An ordinary life in an extra-ordinary place
With the son away, I was feeling rather down yesterday morning. My condition was not helped following a review of my finances. More eating out than usual, plus a few trips, plus a recent TV purchase on credit; meant that the Spike banking system was feeling a little Greek. Some restrictions on spending will be required over the next couple of months, which may also be a challenge because I had promised she who must be obeyed a “just the two of us” holiday.
Suitably crestfallen, I was wandering around Central while she who must be obeyed attended to some banking, and I came across something which is very hard to find. The only one in Pattaya and just arrived that very morning apparently. I had a play with it and it was beautiful. But I didn’t need it and couldn’t afford it; and was proud of my willpower when I walked out of the shop empty handed.
In the car and heading for the exit, I told she who must be obeyed about it.
That’s the gorgeous thing that’s in short supply isn’t it? she said
Indeed, I answered; amazed that she remembered previous Spike ramblings.
It’s an instant classic.
It is.
You should get it.
I can’t afford it and don’t need it.
You should still get it.
So we re-parked the car and I bought it. It’s all her fault.
If you have no idea what I am on about, click here.
The Son and his girlfriend arrived in Thailand in February. They returned to the UK yesterday, after four months of flitting around the region and chilling out in Pattaya. When they were away, we had the company of she who must be obeyed’s sister.
So now the condo seems strangely quiet, with just us and the cats. It’s been great to have company, and I do wish that I lived closer to The Son so we could see each other more often; but that’s life and I will just have to look forward to the next time we can meet up.
Now I have to get back to a list of outstanding tasks which I have conveniently ignored while we had visitors. Some photo books to prepare, some lights to shoot, more condo decoration, and a return to windsurfing and radio controlled car racing on a more regular basis. Oh, and some outstanding games that need attention.
On the plus side, I can return to my normal dress code in the condo, T-shirt and underpants. Not an acceptable sight for visitors, and probably not an acceptable sight to she who must be obeyed; but she married me so she will have to put up with it. Every cloud has a silver lining.
The considerable disappointment that accompanied the failure of the end of days event has not been explained to Pattaya baht bus drivers, who continue to advertise judgement day. I do wonder who paid for this nonsense….
True. Allegedly.
In the lunatic world of UK law, there is apparently a thing called a “super-injunction”. This allows anyone with enough cash to stop media publication of things that they did which they wish to keep secret.
Such a person was Ryan Giggs, who I understand is a footballer. Presumably without the knowledge of his wife, he embarked upon a seven month affair with Imogen Thomas who appeared briefly in a reality show and is therefore “famous”.
When details of his infidelity became known, Giggs paid large sums of cash for a super-injunction to stifle the media. This worked for a while, until someone on Twitter broke the silence:
Personally, I couldn’t care less what a footballer does to a reality star (unless there is a video available); but I don’t like the idea of a judge in the UK slapping a global ban on reporting of such news just because the footballer has the cash to pay for it. I also don’t like the fact that Mr. Giggs has decided to try and sue Twitter for breaking the injunction.
So I’m breaking the injunction too. Come sue me Giggs.
Excuse me, got to cut this short; there’s a knock at the door……
The visit of The Son and his girlfriend is drawing to a close. Not realising that they will be presented with a bill for accommodation upon departure, they kindly offer to take us for the best meal in Pattaya; the Sunday buffet at Mantra.
If you haven’t experienced this, you should. But be warned that there is a dress code; the compulsory aspect of which is “must bring a fat wallet”. An even fatter wallet is required if you want to embark on the free-flow wine experience, which we did. A choice of around fifteen wines; drink as much of each as you can manage. The dessert wine is particularly good and I can remember ordering a third glass before slipping briefly into unconsciousness.
Many, many choices of good food. Personally, I concentrated on eating my own, ever increasing, bodyweight in French oysters, with a side plate of Alaskan King Crab as a diversion. She who must be obeyed decided to sample all the cheeses, and assorted plates of delicacies made the one-way trip to our table.
Best of all is the dessert area. It’s so good that we always try and sit in there; thus reducing the time taken to load chocolate fountain enhanced strawberries onto the largest plates we can find.
Three hours of good food and wine encourages conversations that might not normally take place……..
I make no secret that I am proud to have The Son as my son. World-class software engineer, excellent photographer, and most importantly a good person with a wicked sense of humour. Really couldn’t ask for better. But as the wine flowed into the fourth, or maybe fifth glass, he let slip a story which dramatically altered my view of him.
When The Son was a teenager, I lived and worked in Sarawak on the island of Borneo. Interesting place; but it did not offer much in the way of secondary schools. So The Son was packed off to the UK for a life of misery in a boarding school. My memories of his secondary education were that he performed well enough academically and conformed to the foolish restrictions of boarding school life. Apparently not so.
Half way through a particularly cheeky Chilean Chardonnay, he admitted that he had in fact been suspended from school for a week. As they could hardly pack him off to Borneo, he was confined to “Matron’s quarters” (which sounds quite promising). His crime? He hacked into the school’s administrative computer records and, although he didn’t change anything, he saw a lot more than he was meant to.
How cool is that? As we staggered out of Mantra en route to a little snooze, my respect for The Son increased several points. Just waiting for him to admit he was the man who brought down Sony.
It appears I am still here; rather than in heaven. So, instead of rapture for life everlasting, I am stuck in Pattaya for an indeterminate period. Sucks to be me. Anyone want to buy a bible?
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