am beginning to understand her approach. When she says “no pain, no gain”, you know it is about to hurt. When she says “Sorry Khun Spike”, for no apparent reason, the reason becomes apparent about a second later and you scream. But she is definitely loosening me up, so I will persevere. She who must be obeyed turns up in her re-radiatored car and has a session also. Afterwards we need food and finally arrive home, battered but fed, around 2100.
2130 More stretching
2230 Drop into bed completely knackered. Barely alive cats plead for nourishment. Get up, feed cats (and fish, whose sole avenue of complaint is to die), then sleep soundly, no doubt accompanied by much drool and snoring.
Retirement, nobody said it was going to be easy.
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