August 22, 2007

This is officially my last ever day as a Tea Taster……

Crikey Moses.

Definitely no turning back now.

Spo | August 22, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Holland | Daily Life - Malawi | Personal

August 9, 2007

Freshly Ground at the Paradiso….

At the Paradiso in Amsterdam Funky new phenomenon from South Africa, Freshly Ground (click) cooked up something very special for a dutch crowd that was hard to impress, but very much won over by the end.

The Paradiso isn’t huge but it’s big enough for about 800-1000 or so I think if they had the balcony area open up top - early doors it was about half full on the floor which swelled to 3/4 once they got going - dutch crowds are hard work to impress - don’t let themselves go too much - even at the Chemical brothers when that kind of behaviour is more or less mandatory - Here though Freshly Ground definitely won them over - huge applause and reaction at the end for the encore - lots of people dancing - band seemed like they were not expecting it to be that big either, they genuinely loved that people knew the words and the songs despite the fact they’re still not that well known in this part of the world.

Zolani’s amazing voice filled the room and the whole bands love of performing and the music really came across - they’re big personalties and so talented live - so many instruments and the dance sequences got that OK!GO! off the cuff vibe to them - so much energy - the bass player looks like an overwieght zany surfer dude but he really went for it - best part was during “Do-Be-Do” (video below) when the keyboard baldy guy comes out and dances with the two girls - really went for it with the right amount of reality (ie: you could see it’s not really reheraresed to perfection but they know where each others going).

They played “Mowbray Kap” and gave a big shout out for Malawi - that was the biggest tune of the night actually in terms of response - “Do-Be-Do” was class as well - and some of the new stuff sounds excellent if not quite up to how much I love Nomvula - but then it’s all about repeat listening and ascociations you have with the music I think - once the new album is out in Sep we’ll get it for the travel round UKand lake of stars and probably fall in love with it as much.

I spoke to them afterwards - and told one of the two girls about Gecko and how they had to come to malawi and play lake of stars - she gave me the details of her management who we would have to contact and book through - so hopefully if we get freindly with the lake of stars people this coming October we can put them in touch for next year - also could maybe get them at the French Cultural Centre - Think Gecko may be a stretch too far though!!!! would be so good if we could.... best way to see them would be in Africa with the sun shining and dancing all around.

Below is their vid for their biggest smash so far and a real floor filler - “Do-Be-Do”.

They do deserve to be huge - don’t think anyone could be disappointed if they bought “Nomvula” - you seriously check them out.

Spo | August 9, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Holland | Film / TV / Music

August 7, 2007

Absinthe makes the heart grow wronger……

Never have I been so sick, so much in such a short space of time - Absinthe is now a mortal foe far more feared than any other potent alcoholic shot of death - I thought the Flaming Lamborghini was bad (rum/tequila/sambuca/amarula - on fire and via a straw in all of 4 seconds) but Absinthe takes the full packet of biscuits now - and it tastes as bad as it is potent as well - an asinine acidic punch to the throat - it’s said to be 82% proof and hallucinogenic - I was seeing stars.

After the second shot no one from the group of five partaking can remember anything else from the evening - collective memory loss all round - only Anna could piece together events - wasted though she was it was still her job to try and look after me - I was in a mess you see - no food all day unless you count a piece of bread for a flyby brekkie and a few calamari rings in the bar - I arrived late thanks to Eurostar and tried to make up for lost drinking time in the only way I know how - order doubles and drink them quickly.

Absinthe arrived soon after - a bravado drink if ever there was one - from reading up on it you’re supposed to dilute with water or mix with sugar - something to do with flames etc - that makes it more palatable - it’s not best to just down the hatch - which is what we did.

Faces of Anguished horror abounded - safe to say nobody was really expecting the evil now within us - a cooling off period was padded out with Tequila, Sambuca and everyone’s usual’s like my double JD’s and coke - eventually some Moonbat bought another round of Absinthe though - the same faces gathered - certainly a little more reluctantly than last time - glasses chinked - down in one.

Not quite

This time I coughed as it went down - and we all know what happens when you cough while drinking - it comes back out through your nose - that was a deep burn I tell you - Nasal passages awash with Absinthe - the horror - the burn - I’d not felt this bad since the Indonesian wasabi incident when I found out that the big glob of green stuff I’d just wolfed was not some form of strange freaky butter.

To make matters worse the absinthe runs out of my nose and back into my mouth - like doing the same shot twice in all of a few seconds - not good.

When things like that happen to you, the best thing to do is take a minute and compose yourself and then ease off the gas and get some water inside you before things go too far into the world of the wrong - too late - the body would normally have begun to take automatic precautions against further damage by implementing the vomit programme - expel the evil - but the body was still reeling from the whole absinthe out the nose incident and was not sure what the fuck had just happened - this allowed the moonbat in me to take over and pour more fuel on the fire in the form of the usual alcoholic riders of the blackout apocalypse - Sambuca, Tequila and Vodka - when the body got its bearings back, the effect was instantaneous - STOP! It’s Chin Loss Time!

One minute you’re having a conversation - well, attempting one anyway - and the next you’ve got a mouth full of sick - bit shoots out the corner of your mouth - but for the most part you’re about as golden as you can get in such a situation - exit stage right and get your monkey ass to a porcelin god - start praying.

Luckily the bar staff didn’t see - I have a snapshot recollection of this event - couple of images - nothing more - Anna was the witness - I didn’t feel proud as she regaled the tale - but she assured me there was worse to come.

There was.

Once the cacophony of gibbons making up our group had been removed from the bar, we attempted taxi hailing and after a lot of lucking out managed to persuade one foolish individual that we were worth a shot at the title - must of been a slow night and he needed to up the takings, so ended up risking it.

Bad move.

Apparently I opened the door of the taxi as it slowed - hurled like a champion - and then followed the vomit right out the cab door - landed in my own sick - bust my knee and rolled into the path of oncoming traffic.

Saved from death I was, but taxi driver had seen enough and a compromise of dropping us in clapham at Georges was reached instead.

I imagine it was probably this point at which I was nothing more than a liability to my friends and in particular Anna, whose house in Kingston we were heading back to at the time - there’s a few times I can pick out during all the time I’ve known her (19 years) where she would probably of been considering the continuation of our friendship - one is when I was so far gone on Tequila that I upchucked over her net curtains in Bournemouth before trying to bite people who tried to assist me - another is when I lost track of time having a hangover breakfast with Coops up in Edinburgh and, because Anna is a true friend and didn’t want to leave without me, consequently made us all miss our flight back to London which was then followed by an Easyjet classic 15 hour delay - 15 hours - you can’t ever say sorry enough for that - there’s nothing you can do or say that’s going to alter the fact that the reason everyone is sitting in a departure lounge for 15 hours is the fact you, and you alone, are a massive idiot of galactic proportions.

I think this particular Absinthe Friday may now be added to the list.

Especially when they managed to get me into the house and I threw up all over Georges floor - the deluge of which Anna stemmed with one G’s saucepans.

I was put to bed - fell out of bed - made new bed out of Dave Jenkins washing on the floor - people tried to put me back in the bed - I tried to bite them - eventually I was overpowered and passed out.

Next morning I awoke to find Bear lying next to me in a bed and room I did not recognise - I quickly realised that I had no idea about how I had got here or what had happened from around midnight onwards - nor whose T-shirt it was I was now wearing.

Minds were more or less blank when it came to fellow Absinners Bear, G and Lockey (who had thought his car had been stolen so drunkenly argued with police until they established it had in fact been towed - was going to cost him 260 quid - and was now in Milwall) - I had no idea what happened to Barnes whose birthday it was - he must of been lost in the ether.

Absintheless Anna explained what had gone on - none of it good basically.

My knee was in the first stages of swelling to balloon proportions and my head felt like brass band playing mice on amphetamines had infiltrated my brain - and I smelled pretty bad - good night then.

Perhaps Anna decided it’s too late to change the friends you have for life and so therefore is still speaking to me.

Absinthe makes the heart go wronger - never ever, ever again.

Sorry Anna - I will indeed make it up to you one day. Promise.

Spo | August 7, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK | Kaneheads Kompanion

August 2, 2007

Kill it! Kill it! Die! Die!

text rcvd around 6pm: “I have a MAHUSIVE spider in the kitchen and I’m laughing coz I know you’d be saying “Oh Fuck Me! he’s a big one, no! use a proper shoe not a flip-flop, Kill it! Kill it! Die! Die!” and other equally stupid things whilst dancing about like a muppet..... awwww… x”

She doesn’t appreciate how bad my arachnaphobia actually is...............

and that Spiders have eight legs and eight eyes....

FUCKING EIGHT OF THEM!!!!!!!!!!

Spo | August 2, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi | Kaneheads Kompanion | Ojeni

May 28, 2007

Dusk Brewing over Blantyre……

Spo | May 28, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi | Pictures

May 23, 2007

How to Rip at the Captains Table…..

Each morning at the lake Paul, Anton and myself usually sit upon the Gecko Captains table and proceed to rip the bejesus out of each other for about an hour or two - it seems to go round in circles and the ripping can swoop to the next victim at any moment if the right insult is uttered - and if you’re slow on the uptake while thinking of a chink in your opponents armour, you can just keep shouting “ahhhh! hahahahaha!” while pretending to double up in pain at the hysterical nature of the last shot fired - things get noisy and barbed insults fly - until one of us has to storm off in a huff after being beaten with a killer blow (usually Anton).

It’s also fascinating the way the allegiances switch as well - one minute Anton and Paul rip into me for being a chunky butler who looks like he’s wearing a money belt and has no game at all with women - the next Anton and I are ripping Paul for being a Goblin with a silly beard who looks like the referee Mike Riley (lots of whistles and card waving here) - and then Paul fights back and I join him in ripping Anton for having a laugh like a sea lion and wearing shoes that look like Gondola’s with a shirt that matches the table cloth and bed spreads - observe:

Spo | May 23, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi | Pictures

May 21, 2007

Latest Wknd at the lake……

Spo | May 21, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi | Pictures

May 12, 2007

Fine, Fine, Fine…..

6.35am and I’ve awoken to the sound of the lake lapping the beach, a stones throw from the door – I lackadaisically wander over to sit out on the wicker couches at the end of the veranda, take in the first Blue Peter of the day (cigarette) and take a sip of water – strange night last night – a lot of dreams about folk and places I know oh so well, yet have not seen for quite some time now – especially in UK – distinct feeling when I woke up that I’d been back that side and everyone had moved on without me – faces so familiar now just folk in the bar – a nod hello being the extent of conversation – hard to say the who’s, what’s, why’s, when’s and where’s with dreams - the vessel shipwrecks on the shores when you wake and all you are left with are fragments of the last few hours memories that then start to slowly sink beneath the surface as reality grabs a hold.

Sun is breaking slowly over the hills to the right, beams smoke through the Gecko trees as the sound of the bay coming to life filters in from the distance. Villagers can be seen up and down the shoreline doing the daily wash as kids play around them – Andrew, the cook, comes over to say hello – still beaming about the stereo I picked up for him in Blantyre – one problem is there’s no electricity in his house and the batteries required aren’t sold in the Cape – never the less the stereo is the talk of their neighborly community and his wife has been proudly showing it off – I promise I’ll sort the batteries so that his kids Colletta 4, and Clement 1, can get their groove on soon enough – for the moment he’s sticking to dancing in the kitchen, which is “fine, fine, fine” – as everything always is in the life of Andrew it seems.

James the “professor” and odd job man in general, comes over with the tea – everything is “fine, fine, fine” with James as well – he calls me professor as he greets while setting down the cups – the fact that his nickname came about due to the sudden taking up of wearing glasses despite not needing them still sails over his head – I remember the day:

“you got glasses James”
“yes”
“from the doctor here?”
“Ah no”
“from….”
“my friend – he give me for appearance only”
“so you can see perfectly OK?”
“yes”
“well why not get dark ones – you know – for the sun and everything”
“Ah no – I like these ones”
“ok”
“yes”

I have thought about trying to explain that he is the professor as he now looks more intelligent (and the irony is he’s actually as sharp as a bubble) – but James seems pretty happy with the new greeting we have established – I say “Hey Professor” – he says “Ah you, professor” and the day carries on in it’s own way.

James reminds me again to buy baseball hat for him in Blantyre – I decide that I’ll get him a Straw Tombola hat instead as it will look funnier.

Alex the gardener appears wearing Straw Tombola Hat looking ridiculous – “Muli Bwanji Alex?” - brushing the beach he looks up smiling “Ndili Bwino, fine, fine, fine” as everything always is in the world of Alex - he grins 24 hours a day it seems – could be happiness – could be mental instability – either way – he’s “fine, fine, fine”.

I make mental note to buy everyone Straw Tombola Hats.

Sun really up in its tree now around 7.15am - Gecko slowly coming to life as the characters start playing their roles around the place. I look to the lake and contemplate the daily swim around the boats. The scrawny cat from Gaia snakes between my legs and then jumps up to start walking on the keys looking for some attention – I play a while until he curls up in the corner of the chair – my work is done – we are all slaves to our cat masters.

Breakfast arrives as does Ronald the barman:

“Muli sharp asai”
“sharp”
“how’s things today?”
“ah things are fine”
“Wife and kids Ok?”
“Sure they’re fine”
“Wife still fat?”
“yes – big” (Ronald smiles and gestures to suggest she has quite an equator wrapped around her)
“good – that means you’re a rich man in this place”
“Sharp”

Breakfast of Omelet and toast along with all the usual Fry-up trimmings is shared – even the cat gets some.

I stand to take in the beginning of the day – the cat moves into freshly available warm seat – like the “walking on the keyboard to get attention” move, cats tricks such as this seem universally understood within the species – I contemplate how many cats across the world are currently pulling the same move right at this moment.

Stretching out I stare at the Gecko Tattoo on my arm – needs a touch up here and there after the first inking to fill the gaps – but once it gets drilled again that means no swimming for two or three weeks and with each weekend being lake-bound, who can say when there’ll be a gap in my busy loafing schedule.

My mind races with ideas for this place – Pushing the shop sales on the other lakeshore, the DVD rental thing, the travelers book exchange, internet café, music and film deliveries via Hard-disk sent via DHL from my contact in the UK, private cottage maintenance and kitchen delivery service, bike hire, dive platform out in the lake, pizza oven in a kitchen overhaul – I look around at the developments taking place or planned – extension of the dance-floor, overhaul and thatching of the VIP captains table drinking area, the 8 person Dormitory coming along nicely, DJ booth in the corner – consider the plans talked of in government about fixing up the road and how much extra business can come our way as a result…..

The Lake shimmers, beckoning me to take the daily dip….

Spo | May 12, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi

May 10, 2007

ME KILL EVERYONE!!!!!!

I got cut off by the water board, the phone company and the DSTV people all on the same fucking morning today - and I’ve paid the fucking water board and Phone company already last week - and the DSTV is supposed to send you a little msg/bill thingy on the screen when it’s due - how can Malawi be so inefficent 90% of the time and then when it comes to money owed they’re on it like gangbusters? and even then they fuck it up.

and then there was the Fucking Frog incident again.

God damn motherfucking Frog sits outside my window around 5am about 2 or 3 times a week and proceeds to make a high pitched squealing sound until dawn has finally broken - since the first few times this has happened, I’ve explained to the guards that when they hear the damn fucking frog squealing they are supposed to go round the back of the house and scare it off or kill it if possible - and I know what you’re thinking “if you want a job done properly then you’ve got to do it yourself”, but in all honesty the guards at my place pretty much have to do two things - open and close the gate and press a panic button to call Securicor if robbers come - now I’ve added this third responsibility to their list of chores....

....and it seems it is completely fucking beyond them.

For the second time this week I get out of bed at 5am, open the front door, check Francis is not sleeping (yet again) and then ask him to go and kill the fucking frog - he just looks at me like I’m from out of space and mumbles something in chechewa - from which I pick up the word “ojeni” meaning something or other, and note a general look of confusion/stupidity - which is not uncommon for Francis who is certainly about as sharp as a biscuit.

I mean he can hear the frog nearly as clearly as I can from the other side of the house - it’s a high pitched squealing sound that repeats over and over and fucking over again until someone gets involved to stop it - I don’t care if he’s been sitting there for years and may have possibly got used to the noise, surely his world must also be a more serene and pleasant place to be without the frog than with it?

Surely he’s just sitting there thinking to himself (possibly, for some reason, in a Texan accent) “Gee fucking whizz that noise sure is fucking annoying the living shit out of me - I sure wish someone would go and stomp that fucking frog into Gods green earth and then pin it to a notice board as a warning to other Frogs not to come round here with that high pitched whining fucking shit they spout all night long”????

So anyways - Francis looks dumbfounded by what I’m trying to communicate to him - even using the most broken form of English - fair enough, I know he’s not a rocket scientist but I’m still pretty sure he should be able to vaguely figure out what the issue might be seeing as English is pretty much spoken all over Malawi in some form or another, but no so:

Therefore I have to:

• Imitate the Frog noise
• Make frantic hacking motion
• Point frantically to back garden

at which point Francis then gives a look of understanding which is perhaps due to a the wave of recognition washing over him as he suddenly remembers the 5 or 6 other times I’ve had to physically mime out the problem to him over the last few weeks.

Francis then gets the panga and slopes off round the back of the house and I go back to bed.

Only to be kept awake by Francis making more noise trying to find and kill the fucking frog than the frog was making in the first fucking place.

In other news my beloved Panasonic DMX-FX7 camera has been fixed and is making it’s way here via DHL from UK - true enough, I’ve ended up paying more to fix it than it costs to buy new - but import duty and insurance payout issues mean that it is in fact cheaper to get it fixed in the end - plus it’s my camera and I love it and I want it back.

I would be able to tell when it’s going to arrive, but my parents have given me the tracking number for the parcel that I originally sent them back in February rather than the parcel they just sent themselves the other day.

The geniuses.

Spo | May 10, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi

May 9, 2007

Genius…..

I highly recommend you read some fine writing by a good friend of mine - a weekend in the life of Eric Elsewhere - it’s genius. 

Spo | May 9, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Videos & Links

May 8, 2007

Maury Finkle, Finkles Fixtures and Fittings….. do it…. do it….

ahhhhh… it’s too well read here sometimes to say what is actually going on behind the scenes of all the tea drinks and Gecko dreams.....

Anyways - the last couple of weeks the pace of life has stepped up a notch - which is not suited to Malawi style pa-ng’ono pa-ng’ono (slowly-slowly)

Where to start??

Well Friday nights adventures took place in Blantyre rather than the usual Lakeside setting due to being asked by Aubrey of Twigga lounge to play the role of DJ (ie: man with Computer and ability to select decent music in the right order and make people dance) on the following Saturday. Saturdays gig could of done with better promotion (rival bar ripped down hastily arranged posters), better acoustics (speakers arranged by a mongoloid, tin roof, poor treble feedback on system) and no door fee (everyone spent their money on the hectic Friday night previous that I had originally asked to play instead) - but all in all it went cool as it could - 40 to 50 people dancing till 3am and smiling faces abounding.

Apart from the bit when a giant fat girl tried to kill/eat a slimy little bald headed Indian dude and made all the stunning Danish women stop shaking their asses and run back to their seats in the corner.

Friday night was the one though - I headed to locals club in town called Tuska which is run by friends Sanjay and Lorenzo - they’ve had a refurbishment of late and the place actually looks like a club now, rather than a cave with some speakers in it as it did before - one of the additions to the place is Sanjays Cocktail Bar of Death - named now by myself due to the Kryptonite juice poured down my throat in the form of possibly one of most potent alcoholic concoctions know to man - The Flaming Lamborghini Turbo Shooter:

This is the reason my evening cannot be recalled in full due to the fact that as a result of it’s powers I am now missing around 4 hours of my life and had a serious Coyote Ugly moment when I awoke the next morning.

At this point I should mention that my most feared enemies in the alcoholic world are:

• Sambuca - (after an unfortunate upchuck incident meaning no kissing the living-down-the-road-from-me-for-the-last-10-years never pulled before gorgeous girl goodbye at leaving party back in 2005).
• Tequila - (after an unfortunate Sambuca/Tequila idiot barman shot mix up with Lockey in a London club back in 2006 - he was trying to set fire to Tequila one side while I was necking a Sambuca/Salt/lemon combo that led to yet another upchuck incident once again).
• Rum - (because it’s Rum and therefore it’s fucking disgusting).

Unbeknown to me at the time, these black riders of the alcoholic apocalypse made up three of the four ingredients in this little short, sharp, shock of concentrated evil known as the Flaming Lamborghini Turbo - therefore, this particular shooter is like an Alcoholic version of Arachnophobia for me, as the drink is made up as follows:

• Starts with a glass containing 1 x shot of Stro 80 Rum which is then set on fire - (because when doing something stupid like drinking one of these, it makes warped sense to add fire to an already dangerous concoction of alcohol - sort of like someone came up with the recipe and then said “Fuck it, for all the sense this makes, it may as well be on fucking fire”.....)
• .....Anyways - Being quick with a straw, you dive in and drain the first shot of rum before the straw melts and.....
• .....as the rum disappears, the barman adds a shot of Sambuca, which you cane in the same breath, continuing…
• .....as the Sambuca disappears with a shot of Tequila poured the same way which is then....
• ..... followed by a shot of Amarula (African style Baileys type liqor) to top it all off - all down at the same time
•...... Also be careful not to get too close to the flames (as my singed eyebrows will testify)

I had 3 or 4 of these in reasonably quick succession, which is why I can’t really tell you much more about the evening apart from the fact that after hitting the cold night air at around 4am, I violently projectile vomited all over the place behind my car in the style of that little girl from the Exorcist.

And John told me that bit.

He said it was a really fine moment - I just sort of barked & barfed it all out and then went about as though nothing had happened.

It was a good night apparently.

Talking of the cold night air the weather here has gone British - it’s more than a bit nippy out it has to be said - and when packing for Africa back in January, I didn’t exactly stock up on jumpers and jackets - now everyones got a cold and the locals look like they’re all going on a skiing trip - for the British of course it’s mild, but the nights drop down to about 15-19c which can be a bit parky when you sitting around in shorts and T-shirt. I’m going to have to get me a thicker blanket than a bed sheet me thinks - or spend more time at the lake which never really gets cold at all.

In other news there has thankfully been no further recriminations from the incident of the Legend of Moonbat Morning - if anything the police (who I’m now on first name/face recognition terms with) have been far more friendlier - waving me through the frequent road blocks that hold up Limbe traffic all day - seems like I have bought a little more than freedom for my money.

Yuni having her problems in Jakarta and says it seems like all matters in life are against her and the world spins in exactly the opposite direction she needs it to - that city can really get on top of you sometimes and she sure sounds like she’s had enough - feels lost and alone and no idea what to do next - what else can I say other than she’s got me and I’m waiting with Beach bars, hammocks & sunsets at the end of the year? - she’s now asking more questions about how we get Visa’s, organise plane tickets along with thinking about how her family can access Western Union that side - so, seems like she is more likely to come than not when the big move is made come 2008ish time - I love it when a plan comes together.

Phone calls from head office asking if I can come back early and questioning further as to why I want to delay my transfer from UK books to those of the Dutch - I lied like a politician and deflected all queries with bureaucratically bullshitting excellence - I’m here till 28th June and there’s no way I’m leaving any earlier than I have to - seems like things over in Holland are getting hectic with new people needing training and too many of the old guard leaving unexpectedly - that as I have the experience to train, I could take the heat off a bit - but parallel to that they are also making murmurs about the moving of the books and the marrying of UK wage and Holland wage with UK living costs and Holland living costs - which spells out SALARY REDUCTION in my mind - which is cool as that gives me the perfect out when time comes to sit down and tell them I’m jacking it all in for lakeside living and a beach bar existence.

And that there’s no changing my mind as I’ve already got the tattoo.

Right - more planning of the weekend Gecko playlist of perfection - there’s 15 Danish women coming our way along with a crew of others - and if they all look like the 5 that were dancing in front of the decks at Twigga on Saturday night then it truly will be an evening to remember.

As long as I don’t have any more Flaming Fucking Lamborghini Fucking Turbo’s.

Spo | May 8, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi | Kaneheads Kompanion | Personal

May 3, 2007

Run Rabbit Run…..

Update on life in general coming soon but in the meantime please, please, please, take a minute to chuck a few pennies the way of some very good friends of mine Cassie “Bubba” Joyce, Anna “Bunnawowski” Longshaft (and her mum) who are legging it around London with a bunch of other women - all probably moaning about how they “can’t even walk in these shoes let alone run” while raising money for charideeeeeee on May 20th.

Click the following link and you can do hop on the bad foot and do the good thing using a variety of different payment methods.

CLICK HERE

Spo | May 3, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK | News | Ojeni | Personal | Videos & Links

April 25, 2007

Gone Gecko for the weekend…..

Payday just arrived, Holidays taken, Liverpool vs Chelsea leading into lazy days Thursday Friday, followed by big Gecko night Saturday and no more work till Wednesday......

Spo | April 25, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi

April 24, 2007

Giant Squirrel Terror Rampage Finally Ended By Local Hunters……

Spo | April 24, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Ojeni

April 17, 2007

Small step for Spo, giant leap for Gecko…..

So the email has been sent - that of saying I want to hold off on any move to Rotterdam books until discussions can take place in July when I return - the not unreasonable excuse being that I want to be sure exactly how the tax / insurance / renumeration against current salary (Holland pays through the nose for taxes) / health all works out and then further how I transfer money to UK for the flat and other such things like National insurance - therefore I want to sit and talk this out before they go ahead and do it.

Sounded good when I read it back to myself before I hit send.

However, talk travels fast and word will probably be quietly muttering around of possible plans - sure I talk too much - but usually only to those I know well - but who they talk to etc etc..... I already picked up a couple of vibes from the powers that be that they may not be too sure of my intentions for the future - this fuels the fire for sure-sure.

Step one along the path of not being full of shit about this whole Gecko plan has definitely been taken.

Spo | April 17, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi | Personal

April 17, 2007

The Day Today….

.... Shall forever be known as the day that I definitely decided to jack in the tea trade - a monotonous auction that lasted the best part of 4 hours had me losing the will to ever taste another cup of tea again as long as I live.

I decided many things during the sale -

• That Skee-lo’s “I Wish” should be followed by “My definition of a Boombastic Jazz Style” by the Dream Warriors and not by “Groove is in the Heart” by Deeelite.
• That I really shouldn’t call Antonetta but probably will at some point regardless of common sense, so should consider deleting her phone number - a motion the board is considering at this moment - but only considering.
• That I need to go shopping for food but England are playing cricket against South Africa so I will have to have empty cupboards for a day more.
• That once in Malawi permanently I will only really be able to leave once a year for visits elsewhere - which, if you think about the fact that I’m 30 this year, may mean that the amount of times I see people in the time left on the planet will be vastly reduced - answer = webcam I suppose - but still...... seeing friends and family once a year for a limited time....... makes you think.....
• That my Tattoo has finally more or less healed but needs a touch up or two to make him sharp-sharp - tempted to get another one at the same time.
• That I should consider flying to South Africa to see Grindhouse when it opens.

and

• That the decent thing to do and to avoid unnecessary hassle and confusion is to tell the head office I do not want to be moved on to the Rotterdam books for all things tax/salary/insurance/residence related - which is what is planned to happen from July 1st when they move me from the UK office books - if I tell them now then I will be able to manage my move to Malawi a lot easier from UK/Holland with regard to finance - also the head office will not have to jump through hoops to do all the necessary bureaucratic application paper work for someone who is about to nip off to Africa as soon as the ink is dry.

However, saying such things does kind of kick off a fire alarm that screams of possible uncertainty about the future - leading them to ask questions of my plans and then I will end up admitting that I’m leaving - which has to be done I know - but I wasn’t planning on doing it just yet - I wanted to get my finances in order just in case they may say in a if you’re not committed to the cause then don’t help sail the ship type way that it’s better to leave earlier than November/December I’ve planned for...... Hmmmm..... but it’s gotta be done I guess - I think I can use the excuse of my flat and payments from Holland to UK banks / tax increases in holland needing to be discussed upon my return - still, it’ll ring some bells that’s for sure - but yeah, it’s gotta be done.

Then when I snapped back to reality the sale was drawing to a close and all around where packing up and making notes - one of the producers came up to me to ask how I thought the auction had gone and without thinking I almost blurted out:

I wish I was little bit taller,
I wish I was a baller
I wish I had a girl who looked good
I would call her
I wish I had a rabbit in a hat with a bat
and a ‘64 Impala...........I wish I was at the lake already.

Spo | April 17, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi | Personal

April 16, 2007

I Wish….

.....that all things in life could run as smoothly as when I used the super-dooper electronic communications exchange of information high-speed highway device on Sunday - I type in Skee-lo “I wish” in google - come across AM.180 run by a man named Thomas - doesn’t have quite the right version I’m looking for, remix without the hook - send the man a mail and by Monday he finds & sorts out a link to the original download MP.3 for me!

Used yousendit.com just this second to return the favour, with Addis Black Widow’s “Innocent” soon to join his music collection.

There’s good people in the world with fine tastes in music and thankfully many of them use this internet ojeni.

Muchos Gracias Mr.Thomas!

Spo | April 16, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Film / TV / Music | Ojeni | Videos & Links

April 13, 2007

For When Life Fits LIIIIKKKKEEE A GLOVE….

Seriously not earning a penny of my pay at the moment - spending all day on msn with everyone, Hanh on yahoo, Lauren on Skype..... messing about with I-tunes and searching about the super dooper highway electronic communication device for new music.

The other day I did some running round with Nicole for the shop after a long lunch at cool little restaurant called Red Pepper that makes the best Piri Piri Chicken on the planet.

A bold statement - but I stand by it.

Day before I drifted off and went shopping, paid my sat.DSTV, got my car checked out, went to travel agents, filled up on petrol, got money sorted, called in at the post office, went camera hunting.... generally just took care of the little things in life rather than actually spending any time in the office earning the actual money to take care of all those little things in life.... 

Really have lost the will to work for tea and my mind is only on the future at the lake.

Last Easter Wknd was massive - think we had 150-200 people at Gecko at one point - played all night long - knocked it out the park - compared to the other places up there on the shore, we fucking owned Easter - every track played hit it’s mark and the bar and restaurant ran at full steam the whole night through without too many fuck ups.

Smiling faces everywhere.

Could of been the various cocktails of mood embellishing substances in the blood stream though.

Most importantly this time we took a hell of a lot of money over the bar - with the tabs tallied and the food & chalets taken into consideration, it was probably a 500’000kw day of things - around $3500 - for a bar in Africa that’s some serious money.

Looking around the day after I was just thinking of the future and how I want it all to start as soon as possible - and I’ve been putting a lot of thought into how soon that could be.

Original plan was December - but we have so much cooking at the moment - so much I want to get started on - so many big plans.... ahhhhh but....

I do respect the fact my current company has given me a great deal though - I won’t just hand a months notice and disappear - I’ll assist with the new guy and his training and I’ll make sure they are in a position that isn’t too stretched when I finally bail - three months notice and then extend if they need me to..... but man that is going to be a hard conversation to have - the one where I say I’m leaving after 10 years and all this experience, travel, training and trust..... however I can see clearly what the next 5 years look like and they resemble a 9-5 office based struggle with cash in a Western world and no real desire or responsibility on the job front.

Going through the motions on the conveyor belt of everyday existence.

Although I do taste tea for a living and that seems like it isn’t exactly an everyday type of job, at the end of the day it’s a commodity and bought and sold in the same kind of way as everything else - sitting in an office writing emails and making calls - many of which amount to nothing. This job comes alive when you are in the countries of origin and you have a bit of responsibility to make your own decisions - but the admin end is just as soul sucking as it is in any other walk of life.

Hell, I’ve been on auto pilot since leaving Vietnam I think.

2004.

That was the last time I felt driven and enthusiastic about the work I was doing - I recognise the same feeling inside when I think about what I’m going to do at the lake - which is how I know it is the right thing for me now.

It feels like a very long time since Vietnam and the last time I’ve felt like that.

3 or 4 years of drifting since then.

3 or 4 years of drinking seriously too.

hmmmm..... that’s another one to look at soon perhaps - the drink is flowing a little to freely at the moment - expensive tastes as well..... all the relevant whiskey I can get my grubby little hands on .... but then again, to be fair the cricket world cup is on and I have found a new love in my life - and with that comes celebration.

I think that beforehand I dismissed the sport as simply being too long drawn out and too damn fucking complicated - all those numbers and % everywhere across the bottom of the screen - no idea who is who and why they are doing what they’re doing. However now it has all opened up - it’s like I speak another language - what was once gibberish now makes perfect sense - run rates, overs, batting averages, boundaries, fours and sixes..... the game that turned me was England vs Sri Lanka - that was better than any football match I’ve seen for about 5 years or so - for it all to end on the final ball and then to find later that they only bowled 5 balls in an over instead of 6 and..... I won’t go into this too much as I am aware of the fact the majority reading are like me before I turned - cricket = boringasseddon’tgiveaflyingfuckmate.

Anyways - I love cricket now.

Although Australia do seem to take the fun out of it by being virtually indestructible and battering everyone who steps to the crease.

Hmmmm...... spoke to Lauren most of the afternoon on Skype - seems as if there was an earthquake tremor near the lake and the city of Lilongwe - Malawi being the tail end of the East African rift valley then these things happen every so often - villagers running around wailing and screaming like the sky was going to fall down apparently.

Just a tremor and a bit of shakey-shakey though.

Yuni would not be impressed after the proper real deals of Jakarta in comparison.

Merely a murmur she’d say.

Not heard from her all week - guess she’s mulling over the last mail where I mapped out the whole plan of pay and costs - what we’re going to do up at the lake if she comes - how we’ll live, what we’ll be responsible for, she wanted to know all about the little things like tv phones internet etc - what the day to day would be.

Truth is that before I just kind of looked on it like if she came it would be califragfuckinglistic, if not then it wouldn’t be the end of the world - I do appreciate her family situation over there so I knew it was no easy answer - but now we’ve made all these extra plans about the development of the business - the expansion of the bar to incorporate two more ventures, the shop and the water project taking off just now… plus a few other ideas we have cooked up - I’m really going to need her to manage to take all this on.

Hmmmm...... I think I need to call her tmw.... see how she feels about it all.

Right - home and rest - no lake, no 6am Tuska seeing the dawn in shindig, definitely no little green tablets.… and in fact no drinking this wknd.

Well, no heavy drinking this wknd.

I mean it is FA Cup Semi Final day on Sunday after all.

Spo | April 13, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi | Personal

April 11, 2007

Nap-attack…..

Gecko chow time on Saturday evening - sat at the Kings table with Paul and Lauren - gust of wind and then something scuttled down my leg - I freaked big time and jumped out my seat, leaping around the veranda.

“Fuck! Fuck! Spider! Spider! Fuck! Fuck! Spider! Spider! Fuck! Fuck!”

As we have established in the past - I do not like fucking spiders - so then i peered down in the blackness under the table to see what it was - there was something long and white lying there.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!!” I bellowed - still leaping on the spot pointing at my unidentified nemesis like a man possessed with unholy fear unseen since...... erm.... the last time I saw a spider I suppose.

Lauren stifled laughter for a second before asking “What? you mean the Serviette napkin??”

Leading to the two of them cracking to pieces to the point of laughing so hard they couldn’t breathe and then telling the tale to all and sundry - everyone ripped me for the rest of the weekend.

Suffice to say I am not expecting to hear the end of this matter for a long time to come.

It felt like a fucking spider though.

It did.

Spo | April 11, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi | Personal

April 11, 2007

Day in the Life of Jakartan Weekend……

From wayyyyyy back - I read this over again this morning and it really nails the average Jakartan Sunday

Spo | April 11, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Personal

April 4, 2007

She’s surely on board the good ship Gecko…..

Yuni emailed to ask that if she comes, how much we’re going to be able to set aside for the folks back in Jakarta, general expenses back there and her daughters education over the next year or so.....

Knew she’d come around.... just need to put it altogether for her.

Making a plan with Anton this weekend to agree on the payment of the 30%...... doing a thorough stock assessment and costing of the last years profits....

Love it when a plan comes together.

Best start looking to December flights back to Blantyre should all run as smoothly as this....

Big 4 day weekend at the lake starting Friday - driving up tmw round 2pm - whole lakeshore is booked out - people can’t even find camping - going to be a Gargantuan Gecko Kampango Banger Bash of note

We’ve even banned alcohol Sunday-Thursday in preparation - and that’s even with all the cricket world cup and champions league action this week.

Alright, I may have had a few Carlsberg Greens over the Liverpool game last night.

But Beer doesn’t count.

Anyways - here comes the monster weekend - Most Splendid.....

Spo | April 4, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi | Personal

April 4, 2007

And your host for this evening is….

Paul says: tv malawi want us to do a program about current affairs - interviews etc

Spo says: we are aware of current affairs

Paul says: could be fun

Spo says: can i be in it for some reason?

you can host it if you want

hehahaha - it is tv malawi so i geuss i don’t have to be experienced - is it out in the field?

where ever we feel. they want a test tape

i’ll be happy to do what ever you want - but no hairy bobbing man ass shots

lol - tourism

yes my hairy bobbing man ass will not be good for Malawian tourism

if they like it we can have a weekly slot, starting on sat morning.. and work our way into an evening slot

yet another career move..... can i have a really attractive co-host - like that Malawian girl from around your office or Nicole?

sure

Splendid

we’ve got the camara… its a matter of editing

splendid

i want to do a Larry King

like HARD TALK on BBC?

talking to these strange malawians

box-2’s and the like

cloud be funny

very very funny

Spo | April 4, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi

April 1, 2007

Morning Moonbat Boy…..where’s your brain gone?

The Saturday dawn breaking outside as another night at Tuska headed for close - myself and Lauren worse for “where the fuck are we” as we journeyed back round from the dark side of the moon - then a friend longtime unseen with my eyes put a green tablet in each of our palms and said “Take these as gifts - good to see you again - enjoy” - he’d been buying the drinks the best part of the night, so who are we to refuse more hospitality?

Fools.

Down the hatch what ever they may be, along with another shot of whiskey to see them on their merry way.

Then I had the good sense to say “we need to get to where ever we are going to be before what ever we’ve just taken kicks our heads to Mars - reckon we got 30 minutes”

We gathered John from the dance-floor and headed for home.

Too late.

Came up like a motherfucker slap bang in the middle of the morning traffic.

First time in 7 years or so - can’t ever remember a stronger wave of “Ohfuckmewhere’smyheadjustfuckinggone” - there’s a time and a place for such long returns to such states of mind - and 6am traffic definitely doesn’t fit the bill

Chaos reigned for a time before I managed to pull over and let John drive - luckily not a recipient of the same “gift” my old achemwene had handed us not 15 minutes before.

In both senses of the phrase I span out the door to crash in the back seat, as I did I turned into my alter-ego “Moonbat Boy”.

Spent the rest of the morning looking pretty damn surprised by life in general and responding to conversations about 40 minutes too late - kind of situation where the majority of what is said to you is along the lines of “what the fuck on earth are you talking about?”

Bedroom activities also suffered on an account of forgetting what the bejesus it was I was supposed to be doing.

Don’t really think I got my shit together for about 24 hours to be honest.

All in another days work for Moonbat boy - hopefully his reign of confused chaos will remain consigned to what ever world he comes from for ever more......

...As Lord knows the next time that good friend of mine hands me a little green gift at 6am I’ll politely decline, no matter how far round the dark side of the moon I maybe.

Spo | April 1, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi | Kaneheads Kompanion | Personal

March 30, 2007

Just click the heels together……

I don’t know what I expected really - a “yeah sure that sounds great - just let me know when and I’ll make a plan” response?

Well there’s lots of little details I guess - but in the end I figured the offer of lakeside living, sunshine and sand, hammocks and boat trips.... along with building our own business - that would be the kind of opportunity you don’t think twice about.

But the girl is not so sure.

“Forget University, leave your country, your job, your family, your friends, way of life - even daughter for a time - and come to Africa and we’ll build an empire on the lakeside - maybe - and no baby there’s no lions and no baby it’s not living in a jungle and yes baby there will be water & electricity - by the bells of St.Chris we’ve got wi-fi sitting out on the shore..... we run the shop, the bar, the chalets, the restaurant, the water project, the boat trips.....it’ll be what we make it....”

Yeah, that’s a lot to take in.

Though Jakarta is an unbelievable shithole - it is still a shithole called home.

She’s got her father to look after who’s 75 and not doing so good - she’s got the good job going places as a P.A to the director of an intl Cement company - she’s got the part time teaching thing......

But she’s also got the daily struggles and the constant buzz of congestion, pollution, corruption, poverty, decay, earthquakes, floods...... and no me either.

And me no her.

The best way to be together is this - any other possible place on earth we’re talking sky-high costs & visa problems - culture clashes and employment issues - UK? Holland? would be a fucking nightmare to sort that out - and lord knows it’s not likely I end up back in Jakarta anytime soon - here in Malawi, Paul can organise all we need and the life will lend itself to the slow-slow as we find our way.

I ask myself “what’s to think about?” but for me jumping countries and snap decisions are common practice - put me in her shoes and I guess I can see where she’s coming from.

So for now I’m making plans to start without her in December - can’t see past the issue with her father - family first - especially in that part of the world.

But neither the lake nor I are going anywhere.

So there’ll always be a day should she want to make the jump - figure that photo’s and conversation can’t do it justice - she’s got to come and SEE the possibilities I’m talking about.

The folks back home seem to be taking the change of plans pretty well.

If silence on the matter can be taken as indication as such.

Guess they’re just taking all that info in - the whole resigning, selling the flat, new job, career, country, no guarantees it’ll all sail type thing.

I’ll wait till I get back to UK before I mention the Tattoo I think.

Spo | March 30, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi

March 28, 2007

Marked For The Future……

So yeah - I got a tattoo - Gecko style - he’s a little monster - burns like hell at the mo - Henani and the man with the needles turned up at Paul’s Monday and after a few stiff vodka’s and boiling of all the necessary, they went to work.

Hardest part is sitting in the same position for that long - it stings a bit when you get near the nerves and bone, but overall it didn’t really hurt at the time - over an hour or so it just feels like someone slowly dragging a razor-blade across your skin - which, although that actually sounds really bad, is not something that is so painful once you get used to it - that makes me sound like a masochist - who knows - but then again I’ve bounced off and onto so many things in life so far that my tolerance to pain is pretty high - I’ve been scraped, scratched, burned, bitten and broken enough times not to flinch at a tattoo.

Spiders on the other hand.....

The issue now is keeping it clean and clear - Vaseline/moisturiser 3 times a day - don’t get it covered in dirt or tea (hard in my job) - don’t scratch or scrape it at all - itchy, gooey, black, inky, blood stuff coming out all the time - can’t go swimming or get it seriously wet in any way - meaning no lake or pool shenanigans for 2-3 weeks......

But I’m very happy and have named him “ojeni”.

He shall now be with me forever more.

Spo | March 28, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi | Pictures

March 26, 2007

Eeeesh…..

After canceling Friday and running off to the lake all wknd, I had to continue the charade about being ill and not in fact disgracefully hungover - it really has become a tangled web of lies.

The story of my supposed Thursday possible food poisoning leading to early doors escape meant that people were concerned for my well being and wanted to call me to verify that I was ok later on - the slightest cold or flu symptom here could be Malaria you see - but of course, they couldn’t get through as my provider has no coverage at the lake - so when my boss asked, I explained I left the phone on charge but didn’t realise I had not turned on the charger - and as the phone didn’t ring I just assumed no one was trying to get through.

But the natural thing to do when someone who may have malaria doesn’t pick up their phone, is to go to their house and be sure-sure they are ok - I thought ahead to this and explained that as Beth doesn’t work the wknd, I stayed at a friends so I was not alone during my weakened suffering.

Now people have been phoning this morning to check I’m fine.

I can spin the tale of woe pretty good on the phone - especially due to my usual Monday voice of post lake hungover suffering.

Face to face the sun burn is harder to explain however.

Spo | March 26, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi

March 20, 2007

“Rock Under The Sun Trampy…..”

Unfortunate list of casualties from St Paddys night include:

•Phone (admittedly an annual occasion at some point)
•Another pair of knock-off Sunglasses
•several lighters
•15000 Malawi Kwacha
•1 bottle of Jameson’s Irish Whiskey.
•Plot for several hours.

They will be missed.

Those reading whom I’ve lost details for, pls email your number using the usual mail/link on the side there and I’ll restart the book on when I am next likely to lose my new phone from today (I’m still on the same number btw).

The thing with losing a phone is not the phone - it’s all the numbers of folk you’ll never get in touch any other way than calling when you are next in their neck of the woods.

I think maybe most are stored on the sim card I have in Holland though.

But It’s also all the pictures and video you have on there.

Especially the ones from Jakarta

ahem.

Friday and drinks in the tea district turned to meeting Paul and the girls at local den of funk named Twigga - there were a few of the younger crowd out and about on a fisherprice-my-first-night-out type of affair - 15 year old girls hurling in the corridors while young guys try to start fires with their eyes type stuff - gets in the way of people actually having a good time when the bar looks like kindergarten, so we moved on to the hip-hop cave of Tuska.

As people tired we dropped them back at Doogles before John and I moved on out to Kambaa - local den of iniquity - I got myself into trouble dancing with some girl who I was one sentence away from taking back to my place and leaving John where he stood - luckily the image clicked into my mind of Yuni dressed up as Rock chick after that Jakartan Rolling Stones night and I resisted the considerable temptation that was practically pole dancing before me and said my goodbyes.

I tell you - that night back in 2005 - Yuni wearing slashed up Rolling Stones shirt with rope-laddered tassles up the back - rock chick hair - eye liner - denim short-short skirt - Fuck-me Knee high boots - Tequila shot belt with bottles in the holsters.... that’s when I fell in love with that girl - that night - sure-sure.

I had a picture on my phone......

That was an image I had to conjure again when we returned to Tuska around 4am and ended up dancing with a girl from Mozambique called Antoinetta - who accompanied us to Sunnyside where we danced on chairs again. I again made my plea for escape and we moved to some locals bar in the middle of nowhere - I was truly wasted by this point - normally I’ve levelled out by this time of the morning - sort of drunk myself sober - done the round trip so to speak - but I was in the hurt locker and vision was an issue - it was the sort of place Nic Cage finds himself in from that Sierra Leone scene in Lord of War - I also think it’s one of the few times in life that someone could say I was drunker than John - that’s proper drunk - to be drunker than John at 8am is like a higher plateau of drunkeness - box2 drunkeness almost.

When we made it back to Pauls, (after arguing with the Doogle’s door staff about the time breakfast should be served) it was too early to wake him so I could crash on his couch and it was simply too much of a mission to consider driving back to my place in Blantyre, so I curled up in the sun on a rock outside Johns house, as he passed out in his doorway.

About as far away from a picture of sobriety as you can get - that’s cross the road and throw-small-change-at-me-alcoholic-reprobate really isn’t it? not good.

I don’t think the drinking here is like Jakarta though - in Jakarta I think indeed I had a problem for a little while - it was daily and it was at home and on the big nights out it was too concentrated in short spaces of time - but I came to my senses and it passed - here, although the whiskey flows freely and the wknd nights last till dawn, we dance while we drink so you never really get too fucked up beyond all recognition - although falling asleep on the rock is obviously a bit trampy, I offer the simple excuse of an exhausting drive home and tiredness in my defence.

Which may not stand up in court but it’s all I got at the mo.

It’s a red-flag then - ”No more excessive drinking to the point of sleeping on rocks in the sun at 830am” - would the honorable judge of karma duly note that last admission in writing and offer it for referral if there is anymore such tom-foolery in the near future.

I say “near” as it doesn’t do anyone any harm to drink all night and sleep on a rock every once in a while.

Builds character.

So then came St.Patrick’s day.

The wknd at Gecko when we had that big party had led to me being asked to sort the music out for a St Patrick’s shindig that was taking place in Blantyre - small venue, but well set up with a good crowd and Paul helped out with hiring an amp and speakers. Once I had woken from a snatched couple of hours sleep in the afternoon, we headed over to Adele’s place and set up shop - broken as I felt, I soon was back on something resembling form after getting a good feeding at the Bar-B-Q and indulging in the rather potent green punch that was filled up in one of the water coolers (genius idea - remove water - add punch - self serve green evil). I was presented with a packet of Benson’s and a bottle of Jameson’s Irish Whiskey for my pay and then I set about playing from 6pm till 4am - messing with the computer hooked up to the amp and twiddling equalizers and volume control’s while playing the best of what I had.

All was going really well until around 11pm when I was passed a ready rolled joint of some very potent Mari-Jo - I pretty much stopped smoking the delights of Mari-Jo back in 2000 when I came back from Malawi the first time around - you see, once I came back from 6 months of no longer smoking it, my tolerance level had disappeared and I no longer kept pace - also I just generally preferred being sharp and able to think again - getting stoned on Mari-Jo no longer felt the way it used to - now it just put my head in a cloud of confusion and seemed to make me less sociable and more withdrawn, so I just figured I’d had a good innings up until then and left it at that.

So as I knew that my smoking days were over and my tolerance levels are now around zero, I left the J sitting there on the mixer for an hour or so until I did what any half wasted individual would do - said “Ah fuck it” and smoked the whole damn thing in the time it takes to smoke the average cigarette.

Initially no problems - nicely rolled, mellow buzz, sweet taste - but then 10 minutes later it was like a Pirate Galleon to the back of the head and my mind went to Mars - absolutely spoon-faced.

What ever the fuck was in that joint, it’s not what should of been on the menu upon re-entering the world of smoking Gods greenest for the first time in a mighty long while.

Suddenly Moonbatted out of existence, I had considerable difficulty messing about with track listings, playlists, mixing faders and equalizers - Paul had also explicitly explained that when the beat ratio ojeni went up into the red light area ojeni, I was supposed to turn the volume down a bit to make sure the whole thing didn’t automatically shut itself off - I had been pretty good about this so far - but now I couldn’t really focus on the lights any longer.

There was a big whitey on the horizon and I fucking knew it - in such situations to avoid ”pale-face porcelain-god praying in the form of upchuck”, there are three main answers:

1) Water
2) Chair

3) and finally - stop drinking fucking strong Irish whiskey for a bit.

You see my initial theory upon head-caving was that if one type of fuckedupness fought and overpowered the fuckedupness of another type, then I would go back to being whiskey-drunk instead of super-stoned.

This Doesn’t Work.

It’s like trying to put out a fire with alcohol.

Just makes a new monster that’s more difficult to control than the first situation.

It’s like kicking a Gremlin in the ass and have him turn into Godzilla.

It’s high end stupidity.

But it made total sense at the time.

So once I’d picked up the pieces of my mind and put them in some form of order, I hoped no one had noticed that the songs had been pretty much sorting themselves out at random for 30 mins or so and got back to the job in hand.

I hadn’t really enjoyed being so wrecked you see, it was like I’d tipped my mind into and abyss and had then spent the next hour or so abseiling down into the darkness to try and find it - when what I really should of done was enjoy standing around with a stupid grin on my face while relaxing into the music that I was (supposed to be) playing.

Later I finished off the Jameson’s as 4am rolled around and I decided to go check out what was going on elsewhere in town - there had been a big bash for 300-400 people at Doogle’s that the girls had gone to - sure enough, upon arrival I found Rose and Ziegler still going amongst the remains of the party before me - we gathered up a few other stragglers and headed to Tuska and on to Sunnyside for dawn - where people danced on chairs - again.

Unsurprisingly, this 4am to 8am period is when the sunglasses and phone met their doom.

Last call Doogle’s for fry-up breakfast - and then I made a bed out of some uncomfortable metal chairs.

Slightly trampy.

But not rock under the sun trampy.

Spo | March 20, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi | Personal

March 16, 2007

The Reason to Move to Malawi…..

As long as I’ve got the HTML code correct, clicking the above should also take you to the flickr version where you can click the “all sizes” icon and access the full size shot (1440 x 2560) as well.

Spo | March 16, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi | Pictures

March 15, 2007

Galimoto update….

“Look after my car OK? I had no problems with it the year I was here - should be fine - you’ve got previous, so take it easy”

Robins words to me before leaving Malawi.

Since January, when he left the car in my hands, it has needed the following:

• 1 new tyre after it blew out in first week hitting something during a rainstorm
• 2 new fan-belts
• 1 new battery.
• 1 missing piece of ojeni off the front bumper.
• 1 tow & service after cooling system broke down Friday night and car nearly exploded on Saturday morning - Mechanic’s wide eyed exclamation of “he was actually driving this thing in this condition!!??!?!”.

How else did he expect us to get to the bar?

So, not bad so far.

I’ve not actually crashed yet.

Spo | March 15, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi

March 14, 2007

No Surprises…..

In the Last Kiss, Zach Braff’s character explains that nailing Rachel Bilson was down to looking ahead in life and seeing the turning 30 mark - the job, the wife, the kids - and suddenly there’s no surprises - so he did something arguably very stupid and made a mistake - although Rachel Bilson is a rather splendid mistake to make - I mean if you are looking at weighing the pain and heartache to come against a night of sheer unadulterated Bilson banging, then you can see why many a man stronger than Mr.Braff would say it’s worth it - she mighty fine indeed.

Furthermore you’d know you were doing wrong, so you’d really make sure you savored the moments - As Ron Burgundy would say “go to pleasure town” - you’d be wheelbarrowing Bilson around your apartment, fucking burrowing to China from dusk till dawn, getting her into every uniform you can think of, one for each room of the house, Bilson ass bouncing off the walls running round the show in a whipped cream bikini and ending the night sweating more than a blind lesbian in a fishmongers.

And then you’d go home and get in trouble with the future wife and sleep on the doorstep for three nights.

But you’d always remember Rachel Bilson’s look of surprise in the mirror as you flipped her over and went down like you were trying to wear her as a hat.

The night a mistake.

But not a regret.

I’m 30 in June and also look ahead to the future and have to admit that as surprising and califragafuckinglistic as the places I’ve ended up over the last ten years have been, I do look ahead and see no surprises - I mean it’s an office life in Rotterdam with a ceiling of responsibility - doing a job that although I know very well, hasn’t sparked a flame of interest for about three years now - going through the motions. Future travels will be curtailed by the movements in the company currently taking place - in every corner of the world where we are represented, there’s now a guy stationed in each that’s likely to be there for the foreseeable.

I do appreciate what I have - but I don’t think it’s what I want.

So when Paul says come run the Gecko show at the lake - to invest a shareholding - further develop on the island opposite - the new shop - the chembe project selling Cape Mac water - and Yuni says she needs to get out of Jakarta as soon as possible and she’s run places like this already......

I look at the current jobs security of an established career, it’s 9-5, it’s pensions, it’s insurance, the schools for future kids, the stability and I compare to sunsets, hammocks, lakeside drinks, swimming in Nyasa waters, Kampango fish on the barbecue, music playing, making people happy......building a resort reputation of note.

I could be about to make a mistake indeed.

But I don’t for one moment think it will be a regret.

And it could very well turn out to be the leap of faith that keeps me waking up smiling for the rest of my days.

Much like I imagine Zach Braff’s character does when he thinks about that night with Rachel Bilson.

Spo | March 14, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi

March 12, 2007

So Dead they’d have to bury me twice……

Monday afternoon and I’m 18 minutes from 5pm and making a break for taking my broken self home and bringing the salvation of food and bed.

I had a little surprise burp earlier and a sneaky little bit of sick came up.

Nice.

Every Monday in recent memory has been a broken one, but this one has been particularly punishing - the Gecko Girls came to Blantyre and indulged in forbidden fruits such as restaurants, bars, swimming pools and TV - such things denied out where they are based teaching in the Milosa schools on the foothills of Zomba plateau.

Friday and the bar with drinks in the pool till near dawn wasn’t the kicker - neither was the whole waking late for work at midday Saturday - finding myself with no phone and a car overheating to the point of explosion and having to get to work and taste a blend - the killer was the Saturday night.

After the Italian meal at Hosteria, Rose, Ziggy and Abbi crashed at mine, leaving myself, Cate and John to head over to Paul’s and drink till around 2am - this malicious mix of vodka, whisky and Po10c propelled the three of us to end up in a locals club off the beaten track called Kambaa - worried that unwelcome paws would be clawing at our beautiful blond English queen, we made sure to keep an eye on the prize and head off any fishing eeway’s at the first attempt - however, upon making my way across the dance floor I realised it was in fact myself who needed protecting - those women were like the vampires from Dusk Till Dawn - hands appearing from all angles - belt being pulled - arms grabbed - and they went for the money shot as well - I’m talking more than a tap - proper cuppage - shy they were not.

Time ticking on and the drinks flowing through us freely, we needed to dance and while Kambaa had character, we decided the place to move to was Tuska in town - walking in it’s nothing special - wooden viewing balcony over concrete dance floor - bar on the right - but such places just need the the right mix of music, the right people and the right amount of alcohol coursing through their veins - and we checked all boxes.

Playing a blend of local Kwasa Kwasa and hip-hop, the night kicked into gear - Cate owned the floor and drank what ever came her way, John seemed to know everyone and the DJ played some floor movers despite his drunken mixing - I was doing a fine job of destroying their stocks of JW Red till I danced into a hole in the floor and twisted my ankle - looked like a spoon for a second and then kept dancing - alcohol foolishly allowing for such things, as the next days swollen foot taught me.

We danced until the dawn broke through the door - always a sign that time has got away from you when the daylight is so bright outside and you never even had the savvy to see the sun sneak up across the way.

This should usually have acted as a big sign saying “home and bed” - but John (who by this point was completely and utterly fucked up beyond all recognition) decided that there was a place in Chilangoma village somewhere and we could carry on there - another guy called Mavuto dressed in sharp suit and shades was also a member of our pack by this point - I make a point of mentioning this as “Mavuto” is chechewa for “trouble” and find it amusing that anyone would name their child ”trouble” as soon as they arrived on Gods Green Earth - he was a bouncer of some description and I bought his shades off him for 1000mkch due to the sunlight becoming an enemy to my eyes as the morning developed.

They’re Gucci’s.

And they cost 4 quid.

Real deal, honest Guv’nor.

After waking up a none too impressed friend of ours called Patrick and establishing that, no, he didn’t want to come drinking at the bottle store round the corner at 730am, we then had a few more drinks at this hole in the wall John directed us to. It was not long before Cate and I decided that John was beyond broken and needed to be put down as soon as possible - we also needed to crash sometime soon ourselves - We said our goodbyes and drove back to Limbe, where we deposited our drunken dreadlocked achemwene on Pauls driveway before heading for home.

Of course we couldn’t return not bearing gifts, so we went to the bakery to stock up on savoury delights for the others - drunkenly jumped the queue outside and started ordering various cakes and muffins to be added to a bulging bag of goodness - once finished I asked the fellow for the bill and was shocked to hear it came to 7040mkwch ($50)- “punishing” I thought to myself but reasoned “suppose maybe doughnuts are expensive here” and started doling out the cash - Cate stopped me when she realised I was being a tool and had just misheard 740 rather than 7040 - good intervention, as I would rather of just paid and left than have a wasted conversation about the price of bread.

Home on the horizon and 8am ticking by there was one more stop to make.

Doogles bar and lodge where full monty English Fry up’s with all the trimmings were all that was on our menu’s and in our hearts and minds.

No finer way to finish an evening.

Spo | March 12, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi

March 9, 2007

Life is like a box-2, you never know what you’re going to get……

Tuesday night I managed to lock myself out of my house again - previously I’d got back from the lake on Monday and found I’d left the latch on the door from the inside so had to go crash at Paul’s - the next morning after 8am once Beth had started work and come with her own keys for the side door, I arrived back at my place. I got a quick shower, rushed around a bit and left for auction at 830am looking a bit lake-side with my sunshine skin and 4 day stubble - I proceeded to bumble through the day, only to return and now find that in my morning whirlwind, I’d left my keys indoors - swore the gods for fucking with me when so broken and headed back to Paul’s again.

On the way there I headed up the Zomba road and spied a figure dancing down the centre of the road in front of me - carefree kind of jogging and dancing at the same time with his arms flailing in the air - seemingly singing at the top of his voice - wearing only a tatty oversized pair of white Y-fronts:

“aha” I thought to myself.

“a Box-2 on the loose again”

I got to Paul’s and he informed that the guy had been out there all day - running up and down the road - jumping on car bonnets in the rain and trying to hump the engines - he’d been holding up traffic, nearly getting run over, probably slapped a few times - just dancing up the middle of the street in his pants trying to have sex with automobiles.

The thing is that even though this is one of the more outstanding cases - it’s not a surprise.

Over in Zomba they have the mental hospital - very far away from the sunshine enthusiasm of Hollywood’s happy go lucky kooky board game playing hearts of gold - first off you have Box-39 and these boys don’t get let loose - that place must be the stuff of Freddy Kreuger’s very own nightmares - that’s a serious pit of no return and someone should be making a slasher flick about back-packers that accidentally stumble across it - we’re talking dark side of the moon barking like a dog trying to eat their own feet shit-house crazy - strapped to beds and left there cases.

Then you have Box-2 - still fucking nuts - but not in a cannibalistic kind of way - more a dribbling dancing mumbling dustbin state of affairs - usually found in the middle of the road wandering aimlessly talking to themselves with only a badly cut loincloth to cover their modesty - the box-2 is a strange beast who should be avoided at all costs - and certainly not to be trusted with animals, as numerous reports of Donkey humping incidents will testify.

They wander the hills around the asylum and often make their way to the town of Zomba and even as far as nearby Limbe - whether these day trips are officially sanctioned or whether they are the result of slack Malawian attitudes to security, I don’t know - but what I do know is that they seem like the African versions of Jack from Father Ted and are always a welcome addition to the day - you just don’t know what they’ll do next - crazy little ojeni’s.

Spo | March 9, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi

March 8, 2007

Top of the evening to ya Amigo…….

Last Thursday we drove out to Mulanje to walk the golf course with the tea guys and drink a beer per hole (13 holes) - dusk was setting in over the Gargantuan Mulanje Mountain - a truly awe inspiring African Ayres Rock imitator - and the course is set upon it’s foothills.

Despite the clear blue sky, the Moon was making it’s appearance and the clouds were settled upon the beast of stone before us - there was a moment when the end rock was wearing a sombrero upon it and I snapped it with the Nokia.

God I wish I still had that Panasonic DMC FX8 that I bounced off the floor of Gecko - it’s making it’s way to UK via DHL to be fixed and returned. Until then, seeing as the local store, GAME, is a bit useless and overpriced, I’m either using the Nokia camera phone (as per shots above) or the clickers of others that I can beg and steal the SD cards from (as per recent wknd).

Problem is there’s too much out here that’s click-worthy though - I love that camera and want it back in my paws as soon as possible.

Spo | March 8, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi | Pictures

March 6, 2007

Gecko Girls, Good Times……..

What can I say? well I’ll quote some random girl at 2am - “I’ve lived here for 4 and a half years and this is the best fucking party I’ve ever seen at the lake - you people are fucking amazing” - that says it all I think.

My previous intention to drive up to the lake “bright and sparky” early on Friday was foiled by the fact Lauren and I had spent the previous night drinking and dancing in Blantyre until 4am - I’d crashed (to bed) at 430am and was up again at 7am to get organised and go fetch her from having breakfast with her father - something that had seemed pretty important the previous evening as she hadn’t seen him for a while - upon arrival no one at her place thought she was even at the house - still half wasted from the previous night I stumbled through events in reverse and muttered “well..... I thought I brought her home....” as I stared off into the distance hoping a spark would ignite my memory and I’d remember exactly where I’d left her - I mean, someone says you are at their place and they get out and walk to the gate, you wave goodbye and hit reverse for home - you don’t hang around to make sure that they haven’t got out at the wrong house - they are the one that told you to stop there.

Obviously her parents didn’t seem too impressed with the whole “I thought I brought her home” statement.

Luckily the cook appeared, assuring everyone that she did in fact come home and that he’d been woken at 4am by her drunken bumbling attempts to get past a locked gate and find another way in - he’d helped her out and she was now in the spare room - I made an attempt to try and convince everyone that perhaps it had been more like 2 or 3am - but the cook assured all present it was definitely 4am - I thought to myself “cheers for digging my hole a little deeper my friend”.

Lauren appeared - has to be said - looking all for the world like someone who had been dancing on tables and drinking until 4am - and to be honest I guess I wasn’t looking much better - not a great set-up for a meet and greet the folks before a 3 or 4 hour drive to the lake and the beginning of the long wknd to end them all.

Never the less we collected ourselves and got on the road to go collect the Gecko Girls from Zomba - Abbi, Ziggy, Kate and Rose - Paul and John ahead in another car meant we had the room for all. After a few beer stops we arrived at the lake around 11 or 12ish and plans were made for the Saturday night that was brewing.

You see we’d heard of a bar up the beach that was planning a big party that night - it didn’t take us long to make a plan and that plan was basically: flier advertising around the bars of Blantyre, giving the heads up to all we know, getting the night mentioned on the local radio, Gecko girls serving a happy hour of half price drinks, as many shots of potency as possible, bar dancing, I-tunes playlists set up on the computer linked to the speakers and making sure we were stacked up full of every alcoholic drink we could think of.

We knew it would blow the other party out the water, but we didn’t expect the amount of people that actually turned up - apparently it was bigger than new year - there was around 150 people I think, maybe more - you can’t see from the pictures as we could only take a few from early on around the bar - there’s better ones to come from a guy called Dave’s camera that really show how big a night it was - as Paul said, it’s a team effort to keep things running smooth when it’s like that - in a bar of the size of Gecko, which usually accommodates 30 or 40 or so on the average busy Saturday, you need everyone on top of their game - Levi and John gathering empties and sorting lamps and ashtrays, the professor and the guards keeping regular checks on the toilets, Paul orchestrating everything from making sure people had Mozzie spray sitting out on the beach to the bar having small change notes, the girls working the bar and getting people dancing, Anton overseeing everything with Ronald working his socks off to back the girls on the money and drinks side with clean glasses and stocked fridges - not a usual thing to find a bar in Malawi that actually has it’s shit together for such an event.

Special mention has to go to the Gecko Girls - an hours worth of training in the afternoon to get to grips with prices and where things are - they ruled the roost and got things moving when things began to pick up from 7pm onwards - through happyhour at 8 to 9 and then continued to keep the vibe of the evening going from there on in. Kate was Queen and continued on after the happy hour was through - but all four played a great game - even once the Po10C took over - Abbi suffering big time the next day, praying to that white porcelain god and Ziggy forcibly removed from drink serving duties by Kate when it was evident her special blend of chaos and destruction would be of more benefit to the other side of the bar where people where dancing, rather than where money was changing hands and glass was flying around. Rose found her natural home atop the bar dancing all night easily last standing - and repeated the feat the next day staying up till 6am - girl got power.

Could of been the Po10C though.

Which, if you haven’t experienced such ojeni, is the Malawian Samsong - purple shots of power that light up the darkest of eyes and refuel the tiredest dancers - not totally sure what’s in it - all such things say caffeine - but when a drink such as this never makes it out of Southern Africa you do wonder whether the harsher inspections of the EU ingredient brigade have barred it from UK shores and the like - all I know is that if you drink Po10C all night, it’s not far off the same kind of wasted you get with that amphetamine fueled Thai Red-Bull and Samsong mix we indulged in heavily over in Ko-Phang-Nghan.

I couldn’t really appreciate how hectic it was due to being in my corner sorting the music - we’d paced the night with selections that blended well together and every tune was hitting it’s mark for about four or five hours - there was still some intervention required - such as when the Hen party needed some stripper music and it took me less than a second to throw in Stevie Wonders “Superstitious” - generally we just plucked the best from 25GB of music and changed it about to suit what was working - songs of the night being Jamie T’s Calm Down Dearest and Gnarls Barclay’s Smiley faces” & Magic Numbers “Take a chance” along with notable crowd pleaser’s the Killers, Kaiser Chiefs, Arctic Monkeys, Faithless, The Strokes, Razorlight, Foo Fighters, The Kooks, The Dears, Raconteurs, Libertines, Finlay Quaye, OK-GO, Bloc Party, Snoop Dogg, OutKast, Beyonce, Kanye West mixed with old classics from the Tribe Called Quest, US3, the Stones, Beatles, Jackson Five, Jimi Hnedrix, Paul Simon, James Brown, Isley Borthers, Kool & the Gang and some less well known funky stuff like Mr.Scruff, Thievery Corp, Rae & Christian, Nightmares on Wax and some local Kwasa Kwasa which really makes people shake their ass.

However, around 1 or 2 am it was evident people were still dancing and wanting more, the playlist created earlier was easing towards a slower state of play - this was not really the time to have to engage brain due to the vast quantities of vodka, Po10C, Jack D I’d consumed - also the generally exhausting nature of concentrating on a computer screen while jumping around the bar area for the best part of five hours actually does take it out of you a bit - suddenly being required to zip around with the mouse find and drag and drop that exact track from library to playlist all within the time of the track that was playing was not quite so easy anymore.

Folk were also fairly wasted at this point and suddenly everyone has that track in mind you have to play and knows that their song is the one that all others need to hear - this is the part of the evening when being in control of the music becomes a curse rather than a blessing - this is the part of the evening when you just want to punch people regardless of whether they are towering South African monsters, babes of note or fucking idiots asking you if you have JJ fucking Cale for the millionth fucking time - who ever the fuck JJ fucking Cale is - I actually snapped at that point and had John throw him out - I remember saying it Pulp Fiction style as well:

Say it again - say JJ Cale one more time - go on, I dare you - say it one more god damn fucking time - I double dare you motherfucker - say JJ fucking Cale one more fucking time!
but you must have JJ Cale?
GONE! JOHN! HE’S FUCKING GONE! GONE I TELL YOU!

In the end I bailed at around 2 or 3am and let Anton take over with his special blend of Shaun Paul and that same fucking Mozambican song which he played four fucking times in an hour.

After final few more double-drinks with Paul to summarise and survey, folk drifted away and I passed out in a chair on the veranda - the lapping of the lake sending me to dream land in seconds - job done.

Though most definitely to be done again one day - for sure-sure.

Spo | March 6, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi | Pictures

March 1, 2007

So what does all that McGuffin linked on the side mean?……

The hit counters for this place are going through the roof and it seems there are currently between 200 to 300 visitors a day and around 6500 since I set up mid Jan - I only know this due to the info given to me by the expression engine program that runs this place - not many folk leave comments so I don’t know who is reading - but I suppose this is due to the awkward nature of the comment system which you get to via clicking comments at the end of each post - with the email address/word verification thing it’s not as instinctive as something like haloscan which I might be able to sort at a later date - however folk saying hello via email or the comments is always welcome (Hint! Anna, Cassie, Helen, Rona etc etc )

Anyways, it was brought to my attention by a few folk that many of the visitors are not too savvy with blogging and don’t take for granted what everyone else doing this type of thing reads as gospel - for example the headers you see up top there, “posts of past” & “recently” will bring drop down menus that allow you surf back to particular months / posts - this front page only displays the last 10 written so if you want to find something older from the last two years or so, you need to use the links.

Also each post has categories they fit into - clicking on one of these should bring up all the posts under that heading - furthermore, over on the left side-bar there, scroll down a bit and you can find the full list of categories available - eg: pictures.

If you want larger versions of some of the pictures shown you should click on the buzznet or flickr badges further down the left side bar - I’m also working on a way to allow this to work from the front page here - html coding that means I can upload photo’s to flickr and then link to the posted picture on the site before you so you get the automatic link by clicking on the photo in question - currently I use photobucket and that doesn’t do that automatically, it just provides hosting for the picture at the size you see here. The thing is that in a country with faster connection speeds or broadband uploading photo’s to websites is no prob, but here it takes a while to put pics up at speed rates of 52kbps and photobucket is quicker than flickr.

The links directly to the left are for ojeni I use on a regular basis and also what’s needed for accessing torrents and watching TV / movies online (if you got the speeds for it).

For example, when in the lands of the West I use u torrent for all my downloads - torrents being links to files that folk are sharing on the net and can be anything from anti-virus software with code packs, to the latest hollywood releases - you have to download and install the utorrent program and also tweak the settings using advice from reading the same sites FAQ and also using google to search for better tips on the programs performance.

Once utorrent is installed, any torrent link you click on will be opened and downloaded to your machine using this program - the question now is which torrents are the most reliable and trustworthy and how do you find them - for this I use either hypoh.com which basically reviews and links the latest quality movie torrent releases - or I use isohunt.com and look at the zietgiest to judge what’s fresh out there and popular - (tip: seeds are folk holding the whole file and leechers are those that are accessing it at that time - more of either of those = popular and therefore worth the download, possibly) - in general there’s a lot of ojeni to learn about torrents and googling such things will bring you more - this is just a quick overview to get you started with the basics - what I do advise is that anything you click on from Hypoh.com will always be the real deal and should move pretty quick in terms of download speeds.

Using ISOhunt.com’s search facility you can find pretty much anything you want due to the fact that the site searches all the other torrent sites out there - so if you want a certain film or album/artist use that.

Now then torrent downloads aren’t exactly how the industries envisaged how people would access their work - indeed if there’s a band I love then I buy the album (eg: new Bloc Party album weekend in the city) - but my I-pod didn’t get to 25GB of music (about 6500 songs/18 days of play) by exchanging hard earned moola for such ojeni. In order to keep relative anonymity online then I’d recommend using downloading P2P guardian and also hiding your IPaddress - as you never know who is watching.

Once you’ve got the files you want then I’d say you should use a program called Nero to transfer to DVD/VCD - if you use ISOhunt you should be able to find a torrent to install it for free that will come with a code generator so you don’t actually have to pay for it. There’s also the VLC player which you can install for free and will play any file type you ask it to on your computer - more useful than things such as windows media player and Quicktime etc. If you need DVD covers for the disc’s you’re burning then there’s a pretty simple search and set up site here. You can now say goodbye to paying for cinema tickets and the latest album releases.

Now for TV and movies online the best site is AddictiveJunk.com as these types of sites usually get shut down and moved around a lot, but this link always lets you know where they’ve moved on to - and there’s also allucTV and MahTV as well. Obviously you can use youtube and daily motion as well - but getting the videos on to your computer is a different matter - for this you can use this for youtube and this for everything else.

I think the rest of the links are fairly self explanatory - I move around a lot so it’s a way for me to carry the links with me where ever I log on - including those of for fellow freinds and writers like Eric and Raspberry which you can find via the ports of call at the top right.

Right - lesson over - I’m now going to go fetch Lauren and head over to the planters club in Mulanje where the tea folk go drinking every Thursday - then bright and sparky at around 8am (well depending if there’s a hangover involved or not) we’re driving into the loooonnnnnngggg wknd at the lake - Friday through to Monday at Gecko - I’ll try not to drown and keep the bar tab the right side of reasonable..... but it is four days so.....

Spo | March 1, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Film / TV / Music | Ojeni | Tech Tips | Videos & Links

February 28, 2007

Who is more foolish, the fool? or the fool who follows the fool the wrong way down a one way street?

I really have to start taking notice of things like road signs and traffic lights - last night was the second time in two days I’ve driven up the wrong way down the Limbe one way system - although I do love the open mouthed expressions of the folk passing by, I appreciate it’s not something I should find entertaining.

The thing with driving in the third world is that I really am perfect for it - I can drive through red lights, rear up on to the pavements, overtake on corners and generally ignore the rules of the road and other drivers - that’s how I drive out here as that is how everyone else drives out here - reverting back to the norm in the Western world is impossible once you’ve enjoyed the freedom of making up the rules yourself.

Of course rules are there for a reason - like one way signs - and I’ve always said, rules are more for the guidance of the wise and the obedience of fools.

But I think this is a phrase that should apply more to such things as drinking licensing hours than driving.

Spo | February 28, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi

February 26, 2007

Malawian Style Wknd…….

It’s been quite a weekend in the warm heart of Africa - Friday drinks in the Thyolo tea district ended with me driving back to Blantyre (about 50 or 60 km) around 8ish - I got caught in one of the fiercest rain storms I’ve ever had the misfortune to encounter - the rain flying horizontally towards the windscreen like a thousand spears - I could see about 2 or 3 metres in front of the car and that was it - I was driving eyes wide, looking like a rabbit in the headlights indeed - think it was part of the cyclone that has recently swept through Mozambique and arrived here announcing itself with torrential downpours and lightening that lit up the whole horizon across the valley - awe inspiring sight if you are sitting on the veranda watching the show - but driving into it inspires a little more fear and trepidation.

The the thing I like about the weather in Africa is that it’s honest - it gets things over and done with pretty quick - you know where you are with it - when it rains it really rains - none of that 24 hour not quite rain but not quite mist nonsense that perpetually falls upon English shores.

However, the force and power of an African rainstorm can be devastating and getting caught slap bang in the middle of such an event is definitely worrying because you see so much evidence of the after effects - huge sections of road just washed away and villages are submerged in seconds if built in the path of flood waters from the hills - combine this with the general uselessness of the average Malawian road user and running around in such conditions is a recipe for disaster.

Never the less after doing about 10kmph for 50 mins or so I’d escaped the worst of it and came out the other side - I headed straight to Paul’s and put a dent into his whiskey collection to calm the nerves.

Saturday morning and I was up bright and sparky to get back out to Thyolo and help out with the 4x4 rally taking place across the tea fields - all the tea planters get involved and there were around 15 packed cars entering - it all has a treasure-trail question and answer element to it, but essentially it’s go from A to B and try not to crash - which is a tricky thing after the rains of the night before.

The Gods were still bailing out the heavens when I arrived to meet Roy at around 8am, but it wasn’t as bad as the night before and i could see the road ahead of me - that was a vast improvement. I had been specifically told by the higher powers of my company that I was not allowed to enter the rally due to the expensiveness of the vehicle and my rather chequered history at the wheel - therefore I signed up for Marshalling duties meaning that we’d set up at the halfway point and see the cars through, checking times and distances etc - we would also be in charge of cooking up a storm on the Bar-B-Q and handing out the beers - the promise of which was kind of why I got out of bed at such an ungodly hour on a fucking Saturday to go stand about in a muddy field in the pouring rain watching insane folk drive 4x4’s around an impossible circuit - a large quantity of free beer and fried breakfast will make me do pretty much anything I guess.

I volunteered my car to take us to the spot and we loaded up the back with all the necessary and set off - I soon discovered that driving these muddy trails between the tea bushes is no easy task and as we headed over one hill and round a bend I lost it completely, as the car span to the right and we ended up suspended over the trail that was fast becoming a muddy river way beneath us. I jacked the beast into 4x4 and felt the power surge immediately - I had instantaneous grip and even the rivers of mud pouring around us proved no problem - scary thing is that you get too confident with such an animal under your control - the devil inside woke up and started to whisper in my ear that all this Colin McCrae-type monkey business was no problem at all - Roy was worried for his tea bushes around us, so I toned it down and returned back to reality - remembering the words of the higher powers about not crashing the company car and also remembering that we had nearly stacked it not five minutes before hand.

We set up at one of the leaf collecting points, but the bamboo roof was not going to keep either us or the cooking safe from the falling rain - we needed a Tarpaulin cover so I set off back to Roy’s and while on the way he rang to say I’d need to get the food as well - seems as though we only remembered the beer when actually setting out first off - after a bit of back and forth we got going and the morning shot past as cars came and went with drivers tales of woe and a few fuck ups ending in 90 degree right angle ditch malarkey.

The afternoon was spent sitting out in the sun watching the final stages back at the sports club where the field had been turned into a 4x4 assault course - drivers with a bucket on their head are navigated around by their co-pilot as they try and stay within the lines and keep the car upright when trying to take the sharp corners across the grassy verges. The course ended with a giant pine see-saw where the participants have 3 minutes to balance the car level for 15 seconds - with cold beers in hand it doesn’t matter how many times you see someone attempt this feat - it never gets dull.

From the surounding forest the crowd of villagers cheered their appreciation as a white Toyota held true for the 15 seconds required - subsequent later attempts didn’t get close - though this could be due to the amount of alcohol consumed by then - drinking since 9am, I had difficulty getting a sense of balance just walking to the bar, never mind trying to balance a giant 4x4 on a humongous pine see-saw.

I bailed to Paul’s for the football as dusk began to fall - record timing of 30 mins from Thyolo to Limbe still didn’t stop me missing the first two Liverpool goals - but two more came our way as well as Sheff Utd were thumped 4-0. Achemwene John was in residence and once Liverpool’s victory was sealed, we headed to Jungle Pepper Pizza to grab the munch necessary to see us through the next game - on the way he asked after Debbie and I told him what had taken place when we met and that over the last week I’ve rcvd three more txt msg’s from her as follows:

• A poem telling of how she still declares undying love for me.
• Two days later asking if we could still be friends.
• Two days later telling how she has a boyfriend from Italy visiting and asking if I’d like to meet him.

Good looking she may be - but shithouse rat crazy she definitely is.

Anyways evening was drawing in and I was beat - though I was at that level of drunk to want to carry on despite the lack of petrol in the tank - I headed back to get changed and go find a place to get into trouble - I lay my head for a moment to think about a plan and before I knew it Sunday was upon me.

Sunday was heading in the direction of the usual mix of whiskey, banter, football and failing to chalk off any number of things upon my list of items to take care of - such as buying a new TV to replace the one that blew up a week or so ago and a camera to replace the one I bounced off the Gecko lounge floor at gone past 1am when coherence and co-ordination had left the bar.

GAME, the South African superstore that has set up shop in Blantyre, had a sale on - a 10 mega pixel beautiful Samsung Digital camera was on offer reduced to around $480 - but unfortunately it was a Malawi style sale so the conversation I had the other day went like this:

Me: “Is the Sale advertised in the paper on today?”
Roderick the useless smiling sales assistant: “Ah, yes - it is on - certainly”
So the this camera reduced to 68’000 is available?
Ah, no - not that one - sorry
Oh - so is it coming in soon?
Maybe sir, maybe....
Perhaps not until the sale is finished, right?
Maybe sir, maybe....
Are any of the items in the sale actually on sale?
Some, maybe not all - but certainly there must be some....
So can you find out if this camera will be delivered soon? and maybe I can pay for it now at the sale price?
Ok sir - I will check for you

Roderick now disappears for something like 15 minutes - when he returns, strolling at a leisurely pace, he smiles and explains as follows:

You see the problem is this - we have this camera on stock - we have five of those camera’s upon this system for stock we have here
Ok - so you do have the camera?
Ah, no.....
Sorry?
You see the system says we have them here - but no one here knows of where these things are inside the warehouse - so therefore we cannot order more of them as we have not sold the one’s we have got
Even though you don’t actually have them?
Yes - that is correct - we have to sell those camera’s first to order more - but we don’t have them - so we cannot order more of those camera’s
Yes - I see
Yes, sorry for that.
Hmmm.... yes indeed

As I said - it’s a Malawi style sale - selling items they do not actually have nor can order for you either.

Five of these Samsung camera’s costing 68’000 each at current rate of 139kwch to the USD$ - that’s nearly $2500 worth of stock - and they don’t know where any of them are - and they don’t really seem to care that much either - meaning that someone does know where they are and they are probably smiling as wide as Roderick - except they are probably smiling for a $2500 style reason where as Roderick was smiling because he probably has some serious mental problems.

So Sunday Paul and I had headed over to his folks who have this beautiful House up on Sunnyside full of African artefact’s and a huge garden like a rainforest - I tried to sort out a blog site for the Malawian History Society Paul’s mother works for - something hampered by my Whiskey intake unfortunately - everyone seems to be holding real quality blends around Blantyre and it is difficult to refuse.

Later during the Carling Cup final Scuba Shack Lauren called out the blue at around 7pm - she’d arrived in Blantyre and wanted to be collected for drinks and gibber - I duly obliged and after Paul had retired late on we headed into town to try and find bars that were still open.

Lucked out with only one place called Twigger still just about open for serious Sunday drinkers like ourselves, so as the night headed north of 12 we took a turn to the pool back at my place...... Castle Beers in the fridge...... luck looked up again.

Need to catch up on some sleep tonight I think.

In fact with the Long Lake Weekend approaching I should be stocking up on sleep all week.

Spo | February 26, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi

February 22, 2007

Get up and Gecko……

Spo | February 22, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi | Pictures

February 21, 2007

Don’t stand so, Don’t stand so, Don’t stand so close to me……..

Late Saturday night a Dutch Girl called Wil wanted a cut-off 2 litre bottle of water so she could fill it with paraffin - Gecko lounge has a thatched rood and general wooden related tomfoolery all around it - paraffin is not it’s friend due to the whole flaming ball of fire connotations that spring up when such a word is mentioned - so inquiries as to what this paraffin was for led to her explaining she was a fire dancer and needed to have a bucket sized ojeni to dip the block-ojeni into - this would then be set on fire and swung around her head and body attached to ropes.

Hmmmm...... how about “no fucking way what so ever???”

I remember going to some sort of really fucked up circus display in the North of Vietnam one time - they had these little Ewok women doing various acrobatic trapeze manoeuvre’s while suspended over the crowd below - swinging around with the rope attached to something they could bite down on so they were free to use their arms to spin a ridiculous amount of hula-hoops around their bodies - quite a sight - even more so when one of them set fire to the hula-hoops and started swinging about the place.

Awe inspiring as such things are - you do appreciate that it’s not exactly a safe situation - if it was the Cirque de Soleil or some shit you’d be confident nothing was going to go wrong and can watch wide eyed as the performance unfolds - but when you are in the back end of beyond of North Vietnam and some dodgy $2 circus show suddenly starts setting fire to trapeze swinging hula-hoopers it puts you on edge for your own personal saftey.

Same deal when sitting on the shores of Lake Nyasa and a half drunk Dutch lady with a funny hat says she needs a bucket of paraffin so she can start spinning flaming blocks on ropes around the place.

So I told her to go stand out by the lake shore and nowhere near anyone or anything that could possibly go up like a tinder house and then she could set fire to herself in peace.

But fair play to her - she really did know her shit when it comes to dancing around amongst spinning trails of fire - impressive indeed.

Even more so when we saw the shots where I left the exposure open;

Spo | February 21, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi | Pictures

February 20, 2007

Gecko Sunset tours……

For this you will need:

•1 x Nifty Gecko Speedboat with decent amount of petrol to scoot around the bay - check.

•1 x Worldly Wise Master of Lake Nyasa waters - check.

•4 x Damn fine looking English teachers aged 18-22 years - check.

•1 x Cooler of Carlsberg Green - check.

•1 x English Chunky Butler willing to sit on nose of the boat for picture taking opportunities & keeping the nose down when Worldly Wise Gecko master decides to boot the Speedboat into overdrive - check.

•1 x Std. Malawian Sunset - Zooalookalowa Bwino - check.

Spo | February 20, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi | Pictures

February 20, 2007

Do not underestimate the powers of the Lake-side….

Back, but not burning brightly - this last weekend did indeed take it’s toll - I smile at the memories, but not the cost.

An all time record 2 day bar tab of 22 grand (around $170 which is slightly extravagant for Africa) , 1 broken $500 camera, 1 broken set of Rayban shades (knock off cost in Vietnam $2 - but to replace out here....) and I nearly drowned.

There were sunset boat trips, fire juggling, four beautiful English teachers, drinks such as the Kampango Banger & the Malawian Russian, Kwasa-Kwasa music leading to dancing on the bar again, all round general debaucherised drinking till 830am, near miss of large fucking Ox + front bumper incident on the drive home.

The above shots show the lookout from the bar lakeside first thing Saturday morning - looks like glass - a peaceful serene setting indeed - all you can hear is the distant chatter of the village awaking and the birds in the tree’s - there wasn’t even enough energy in the water to lap at the shore.

Once I got past the usual point, I felt like I could’ve easily kept on going - wasn’t tired at all - I headed on further out and I figured that I’d swim over to Thumbi and then, if I was shattered, I could just rest on the beach until I was ready to come back again or hitch a lift with one of the boat tours.

Around 600 or 700 metres out (halfway or so) I thought the sensible thing to do would be to head back to shore and then judge it that way - thinking being that if anything went wrong I’d be closer to people rather than further away - the water wasn’t quite so calm where I was at that time and although it wasn’t exactly breaking waves, I was still feeling the pull and throw of the waters tide rising and falling more so than closer to the shoreline.

I checked over far right and lined up with a boat to judge my position and then began to swim back to Cape McClear and Gecko - which up until then I hadn’t realised was quite so far away - then after five minutes or so of casually paced swimming, I looked across again to see how far I’d moved.

I hadn’t moved at all.

Apart from drifting further left towards the channel of the Cape leading back into the heart of the lake.

At first I just figured that I wasn’t swimming hard enough or perhaps I’d got my bearings out - I pushed a bit harder and that’s when I felt the current I was stuck in - and that’s when I began to panic a bit.

Well began to panic quite a fucking lot actually.

Usually there where fishing canoes criss crossing around this part of the lake, but there was nothing in sight - calling back to shore wasn’t an option as I was too far out - it also wasn’t like there where Bay-watch style lifeguards sitting around the place - the girls where already up and looking out from the bar veranda - I’d waved as I swam out - but waving now would not really of helped as they would of just waved back again and gone back to hangovers and breakfast - I knew that as far as getting anyone to help me out went, I was more than a little bit fucked.

The problem with a realisation like this is that you start to breathe too quickly and you’re blood starts rushing around getting it’s freak on - this leads to you getting tired faster and there is even less chance of pulling out of the current you’re stuck in - which is all very well to know as I sit and type - but when you are just drifting out to the big blue yonder and have no idea how to stop it happening, such knowledge does not really battle to the forefront of your thoughts.

This is because the word “Fuck” is in it’s way.

Stuck on repeat.

So panic set in and swim as hard as I could I did as that was the only answer to the situation in hand.

I pulled out of the current after a while, but once I had, I was fucking shattered - which meant the swim back to shore had now doubled in terms of the effort I had previously thought necessary - I’m far from being the worlds fittest fellow as well - and judging by the mess I’d gotten myself into - far from having the worlds sharpest mind too.

Obviously I got back eventually as I type this for you now - but at the time I was thinking I’d really taken a stroke too far.

Upon return I crawled up the beach and lay flat out on the deck before Paul breathing heavily - twas then that he told me of my foolishness and how many people he knew had underestimated the lake before us - how the current around Thumbi island circles the bay and then drifts out through the channel and out into the blue - that if you stand up on the veranda and look hard you can see the channels with the movements of the water and variations in colour showing the diversity of the depth - Id-jot me just stares out in the distance and thinks it’s a giant swimming pool.

Lauren scalded me later telling how when she’s diving she can sort of see the currents down there and put her hand in to feel the strength of flow - always strongest where the depth drops off and the cold water is rising up - leading me to remember those turtles rushing around the seas of the world in Finding Nemo.

All in all lesson learned - don’t underestimate the Lake.

And as Paul advised - when swimming, left to right along the shore is a much safer option than out into the big blue yonder.

Spo | February 20, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi | Personal | Pictures

February 16, 2007

Time to drive to the lake……

Spo | February 16, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi | Pictures

February 16, 2007

Another Line Drawn…..

Have to be honest and say I don’t feel too good about myself this morning - had a night out yesterday which was one of those evenings where you walk in a place and everyone I saw had not been before me for the last 7 years - the likes of Artist Dave, High pitch Kerry and fly-boy Steve, shit talking Ahmed Bapu and of course Debbie.

She’s still got it but there’s deep, deep sadness in her eyes - every story is one of hardship and all around are passing away - every date they left she remembers - latest being her sister aged 19 - she had been saying that she’d held on to the idea of me coming back one day and carrying on as we were from when I left 7 years ago - I mean I was 22 going on 23 and the first time out the country - fall in with a beautiful girl and it was all about wide eyed wonder and kumwa ndi Kovina (Drinking and Dancing).

I was never going to come back the way she wanted - I think she genuinely held on to the hope that it would all be ok and I ride to the rescue - crazy phone calls and letters aside I’d not seen her for about 7 years - last contact was really when I left for Vietnam back in 2003 and she couldn’t track me down again.

She says she was.... is.... in love - but I think that’s in love with the idea of a better life and that’s what I represented - I mean I was a nice guy to her for those 5 or 6 weeks - and it doesn’t seem like many guys have been too good to her over the last 6 years or so - South African guy knocked her about, near marriage fell through, attacked by three guys one night.... like I said she has all these stories and none of them have happy endings… but she didn’t know jack about me really - you can’t be in love after 5 weeks of just drinking, dancing, sex and smoking Mari-jo - there has to be at least one deep and meaningful conversation somewhere along the line and I don’t remember one ever taking place.

She says there was - in fact it is worrying how much she accurately remembers - reels off quotes, places and dates.

In the end I was lost in catching up with folk over the course of the evening, the drinks flowed and then I didn’t notice as people drifted off home - Ahmed and his cousin wanted to carry on and we agreed to meet at a place - upon arrival doors where shut, Ahmed was nowhere to be seen and then it’s Debbie and I just past 12 - so she stayed at my place and talked long into the night - I felt obliged to listen in a way - seemed like she had a lot to say.

In amongst the tales of woe there were some unsettling indications she isn’t all there - I mean, life she’s had, stuff she’s been through, it’s understandable to be a little off centre - but the fights with people, boy friends houses she’s trashed, situations she has got herself into - slips in tales that indicate she’s not a person to have on your bad side because when it comes down to it, she really doesn’t give a fuck if she feels someone has done her wrong - I was treading carefully, I tell you that.

So I listened until around 2am and tried to go to bed.

That became an issue right there - spare room and mattress wasn’t really on her agenda - guilt tripping became the state of play - tears and tantrums.

Should never of sent her a msg that Friday night - Drunk me really has a lot to answer for.

Fuck I feel bad.

Least it’s done now - another line drawn - she said in the end it would of been better never to have met up again - that’s true - I really regret it - but from her side at least she now knows she should just move on, stop thinking about the possibilities all the time, reality check - she thought I’d been feeling angry all these years and that I’d been “in love” with her as much as her with me back then - when the truth of the matter was she was creating these scenario’s in her head and letting her thoughts run away with her - remembering all these little inconsequential details from when I was still more or less a kid in the world.

She said that not knowing for sure and hoping I would come back was at least a bright part of her day - even if it wasn’t ever going to happen - no need to take it away.

Don’t really know how to argue with that when everything else around her seems to be falling apart.

She said she would go back to Luchenza and gather her things and just disappear somewhere - talked of a guy in Uganda that stays in touch and wants to see her again.

I dropped her off this morning - traffic behind me didn’t really allow much time other than to say “look after yourself” and shake hands - she was expecting a lot more.

Spo | February 16, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi | Personal

February 15, 2007

I don’t do Spiders - anything but F**king Spiders…….

Living in the places I’ve lived I should be able to handle critters of all shapes and sizes - for the most part this is true - I’m not saying I will ever consider going on Fear Factor, nor am I saying that creepy crawlie ojeni flying thingies don’t make me wary of where I tread and lay my head - but I’ve eaten fried bee’s, drunk wasp whisky and I’ve had some fierce battles with over sized cockroaches (while sitting on the toilet) as well as being bitten by a million mosquitoes over time.

Then there was the Bear Bile Juice LSD style Whiskey in Nghia Lo, something unidentifiable in Bangkok, Goats Brains in Peshawar and Hanoi Dog restaurants.

And don’t forget I’ve drunk the still beating heart of a snake at the Hanoi Snake Restaurant

So obviously I’m not squeamish and I’m open to experience - you have to be if you don’t want to offend peoples cultures - at least try it to say you don’t like it.

The only thing I really regret is the dog restaurants - dog is fucking, putrid, chewy, dark meat that should not be on anyone’s menu - I don’t give a fuck how old the custom is or how fucking poor people are - dog should not be dinner - as Jules says “dogs a filthy animal” and as I’m telling you “it tastes fucking disgusting - don’t fucking eat it”.

But if there is one thing on this earth that will freak the living fuck out of me for forever more, it is fucking god damn motherfucking spiders - I have serious Arachnaphobia - I really really can’t deal with those horrible unpredictable, creepy, eight-eyed, scuttling, jumping, web crawling, nightmare-of-nature bastards.

Really.

I’m like all wide eyed frozen like Jeff Daniels trapped in the basement in the film of the same name (still can’t really watch that film without freaking).

I think it’s all traced back to finding one on my shoulder when I was in the tea fields in Kenya - just sought of saw it out the corner of my eye and it’s sitting there on my fucking shoulder! I screamed like a girl and nearly ran all the way back to Nairobi for fucks sake.

I know people are supposed to conquer their fears and folk say they’re harmless and you just need to let one crawl around on you to get over it (or some other crazy sounding form of get to know your enemy style shit) - but really - Fuck the Fuck off - I’m quite happy to keep on running away from the hairy eight-legged little freaks of evolution rather than start cuddling up to them when I go to sleep - I mean I can’t see any plus points to conquering the fear I have of spiders - the fear exists for a reason and that reason is that they are fucking dangerous and they are not of this earth.

THEY’VE GOT EIGHT FUCKING EYES FOR FUCKS SAKE - I mean what kind of creature needs eight eyes????!!!! EIGHT!!!!! and the other thing is that anyone that finds out I have really bad Arachnaphobia then then joyfully regales me with their own spider stories - and what with us being in Africa - EVERYONE has a spider story or ten.

Paul got chased around his house by an Elephant Spider which had the circumference of the average dinner plate, Mrs.Doran at Zoa tea had some sort of black hairy eight-legged monster attach itself to her right arm and her father had to burn it off with a hot piece of coal (a hot piece of coal for Fucks sake! what are these creatures!), Lauren at Scuba Shack keeps on going on about how you see them scuttling around on the beach at night, Roy was telling me that when he’s killed Baboon Spiders green blood comes out (Green blood for Fucks Sake! again I say what are these fucking creatures!), Maganga tells me of how certain spiders here just don’t have a Chechewa name as they are too grotesque for words and are simply referred to as “the unknown” - Sweet Jesus Ringing the Bells of St Christopher!

With it being rainy season this is when they come out of the forests and down from the tree’s and head for the warmth of peoples houses - imagine! your whole fucking house surrounded by the things! as they slowly creep their way towards your place - inching over the grass and looking for any possible entry point.. AyYiYi… evil creatures.

When I went to Roy Crawfords place out in Thyolo and was sitting in the front room having a beer when I got bitten by a termite - instant reaction is to flick it off and stamp on it muttering about how “I thought that could of been one of those feckin spiders” - which leads obviously on to spider stories and general mickey taking (as everyone else living in Africa and Asia seems fairly at ease with the heinous accidents of evolution) - and then he commented that I shouldn’t go back out the way I came in - inquiring as to why, he told me to go and have a look at the roof of the porch :

Now I know they aren’t the greatest photo’s in the world but I was hardly hanging around to zoom in check the contrast etc - there were fucking shit loads of spiders up there! all those little white bits you see were fucking tennis ball sized nests while that big black ojeni thing was one of the main boys and about the size of my hand - they were fucking dropping down and spinning strands all over the shop - the whole porch roof was COVERED in spiders and spider webs - it was like this was were all spiders come from - it was all I could do to glance up and hold my gaze for a few seconds and refrain from rushing off to find something to burn down Roy’s entire house.

They were scuttling and running around and all kinds of things - fucking horrible, nasty, fucking creatures.

I couldn’t believe his whole fucking porch was one giant fucking spiders nest - “it keeps the mosquitoes out” - YEAH?!?! well that’s all very well but what the fuck keeps the fucking spiders out?????!!! Harsh Fucking Language???!!!

Which brings the age old response of “they’re just as scared of you as you are of them” - people that say these sorts of things should be taken out and fucking shot - spiders are not fucking scared of me at all - they’ve got fangs, they jump, they scuttle, they creep, they make messy web type shit to trap your face in when you walk between tree’s and bushes, they have poison in them that makes you swell up like the fucking Hindenburg and they’ve got EIGHT FUCKING EYES!

Eight of them.

Eight.

Why the fuck should they be scared of me when they’ve got that array of scary-assed shit in their locker?

Fucking Spiders.

Spo | February 15, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi | Pictures

February 14, 2007

And all you see is where else you no longer want to be…..

It’s always been the way that where ever I’ve ended up, I’ve always been looking off ahead at the next place on the horizon - even in Vietnam, a place I look back on with fond memories that provide a hundred stories, I was looking at the next time I’d get back to UK or where I’d be in two to three years time - everywhere I’ve been lucky enough to happen upon since leaving Malawi in 2000, I’ve always been looking round the corner - instead of around at where I was actually standing right at that moment in time.

Wanderlust I guess - never really settled anywhere - had my moments - Saturday afternoons in bed with Hanh certainly felt like home - may have had more of those moments if I hadn’t been staring off into the distance - seems like what you really want is right there in front of you and you don’t see it at all - it just isn’t in your field of vision until you look back on it. 

And all you see is where else you could be.

I have the msgnr running in the background first thing in the morning - she comes on line every other day and we talk when tea allows and the time difference window is still open - there’s the usual banter, the reminiscing.... leads to things getting heated in a good way.... and then there’s cooling off with talk of work (she works for my company in Vietnam now) and her day to day with the baby - I don’t really ask too much about married life and she never really asks about my situation with whom where-ever..... until the other day when I tried to casually drop in the details about the girl in Indonesia.

She says I never mentioned before, I pleaded ignorance, that I thought I must of alluded somewhere along the line - but I knew I’d never told her I moved on - her situation is that an arranged marriage mapped out the rest of her life before I could take a breath - breathe in - she’s married and a baby is on the way - breathe out.

I mean talk throughout time since then has always been about the day in the future when I would visit - clandestine meetings along the lines of Saturdays in the second floor bedroom of No.19 on 20 - playing along that in the end the situation will be as clear as Lake Nyasa waters - she gets a passport - grabs the kid and next flight to where ever - I meet them at the airport and we all go off together in a new direction - I mean I never honestly thought that would be the case - it’s easy to say and you can see it all playing out in your head like a movie - but the details...... don’t know how the details arrange themselves… they don’t really.

Monday I found that it turns out she thought the same - that it’s ok to play along and talk the talk - imagine it working out like a movie script - gloss over the details the way Hollywood script writers suspend your disbelief by moving things along as quickly and smoothly as possible in order so that you don’t take a step back and say “wait a minute...... she’s a good shot for someone who’s never fired a gun before and how’s he know how to fly a jet plane if he’s from another planet?” - except here it’s “yeah, you’ll just get a divorce, we’ll sort out a visa, I’ll meet you at the airport and then your son will grow up where ever we are and the colonel type arranged marriage husband fellow will just be cool with it all, your family won’t disown you, we’ll find you a job that needs a Vietnamese translator and we’ll all live happily ever after” - but yeah, in reality she never really thought it was all possible either.

So it kicked in on Monday morning and in-depth discussions about the monogamy, faithfulness, love, sex, marriage, lust, denial and different cultures took place - although when ever have such discussions been anything other than in-depth? - it all ended with her telling me to grow up, get married, have kids and be happy with someone else.

All of which I understand and appreciate - all of which I understood was necessary a long time ago - all of which I’ve seriously thought about when it comes to Yuni in Indonesia and other near-miss almost-relationships with girls you meet where sparks fly but time and circumstance are against you - but I think that I’ve always avoided getting this deep on such matters with her as I held on to the far away thought that Hanoi Saturdays in the second floor bedroom of No.19 on 20 would some day be a possibility again - that I knew it wasn’t really possible doesn’t mean I wanted to read the words saying as such - more comforting to play along I suppose.

Truth of the matter is that despite those Saturday afternoons and the times I raise a toast and tell myself I should of married that girl, I was always still looking around the corner none the less.

We both signed off and the day takes you - later I reflected after the event and it feels good to finally draw a line under the whole relationship - especially now I’ve come back to the country I’m never looking beyond the horizon of.

Now I’m back here it all just feels like journeys end and the beginning of the rest of my days....

I’m supposed to fly back to Holland June 28th - two days after turning 30 - and for once I keep trying to forget I’m leaving a place rather than staring at the X marked on the calender that indicates departure.

More on that a different time.

Today I just raise a toast to No.19 on 20.

Spo | February 14, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi | Daily Life - Vietnam | Personal

February 13, 2007

Gecko Getaway….

Headed out last Friday and I managed to make excuses and escape verk and arrive at Paul’s around 3pm - with each non-lake-residing wknd seeming something like a lost opportunity, I’m either going to end up being really creative with my reasons for disappearing (ie: “erm..... I’m meeting yet another tea producer for a game of golf” despite that producer never ever mentioning such an arrangement nor me knowing how to play golf) or I’ll just have to start being flat out honest (ie: “as no one ever achieves anything of note on Friday afternoon as far as business goes, I’m going to the lake now because I want to have as much time there as possible over the wknd and we can’t drive at night”).

The drive is fairly straight forward in terms of you get on the Zomba road and only really have two turns to make from that point onwards - however, it’s all the ojeni and unpredictable elements that make it a sharp journey - seeing other vehicles are a sparse occurance, so you can end up speeding too fast - when something springs up out of nowhere, accidents happen.

We saw the fresh fires of one incident as we headed through one of the smaller villages - a mini-bus had tried and failed to avoid one of the roadside kids and had then smashed into a corrola coming the opposite way - pieces of metal and blood all over the road - the kid with a half a blanket over him - snapshot of harsh reality you don’t shake from your eyes too easily - we reported it at the next police stop further on, but little could be done by then.

The other thing about the road over rainy season is that the flash floods coming down from the hills can take the road away - look at these shots from either side of one of the main bridges - this water is moving pretty quick and it’s just bubbling under the break of the bridge - half a metre more and there’s no surface to be seen:

Paul’s got the road in his fingers though - and signs such as brown water meaning fell in the last two hours are second nature to him - so when things aren’t looking too familiar up ahead, a drop in acceleration is the order of the day and steady as it goes becomes the motto.

Once we get further on past Mangoche we come to the almost 15km dirt track turning that takes you through the hills and bush to Chembe village at Cape McClear - no easy drive this part of the journey - but rewards for passing the test come in the form of cold beers and sunsets.

Before you know it you are laughing about pygmies late into the night while under the influence of Johnny Walker - which in turn leads to smuggest face competitions - all thoughts of the drive dissipated like the ice in the Whisky.

My turn to drive next though - don’t wish me luck - wish me the lack of needing luck in the first place.

In the end - if it’s the journey there and the road is out - that breaks your plans at the first hurdle.

But if it’s the return journey back - you just turn around, head back to Gecko and the wknd carries on.

Spo | February 13, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi | Pictures

February 13, 2007

Valentines Massacre…..

Here it comes and all the places in town have something cooking to celebrate - live bands, restaurant deals, cover charge bringing free drinks etc etc - and the persistent psycho ex is sending me text msg’s and missed calls on a daily basis now she has me tracked down (which is admittedly due to my foolish drunken error)..... but I did indeed promise to meet for a drink...... she is attractive and a very good dancer......hmmmm

But.

Last week she rang 10 times at 7.30am on a Wednesday leaving missed call after missed call.... then when I finally answered later on I was obviously far from impressed - I made it clear that though we’d meet up, it would be when time and money allowed - one missed call is enough - no need to keep hassling me - then later that week more and more msg’s about past times gone by and regrets, regrets, regrets (for behaving like a psycho back in the day).

Behaving like a psycho to apologise for behaving like a psycho.

It’s not Valentines date material really is it?

But she is very attractive.

And a very good dancer.

Spo | February 13, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi

February 12, 2007

Back to the Lake again…….

Spo | February 12, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi | Pictures

February 11, 2007

Still Alive…..

Richard came back to work last week - getting better by the day after nearly blowing his head off.


His right eye still needs a bit of work but it’ll sort itself out over the next couple of days or so.


All in all it’s a miracle.


Swear to Almighty I only noticed what it said on his T-shirt after I up-loaded the photo.

Spo | February 11, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi | Pictures

February 8, 2007

Re-living the Mozambique Adventure….

At the moment we are suffering from a chronic lack of trucks and trailers with which to move our teas - there’s a lack of return loads from South Africa for Malawi and truckers don’t like one-way journeys - this is coupled with the port of Mozzie Beira practically being brought to it’s knee’s due to a combination of broken equipment, poor facilities, bad roads and vessels refusing to dock - the place is a mess.

Nothing changes.

As ever when out for drinks I met Basil Malila last night - in charge of CARS a truck company based here in Blantyre - a character of note he’s getting on in years now but the drinks still flow freely and the stories are never ending - for example he once played international football for Malawi and managed to get sent off before the ref blew his whistle due to punching an opposing player at the halfway line at kick off - we talked of the current situation and led on to reminiscing about my time here back in 2000 and how he was also involved in putting me that truck for the fateful and eventful trip to Beira when mayhem pulled out all the stops and was very much in full effect.

The report I wrote at the time got sent around all over the place - when I arrived in Malawi back on January 13th 2000 I was green-gilled to the extreme but when I came to the end of my time I thought I was a seasoned veteran - the report showed I had still an awful lot to learn - at the end of the journey I certainly felt a lot more schooled in the fuck-ups and fall outs of the Dark Continent.

An intro to the experience can be found here - followed by a blog-posted version of the original report beneath it.

Certainly brings back some memories.

Spo | February 8, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi | Personal

February 6, 2007

Common-otion……

It’s common nature to have guards here - and weapons - Drew had an AK-47 in his place last time I was out in this part of the world - Basil Malila has chased robbers down his drive with a shot-gun, dressing gown flowing in the wind - Paul’s got a Walter Fucking PP-K in his place which he bought at the border with Mozambique and had to fire in anger as the invaders jumped back over the fence from whence they came - people living out of town with big houses and a bit of money all have stories to tell - it’s not South Africa and incidents are infrequent, but they are there - every once in a while.

Supposedly, when the gangs strike a house-hold, it’s usually out of town - money out in view evidenced by the cut off affluent surroundings - usually working from inside info given to them from staff as to what rich pickings are available - I remember an English chap out in Limbe telling me a tale of being barricaded in his kitchen having a gun battle while his house was ransacked and loaded onto a trailer - I figure the ferocious incidents are the exceptions - although, when you ask around, everyone has a little story to tell.

I pull in to the home around 7pm and dark had well set in - the outside main gate is pulled back and I drive in - as I come to a stop I see Common, the guard, hovering close by expectantly with arms behind his back - this usually means that there is something that needs to attended to in some way or form - change of days - advance of pay - somethings broken or a family member is ill with Malaria etc and money is required for treatment (like last week).

“boss I have left it at home - the key for guard room”
“Ok well we’ll see if we have a spare in the kitchen”

No joy

“Well maybe Beth (cook, head of house) knows where it is - i’ll ask her tomorrow”
“Ok boss”
“left at home” - doesn’t mean “lost” does it??”
“no - it’s at home - I see it there - but left it this time”
“right… so what’s in the guard room that you need? the torch?”
“yes - and panga”

Panga is a big-fuck-off great knife.

“So if people come what will you do?”
“If people come I maybe throw stones and pray to God”

Common doesn’t look confident when he says this.

“Right - OK well lets get you a knife from the kitchen then”

I get him the biggest Carving knife I can find - he seems reassured - big smile - it’s not a panga - but it’ll do I reckon.

I go back to getting out of the day just gone - long one on auction day Tuesday - followed with going to the store on the way back - women look at me there thinking I either live alone or I’m a really good family man that does the shopping - with a basket stacked with Castle Beer, pizza and Red wine I think it’s the former rather than the latter to be honest. I think about getting a shower, heating up the food that’s left out by Beth and stick on the I-pod through the speakers.

Then about 10 mins later there’s a tap at the window:

“boss two men are here - I press silent alarm”
“Eh? two men? where? inside the grounds?”
“not inside yet - they look over fence on the right”

Unlike all the other houses on this street I don’t have a neighbor to my right - it’s a maize field - means that there is more than the odd scare here apparently - people can lean over the fence and check out where the guards are, come in round the back or the front depending - although when Robin and his family were here there weren’t too many incidents - suppose that’s due to the fact that the house was full - noise - lights - more than a few pairs of eyes - now I’m here, I don’t get back till gone eight usually and I’m often out and about later on as well - not to mention totally absent at weekends - these comings and goings are always scouted - but then also so are the houses and the goods inside - and I live in a practically unfurnished place - got a chair and settee - TV and satellite and a bed along with what ever comes with the kitchen - that’s it - not really worth taking the risk for big stuff they couldn’t run off with - so I’ve never really worried.

Anyways - through the window Common explains that when he shouted they disappeared and ducked back down - but they may still be lurking about apparently, so he’s called the security.

That should be the end of the conversation - I should just go back to what I’m doing - worst comes to worst I’m locked in and there’s bars and padlocks all round the house - safest thing is to stay put obviously - stupidest thing is to get tooled up and then unlock the porch gate and go and have a look outside - which is what I did - reasoning being that I left the phone in the car and don’t have a land-line - I figured that if the most fucked up scenario did take place, then I’m pretty much helpless not being able to call anyone - so I decided to go get the phone after grabbing the next biggest knife in the kitchen after the one I’d already given to Common.

I couldn’t find my mobile in the car and remembered it must be in my trouser pocket back inside - Common was looking shifty - eyes darting around the place - I say to him:

“So the night you don’t have the guard room key - no torch and panga - is the night you see two guys looking to jump into the grounds?”
“Yes - I saw them there”
“Sure?”
“Sure”
“Sure-Sure?
“Yes boss - sure-sure”
“This happen often? people trying to come in here”
“Yes - Many times - it is the field - it is good for hiding - they can look over and see who is here and around”
“Fuck”
“They steal the taps and things around in the garden”
“Taps?”
“Yes - the taps outside - they take them when we are maybe go around the back place”
“not try and get into the house?”
“no - but maybe - if it is open some way - they quick - jump in and steal and go - back over that way” (points to maize field)

So then I realise the bizarreness of the situation - standing out in the drive, staring into the blackness of the field next door armed with kitchen knives to stop people stealing taps.

I look around and down at what I’m holding - I laugh and out loud I wonder to myself: “What the fuck am I doing out here? What the fuck am I doing with this? a fucking kitchen knife??” - Common looks at me and gives gruff laugh as well “Like Chuck Norris” he says - what on earth am I doing - like I’m going to use this in any way what so ever - Id-jot - I go back inside shaking my head and plan to cook some food and drink a bottle of wine.

Minutes later the private Security team turn up - full 30 mins or so after Common had pressed the button - they always remind me of the Romans running into that little house in “Life of Brian” - Lisa, girl who used to own the Millennium bar out near Chirimba and former girl friend at the time 6 years ago, she had a set-up like the one I have - press a silent alarm button and the 6 guys turn up in a little van and storm into the place - all dressed in black uniforms, holding weapons, wearing crash helmets with great big fuck off barking dogs going mental - we’d all be sitting around having a beer eating chicken off the Bar-B-Q - silent alarm would go off due to a malfunction - these 6 guys run in single file - look around - realise it’s a false alarm - and turn back to run out the way they just came in - used to happen about two or three times a week.

Common greeted the security folk like old friends - I had already suspected that Common kind of freaks out a lot and calls these guys out for no reason - this seemed to confirm it - never the less, they all go off running around the grounds with dogs in tow - then move on to the field next door - trampling crops and generally making a lot of noise - finding nothing as far as I could tell.

Before you know it, main leader looking type guy is back and smiling at me “thanks boss” he says and runs off back to his little security van - screech of tyres and they’re all gone again.

Thanks? for what?

Common looks happy.

“all better now boss”
“Was there anyone actually there?”
“don’t know - maybe - maybe...”
“Right”

Yeah, they were gone as soon as they saw I was on the case ready to get medieval on their ass.

Yeah right.

Spo | February 6, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi

February 6, 2007

Reality check…..

How can one country with such strong religious beliefs be subject to so much punishment?? earthquakes, tsumani’s, landslides, train derailments, plane crashes, ferries sinking...... are their prayers getting lost along with the majority of emails that go in and out of the Indo ISP Radnet??

Jakarta still seems to be 75% under water - the news doesn’t bring solace with talk of more rain to come and then the onset of disease due to lack of drinking water and the fact that Jakarta was already a filthy city to begin with - fill it full of water and all kinds of things come out in the wash.

The city is usually in a state of gridlock but now this is final and not much is getting about the place - more rain came last night apparently.

The estimate is that Jakarta has 9 million people - but who ever did the last head-count is probably forgetting that each time Ramadamadingdong comes around in Sep/Oct everyone goes back to their village and returns with a brother or two - I’d say it’s more like 12-14 Million - a lot of people to look after in times such as these - and as the eye-witness accounts say, the government is beyond useless.

I spoke to Yuni and found that her house was under 2 metres of water and all her belongings are pretty much done for - insurance doesn’t exist in these places so bank transfers are the order of the day as I type - there are electricity cables in the water - people have had no help for up to 4 days - a mother lost her baby two doors down and an old woman died of exposure near her mothers house - sign of organised government intervention is non-existent.

Straight away she got stocks of mineral water and kept her daughter from going swimming in the streets with the other kids - then she got her family together and headed 5km out of town - found a place up on a hill and rented it for a month even though she expects to be there for a week - her cousin has dysentery, her mother cut her foot and got infected, her father has a fever - she got them all to the doctors and everyone is Ok - seriously this girl should be running the rescue operation.

I said that in any circumstance were she is worried about her safety she should just take her daughter to the nearest hotel and I’ll foot the bill via credit card - but she jumped one better in renting the place out of the disaster zone - Hopefully the waters don’t keep rising and end of the week things settle allowing the clean up and rebuilding to take place - but with the Government currently in power I expect that to be a longwinded and drawn out process - never the less, with the money I’m sending she should be able to replace what was lost from her house - TV computer Bed cabinets clothes..... more or less everything that was in there was floating around the place.

Damn - I hope she hasn’t lost that little Rolling Stones T-shirt with the ripped knot slashes across the back......

But yeah - I am thinking - get on a plane - pluck her out of chaos - fly back to Malawi - get married - invest in Pauls bar by the lake - give up the tea trade - lakeside resort living for the rest of our days, running bars and boat trips with an Indonesian princess......

There’s plans such as these afoot - whiskey inspires a speed up in proceedings sometimes - but the reality is that while it’s something I’m really considering - I can’t jump into it for a few more years to come just yet.

Just hope that in that time Jakarta manages to stay in one piece.

Although even if it did come apart at the seams, I’d bet on that girl to find her way out of it.

Spo | February 6, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Personal

February 5, 2007

Mini-bus Mavuto…..

The drive to work involves heading out past the bus station beyond the hospital and on towards the Chirimba Industrial Estate - the majority takes place over a road that doesn’t have that many potholes and only a few areas to watch for random running children / goats and cyclists keep an ear out better than most areas.

The problem comes when you get to the Chichiri bridge - which for the moment does not exist - rebuilding work is taking place that I imagine I will never see the end of during my time here - you can see what it looks like below:

It’s been like that for a few months and not much has changed.

So what happens is that traffic approaching from the city side waits where a little man blocks the road with a barrel - then on the other side, another little man moves his barrel out the way and waves his out-of-town traffic through - they then drive down into the river gully and across a muddy-makeshift roadway supported by sandbags and up the other side - once across, the first little man moves his barrel, lets the out of town traffic through and then waves the city side onwards while the 2nd little man blocks off any further traffic from the out of town direction


pretty simple you’d think.

Until it gets to around 5pm - when all hell breaks loose and the little men are nowhere to be seen - and if they are, they’re just ignored anyway - the curse of the mini-bus driver comes to haunt during these times.

Mini-bus drivers are the scourge of Africa - they drive like amphetamine fueled F1 madmen in clapped out vehicles that are on the verge of exploding - they pack vans with as many people as possible and rush to the next possible pick-up - trying to overtake fellow mini-buses while they are at it - with cello-tape windows, doors falling off, plumes of black smoke pouring from the exhaust, no indicators, smashed windscreens and a very unpredictable nature due to stopping abruptly at the first sign of a possible fare (ie: person randomly walking near the road - of which there are quite a lot of)

The dream of the mini-bus driver is that no matter how many passengers as he can push through the door his death-trap will never be full and that he will always be the first to the next stop - this creates a sort of chaotic rally around Blantyre, as there are an awful fucking lot of these mini-bus mongoloids messing about all over the place causing all manner of mayhem - if there is a traffic incident of any description, it will usually have started or ended with a mini-bus in some way or form - they may not be at the scene any longer - but they will probably have had a hand in it somewhere.

So at 5pm what happens is Mini-bus drivers no longer want to wait for barrels to be moved or to give the sensible right of way to oncoming traffic - reason being that oncoming traffic is made up of fellow mini-bus drivers and therefore will always be oncoming unless they are restrained from doing so - this is when the mini-bus driver decides to go to war and push on through the muddy gully of doom regardless - which is very hard to do when it’s been raining for most of the day, there’s only enough room for one vehicle anyway and the person coming towards you is a mini-bus driver who is just as stupid as you are.

So what happens is around 40 mini-buses pile into the gully from opposite directions - get stuck in the mud - beep horns - shout - argue - and accelerate into any available space believing forward motion is progress and not in fact just ensuring they are going to be there for even longer - meanwhile everyone else realises that the mini-bus drivers have fucked the bridge up again - perform 3 point turns and try and find another longer route round.

Which sometimes leads to Lorries backing up and getting into impossible situations and blocking the entire road while getting stuck in the bush - like this:

So what is the answer??

Grow old and grey watching in disbelief as the next id-jot dives into the mini-bus melting pot down in the river??

Wait around for a few hours at the office for traffic to die down around 7pm??

Take the long way round and encounter even more idiotic Malawian Motor vehicle related Mayhem? (note that people walk home for the most part - and they walk in the road or ride bikes - and they are also not the crispiest crackers in the packet either, so you often nearly clip a few people by the roadside when things are busy)


No - you go the secret-secret back way through the jungle/forest area behind the industrial estate:

There’s only room for one and it gets very interesting when the rains have been - you really need the 4x4 for it as well - and nerve wracking as it may be due to the unpredictable nature of things popping up out of nowhere and other cars/trucks possibly coming the other way - (and the fact that I am not a good driver and shouldn’t be in control of such a vehicle) the 6 or 7 minute ride sure beats the hell out of sitting around watching Mini-bus Mavuto (trouble) for 40 mins before fighting your way through that fucking muddy gully.


Fucking Mini-buses - the motorised version of Mosquitoes I tell you - death to them all - the world would be an infinitely better place.

Spo | February 5, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi | Pictures

February 1, 2007

Miracle…..

I have to be honest - I didn’t hold up much hope - at the time of the explosion and all the chaos that went with you just switch to a different mode - everything seems instinctively methodical - once you get over the sounds and sights of the situation you just jump to the most logical next step - ie: get the fuck out of here and find a hospital.

Later I gathered my thoughts and all I was thinking was that having a wife and three kids and being blind in Africa was a shitty combination and that losing your eye sight over trying to mix chemicals to clean a swimming pool was thoroughly undeserved and shouldn’t ever happen.

Even though we arrived at Queens hospital pretty quick after the event, I thought we’d taken too long and lasting damage would be done - it looked really bad at the time - facial chemical burns are pretty fucked up - and the doctors assurances didn’t match the quality of the set up before me - I honestly thought Richard was well and truly fucked as far as the rest of life on gods green earth went.

But the gods were smiling that day - not smiling too wide however, as then it would never of happened in the first place, but fate had decreed a certain pattern of events were in order to lead to Richard getting his eyesight back - I saw him first thing Monday when I was back from the lake - up to then I’d seen him the Friday before and I’d heard assurances but still saw little hope - the half baked broken English talk amongst the guards back at the house was that he could see again and all would be Ok - but I still didn’t believe until I saw him after being discharged today - the left eye isn’t as strong as you’d hope - it works - but it isn’t the clearest - but the right looks like nothing ever happened - doctors reckon a week or two and the left will be back in action just as much - truly a miracle upon the continent that shows little mercy in such situations.

I paid the necessary and saw that he takes some days to recover properly - everyone is smiling again - you see it in the community outside around the houses on the street - everyone knows he’s going to be OK - there’s relief but more so there’s surprise - I was in Doogle’s bar the other day and met folk who heard the blast - no one could believe that he’s got his sight back.

Kind of weird when you piece together the path of fate - that I was home that day due to dodging potential tricky questions as the tax folk has scheduled to come to the main office - that I hadn’t set off to do the rounds and pay various bills just yet - that I got caught talking on the mobile just beforehand when if I hadn’t I’d of been on my way - there’s no phones in the house here or alternate forms of transport, so I’d of never known until I got back if I’d gone - the doctors said it was all a case of time and speed of treatment - another ten minutes and no chance - the man’s blind for life.

Fuck - that doesn’t bear thinking about - losing your sight is one thing - but losing it in Africa.......

Richard & his family were back at the house today - so happy to see he was Ok but still had a talk about what happened - first off being DON’T mix anything when I’m not here - even though you may have done it a million times, DO talk to the guy two doors down that said he knew what should of happened and how what took place was all wrong to begin with - and DON’T try mixing the same chemicals you already bought a second time round - take em back to where-ever or who-ever you got them from and make sure everything is as it should be, otherwise we are rewinding time and haven’t learned a thing.

In fact I’m sure there must be an easier way to do this kind of thing - he’s been following the same procedure (mixing Chlorine, acid and what ever) for a couple of years or so while the previous residents were here - says this is the first time anything’s ever gone wrong and that he was using the same stuff he’s always used - but something is rotten in Denmark somewhere - I had thought it was a sly one - that he’d taken the usual cash, but due to the change over of residents thought to buy something cheaper and pocket the extra - cynical indeed - but experience makes you so - however, all evidence suggests so far that this was one of those cruel twists of fate.

Basically in the end I just told him to be a hell of a lot more careful next time you are around situations that could potentially blow your head off.

Christ on a bike ringing the bells of St.Christopher..... if in doubt just leave it till there isn’t any.

Spo | February 1, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi

January 30, 2007

Engine Problem…..

.....  and the problem is that I am in control of it.

I don’t mix well with vehicles - many people know this - I know this - and the car they have me driving over here is a 4x4 Pajero monster - this thing is Humongous - and that is not a word I use lightly - it’s a fucking beast of note - the width, the length, the power - I’ve never been savvy with engine sizes, litre injections and all that Mcguffin - I don’t know much at all about cars to be honest - no idea how they work or how they do what they do - don’t know names etc etc - key goes in - you turn it - press pedals and buttons along with flicking levers - point it in the right direction and try and let people know your intentions - end of - but what I do know is that this is a powerful monster of a car and you can end up doing 150kmph without even noticing - and on the roads of Malawi that is very fucking dangerous.

So far I’ve busted the front tyre driving in that Friday storm - I’ve seemed to have managed to do something to the internal battery as well, invloved jump lead type situations and I am not someone you want around electrics and wires but we’ve got a new battery sorted now - and I’ve got to get the fan-belt replaced as that has started shrieking all over town due to me exerting the engine or something - but last few days I’ve got comfortable with the feel of the thing - where as before I’d worry about every pot-hole, every corner, every dodgy traffic light and all the make your own rules junctions - now I kind of know what I’m doing and am driving the thing with more confidence.

This is not a good thing however - thinking I’ve mastered the art of the beast when in fact I am still a mere kindergarten pupil has led to some rather heinous errors today.

First was pulling out too quick onto a main road - then regretting it, trying to reverse before crunching to a halt quick fast when I heard the horn of the guy behind me - petrified I was going to reverse all the way over his corrola and crush it like a coke can (although to be fair he shouldn’t of been tailgaiting and I did stop before actually doing any real damage - but that was due to his blaring horn I suppose)

Second was heading out tonight were the front and back left hand tyres slipped off the down hill road and into the drainage gulley - the road had worn away and I was trying to make sure I was as far over as possible due to a truck coming the other way - car jackknifed a bit and I nearly hit the truck side on but got my game back to straighten out and shoot on through - bit of a freak out though.

Then heading back from Limbe just now I lost my bearings, followed the wrong split in the road and drove the wrong way down a dual carriage way.

Yup.

This is the second time this has happened - the first being a slip road in Southampton and I still remember the aghast disbelieving faces of oncoming drivers as they passed before I did a quick U-turn and scampered back up the way I came - hoping no-one else was coming the other way.

Tonight wasn’t so bad as it was late and the road was relatively deserted - although you have to take into consideration the stupidity factor of the majority of Malawian drivers here (although obviously I am not one to talk) and the fact that even though I am attempting a three point turn facing the wrong way on a dual carriage way, this may not deter oncoming drivers from actually slowing down when approaching me as they would in UK.

It was pretty hairy though - just because it was dark and the road design was perplexing - I carried on a 150-200 yards or so before I figured it out - and then it was a case of..... could I make it to the end without anyone noticing????......

Doofus.

Fuck - it’s matter of time before that car and myself have a serious falling out isn’t it?

Spo | January 30, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi

January 28, 2007

Kumwa Ndi Kovina…….

It was just one of those nights that came out of nowhere - we were sitting watching the football and a the chalets were full with quiet types from Scotland and Norway - looked like a lazy evening ahead as the sunset (zooalookalowa) had burned it’s last.

Then 17 English teaching students turned up out of nowhere - majority of them fairly beautiful and between 18-22 - we got my playlists from the I-pod hooked up to the stereo - shots started flowing and before you know it the dance floor was packed and people were up on the bar - Anton switched to African Kwasa Kwasa music and the whole thing just took off and didn’t stop flying until the early hours.

Lake nights like these come out of nowhere and stay with you for a long time - the hangover the next day was one of my worst ever - but it was very much worth it.

We drove 4 of the girls home the next day - teachers staying in Zomba - promised to show them around and take them up every time the lake looks likely.

Which it does every other weekend to be honest.

Spo | January 28, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi | Pictures

January 27, 2007

Zooalookalowa Bwino!…….

This is what we saw from the Gecko lounge bar veranda just before the Saturday night really jumped up a notch and a packed place danced till the early hours - nights at the lake look like this every day.

Spo | January 27, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi | Personal | Pictures

January 27, 2007

Gecko lounge……

We made the journey up from Blantyre on Friday and were at Lake Nyasa in 3 or 4 hours or so - Paul drove and knows the straight road like the back of his hand - had it been me perhaps we would still be driving - although the road isn’t as bad as I remember it used to be 6 years ago, the rainy season brings flash floods that wash away entire sections of the tarmac in places - the water can rush through with enough strength to create metre deep pits in the road surfaces - never the less, with the king at the wheel it seemed like we were there in no time at all - just one or two sections where it all went a bit ski-Sunday and it seems like you are slaloming round the plot-holes - the drunk drivers drive straight as they say....

Upon arrival I was blown away to see the lake again - easily the most beautiful sight seen upon this earth by my eyes.

That first night we took it easy and I saw Anton (who runs the place for Paul who owns it - he’s got Narcolepsy and falls asleep everywhere but otherwise is sharp as daggers) for the first time in 6 years and met the other guys running the show - Levi and Rodney - good people who Paul knows and trusts for years.

Gecko Lounge

Central bar area and Veranda overlooking the lake to the left as you walk in - the right handside has a block for toilets and then and L shaped block that has two rooms with kitchen in-between (restaurant on site) - behind this there are two chalets that sleep up to 5 people each - dead centre there is the garden and beach front.

Gecko brewing up at dusk

side view bar

shoreline front view

veranda

tables

speedboat gecko

room middle corridor where the two rooms and kitchen are

two chalets all the way over to the right

Spo | January 27, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi | Personal | Pictures

January 27, 2007

Bar Bill……

Saturday

8 x JD’s
6 x Coke
9 x shots of Po-10-C
4 x absolute vodka
1 x water
7 x Carlsberg Greens
6 x JW black label
2 x 3 barrels rum

Friday

4 x black labels
1 x 20 benny hedgehogs
4 x JD
2 x coke
1 x water

15925 kw = 60 of your English quid Guv’nor

With prices like these, you can really create quite a hangover.

Spo | January 27, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi | Pictures

January 24, 2007

Arrived Africa…..

Indeed I am Africa but I am not yet sun burnt - I think I have finally learned from the many, many, many, times that the great god of fire in the sky has punished me for being too lackadaisical about the extent of his powers.

There have been a number of events so far though - notably earlier this morning when the gardener/pool guy Richard mixed the cleaning chemicals the wrong way causing what ever he was mixing (later revealed to be chlorine and acid) to explode in his face - one minute I’m eating mango’s by the pool - next a sound like a shotgun blast rings out and Richard is screaming for help with his eyes seeming like they had been burned beyond redemption - the two women who work here didn’t know what to do - chaos reigned for a minute before I got my bearings and decided that trying to wash his face is a bad idea as too much water and chemicals mixing may make it even worse - I bundled him into the Pajero and made a mad dash to the local hospital.

A combination of pot holes - not knowing how to drive my hoofing great car properly (I’d had it about 5 days) - not knowing the general direction of where the hospital was - and Richards screaming all conspired to make the journey a frantic rabbit in the headlights kind of experience - knowing that the faster you get this sort of thing seen to, the better chance of Richard being able to see again means you just kind of put your foot down and hope the obvious urgency of my erratic driving alerted people to get the feck out of the way.

We got to the hospital within 10 mins of the explosion and after being directed to drive round to the right section (they had a specific eye hospital), I was faced with a small reception room full of about 60-70 Africans all in various states of eye related agony - for a second I thought about waiting our turn - then I remembered Richard may never be able to see for the rest of his life and pushed in and politley as possible made a lot of noise - I decided that if people thought I was being a typical white colonial queue jumper while throwing my considerable weight around then so be it, Richard gets to see again.

Doctors got to him quick smart and said that they were still able to treat the burns in time and that he should be ok in 24-48 hours - I’m not optimistic though - it looked fairly fecked up to me - but apparently this was the best eye hospital/doctor in the city - the only better option being the private hospital further away and they use these eye doctors as well - their own coming every so often from SA so no guarantee that they would be there.

The reason I was at home this morning is that the tax people were visiting the tea office today and I am not supposed to be actually working here (I’m studying if anyone asks) - if I hadn’t been at home I think he would of been well and truly fecked.

After being bandaged up and led to a ward they made up a mattress on the floor - I waited with Richard while one of the guys from the office took one of the staff girls from my house to find Richards wife and get him some food / drink / change of clothes.

I’m sure nobody needs telling that local African hospitals are very, very fucked up places - there’s all kinds of wrongness going on in there - No ones got any proper beds and there weren’t many nurses about - everyone seemed to be looking after each other - so we sorted a private room were his wife can stay with him and he could get a bit of piece and quiet and perhaps a bit more attention.

The guy has a wife and three kids and is the sole earner - I have only just met him but he’s a kind friendly hard working fellow and shouldn’t lose his eye sight over cleaning a swimming pool of all things - being blind and poor in Africa is a nasty combination - fingers indeed very much crossed that the doctors words come true and he gets his sight back.

So that was today so far.

Tuesday I was in the auction and accidentally made a massive error that could of altered the price of low-grade teas on the international markets - luckily I was allowed to change my bid - the audible gasp from the room and the look of incredulity on the auction brokers face alerted me to the fact that I may have made a bit of a mistake.

Monday there was no electricity and I burned my foot on dripping candle wax that burned through the bottom of the candle holder cube thingy I was carrying about - that really really fecking hurts by the way, as a good globule of it burns it’s way into your skin before you get it off.

Weekend = whisky + football on TV + meeting old friends + finding bars again (no reunion with crazy ex-missus who told me she was dead “but not really” yet)

Friday last week we had torrential rain and storms and I rather foolishly tried driving to the next town across to see a friend of mine (the one that owns the bar by the lake) - again not being able to see very well due to weather, first time driving since Indonesia more or less and dodgy roads full of holes conspired against me and my front right tyre blew out - managed to struggle along to a petrol garage and organise some guys to get it fixed up - tyre was proper fecked though and has to buy a new one in town over the wknd.

Robin and his family (who were here before me) left on Thursday so I’ve only really had connections (crappy ones) since then due to the handover.

Off driving round the tea estates the next two days before going up to Paul’s bar by the lake over the wknd - judging from the last week it should be fairly eventful.....

Good to be back - no day is ever the same here - but that’s a good thing if nothing like what happened today ever happens again.

Spo | January 24, 2007 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi

November 26, 2006

Full circle…..

January 13th year 2000 I stepped off a small plane in chileka airport and made home in the city of Blantyre - Malawi's largest city of two that could be termed as such - and even then you are stretching - you think "city", you think sprawling metropolis of lit up skyscrapers, criss crossing gridlocked traffic, commerce on all corners - the proverbial giant human ant farm in overdrive - all locked into one corner of the world - vibrant, noisy, full of life - heaving at the seams with folk from all over going about their daily.

Blantyre is the exact opposite of that to the naked eye - for the foreigner observing, Blantyre has a triangle of three main streets, one hospital, one school, one supermarket of note, one or two restaurants, a couple of hotels and five bars - two of which are safe to be seen in - along with a nightclub not unlike that seen in Dusk Till Dawn.

Sure it's a different case if you are a Malawian however - the city has around 500'000 to 1 million people depending on who you get to do the head count - it is the focus of the southern region and the hub of transit for the border at Mwanza that takes you into Mozambique and, via the Tete corridor, through Zimbabwe and on into South Africa. Like Jakarta in Indonesia and Saigon in Vietnam - it's the city that everyone gravitates towards to make their money - but it's lacking in almost every area when it comes to infrastructure and organisation and is several large leaps behind in terms of modern day technology - folk make their homes as best they can and local village life sprawls across all available land in the area.

At least that was the case when I was there - and friends haven't led me to believe anything much has changed.

Which is how I like it.

Peaceful and back to basics.

Blantyre is about a 4 hour drive from the place I always think about to help me sign off to sleep each night - I took the photo heading this post on the shores of Lake Nyasa at Cape McClear - and it's there that most of my best days upon this earth have been spent - Hammocks, red ripped sunsets and Kwasa Kwasa music - cold Carlsberg greens.

January the 13th 2007 I will be setting foot back upon the same tarmac of chileka airport and once again making Blantyre my home - for six months I'll be helping run the office where we source tea from the Mulanje and Thyolo districts and carry out blends in the whse next door - then tea gets packed and palleted before being shipped off around the world after making the truck journey to Durban down in South Africa.

Ever since I left I've always wanted to go back - I have such good memories of the place and the people I was with - could be risky to tarnish it all with a return - but I think it is that final adventure - that final kick to end my twenties before I turn 30 in June - the unpredictable before the conveyor belt of existence points me towards thoughts of settling down somewhere - kind of strange as I always thought it would take a good number of years more before such an opportunity came around - when I looked at my plans for the future this was were I wanted to end up - and now here it is all of a sudden.

Internet connections are not too hot out there but while it may not be ADSL it is still possible - I've decided to open this out to a few more folk - friends & family - it is harder to keep in touch and it will be a good way to talk to everyone all at once as well as being able to keep a photographic and literal record of life out there as well. Therefore come December time I'm setting up shop on wordpress, getting a domain name and hosting and sorting out a new pattern to proceedings - I'll transfer a bit of the archive across but on the whole it's a fresh start.

Last few weeks I've been working on ideas and planning for the new site along with dipping my toes into the world of torrent sites, downloads, disc burning and DVD's - a lot to learn but now I've got it licked - anyone wants any advice let me know in the comments and I'll point you in the right direction - I'm downloading day and night at the moment as six months I'll not have access to anything requiring download speeds greater than that which is needed for basic email.

But that's ok - my brother from another mother, Paul, runs a bar by the lake called the Gecko lounge these days - and it's got whisky, hammocks and a view of the lakeside sunsets.

Spo | November 26, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Holland | Personal

October 8, 2006

Where’d you go, Joe?……

I’m on auto-pilot lately, not totally zoned out though - I’ve been able to do a lot of thinking in the time spent drifting through each day but I haven’t been able to put anything down in writing I’ve read over a lot of the last year instead how seriously fucked up was Jakarta? It seems like I was drunk the whole time I was there and not in a life and soul of the day kind of way, more in a waking up and not knowing what, where or who the fuck happened last night state of play - these days I’m leading the quiet life I suppose.

Spo | October 8, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Holland | Personal

September 28, 2006

Maybe… just maybe………

One of the strangest times I ever had was when she hadn’t called for a while and I had decided to leave it - but then time ticked by and I thought about just going out and getting on with my weekend - but if she called......


.....so I picked up the phone to dial and a familiar voice said “hello” straight off the bat - she was already on the other end - I had yet to touch a number - she had called at exactly the same time - didn’t even hear one ring - freaky as an aluminous midget in a clown mask.



I don’t think I’m the only person in the world that has loved and lost and never seen the girl again - I don’t think I’m alone in getting a few years down the line and thinking “I wonder what happened to her” - the girl in question really had my head in a spin back then - Kirtsy


I told her I loved her when I was way too stoned at the train station that time and then I think that was more or less the end of it all - saw someone walk past the other day and for a second thought it was her - got me thinking.....


So I end up typing a name into google and seeing what comes up - this is curiosity, not being a stalker I tell myself - she always wanted to travel so maybe she appears running a bar off the beaten track in India or bunjee jumping off bridges in Australia like we talked about after parachuting or maybe even down the road living in Amsterdam seeing as she loved that good old green so much.....


So I only get 3 possibly different hits and I eliminated two of them based on age and area leaving me with one possibility - click the link and it is a list of specialist agents working for travel to Tasmania hmmmm..... someone of the exactly the same name works the Exmouth branch - fuck - more than likely could be her - she always wanted to travel to the part of the world where Tasmania resides and Exmouth isn’t too far off from the surf places in Devon she used to go down to…


Now the real flat out twilight zone higher power at work moment comes when my eye catches who works at the Thomas Cook Retail Ltd Belfast branch.


I do apparently.


Although I don’t.


But another me does.


Just as I did back on the day after that freaky phone call, if I was still a stoner I’d totally be eulogising about how this is one of those glitches in the system -one of those hidden signposts of destiny - the higher powers that be dropping the ball for a second and accidentally giving the game away about how there’s a plan for everyone - it’s all laid out - you just have to trip the right switches read the signs and follow your instincts..


and you end up where you are supposed to be with whom you are supposed to be with.


But I’m not a stoner anymore - so I just put it down to blind coincidence and move on with my day.


Maybe I should start smoking mari-jo again.

Spo | September 28, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Holland | Kaneheads Kompanion | Personal

September 26, 2006

Isn’t that Winston?…..

Spo | September 26, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Holland | Film / TV / Music | Kaneheads Kompanion

September 23, 2006

Death by Stereo!

Spo | September 23, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Holland

September 21, 2006

I’ll change my life tomorrow instead…..

I suppose in such times I'm supposed to write and just see where I go - but what to say? Vacant - say anything honest - say I'm 29 years old and living on my own and each day is drastically in danger of being a repeat of the day before and I'm not doing enough to change that situation - that I never seem to be happy in one place for more than five fucking minutes until I'm looking round the corner.... wanderlust.....

..that on the way back from work I saw an attractive woman walking her dog past my place and played out this scenario in my head where I go up and say something along the lines of people don't take risks then they never get anywhere in life so I figured the worst that could happen is you say no when I ask if you'd like to go for a drink and then scratched that as smug practiced claptrap asking to get shot down and thought about just saying Hi, do you live round here? then thought that sounds like a line from a serial killer - so how about asking for directions? but couldn't think of anywhere I wanted to know the directions to - then told myself I was a fuckwit and that the destination doesn't fucking matter it's an opener - you just pretend you don't know where something is - you don't actually need directions - so you tell her you just moved here - she probably says something back leading to you asking if she's from round the way as well...

. ....then leading tome saying something like nice dog I like cats - less hassle - I find dogs are just clumsy big hairy children constantly looking for attention - the banal loyalty - there's the wet dog hair smell - the drool - and imagine standing in dog crap first thing in the morning - couldn't have that - I'd have to cancel everything the day had to offer after that - might even have the dog put down on the spur of the moment - can't be done with it.

STOP talking!..... too late...... probably time to leave by then.

Just say Hi

Fuck it - I'll change my life tomorrow instead.

Spo | September 21, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Holland

September 13, 2006

Good times on Good terms…..

The phone rang at around 6am If you lived your whole life in one corner of the world then you would assume that someone either has the wrong number, has the wrong sense of humour or has been on the wrong end of one of life' less desirable twists and it's bad news that couldn't wait for a more godly hour.

Unless, that is, you have ex-girlfriends in far away places that never quite grasp that whole time zone thing - or simply don't care wake up lazy man the voice purred - it was Hanh in Vietnam - good to hear her voice at any time of day - if it had been wake up smiley then that would have been Yuni in Indonesia - another always welcome interruption in life.

One girl confined to the history books is Debbie - a girl I was with while I was in Malawi about six years ago - damn - didn't realise it had been that long until I typed that - anyways, my good friend Robin (who I worked with in Indo) now works in our office over there - the warm heart of Africa this little southern African country wedged between the likes of Zambia, Mozambique and Tanzania that has half its size devoted to Lake Nyasa - subsequently the country has only two main cities and the social life in these places is quite close knit - in one night you could visit five or six bars in Blantyre and you've pretty much done the whole place (that isn't off the beaten track anyways) and you can more or less guarantee that you'll run into everyone worth running into.

Sure enough Robin met Debbie - she had been living with a guy in South Africa and was back in town for a while after they broke up - apparently she still refers to me as her boyfriend and insists that I'm coming back one day - which I am as soon as I can afford to make a plan.

Debbie was always a bit shot away when it came to the goods upstairs - but she was damn fine company, a damn fine dancer and always very easy on the eye - sure, after I left there used to be a lot of middle of the night drunk-stoned-hysterical phone calls - and ok, maybe one time she rang pretending she was her sister and told me that Debbie had died in order to find out what my reaction was going to be - and then following that on Valentines day she rang to tell me she'd got married - as it happened I wished her well and said I was really pleased for her and hung up - that was the last time we spoke.

Really she hadn't got married at all and she was erm... just finding out what my reaction was going to be.

So yeah, a few biscuits short of a packet.

But still, I wouldn't mind seeing her again.

You see I never really left any of these women - I just left the countries they were in.

Spo | September 13, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Holland | Daily Life - Indonesia | Daily Life - Malawi | Daily Life - Vietnam | Personal

September 12, 2006

Walking Juke-box …..

An old playlist came up with Massive Attacks Unfinished Sympathy while on the walk to work this morning - passing the college and then through the Train station out into the open on the way to the Metro - that time in the morning when everyone is on autopilot just getting on with getting to where they got to be - you pass people from all walks of life - all in a trance - so surreal, as it all seemed like I was actually in the video.

Spo | September 12, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Holland | Film / TV / Music

September 11, 2006

Everything paused.

Spo | September 11, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK | Personal

September 9, 2006

Drink to get Drunk…..

Spo | September 9, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia

September 8, 2006

Get A Real March On…..

Spo | September 8, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Holland | Kaneheads Kompanion | Personal

September 2, 2006

Lazyboy payday…..

I suppose if I hadn’t gone to the world cup, bought a big fucking TV, a new computer, football season ticket, flew back for friends wedding last weekend and gone to the V festival: I would be breaking even right now - a lot richer financially, but a lot less enriched in terms of damn fine memories and experience - which is a nay too bad sound-bite for what life is all about.

The bank in UK and I are currently arguing over the overdraft fee’s but it’s hard to argue such matters with someone who takes your money before you actually see any of it and this also means it’s fairly tough to get them to give it back. Burying their heads under blankets of bureaucracy and hiding from me across the English channel - financial fuckwits of doom, merchants of misery..... .

Things all got a bit fecked when I moved countries and took time setting up new accounts etc etc - when life is literally all over the place, outgoings aren’t stable and structured for a while and you can get caught out - especially if, like me, you have a habit of on saying “yes” a bit too quickly when a moments thought would be better advised:

Example:

Barnes: Come to Germany, see England at the world cup and go drinking in Frankfurt all night.

Me: Yes.

Cest La Vie, I’ll fight the financial powers that be once I’m back in the UK for two weeks in October - face to face indignation and getting my facts straight on paper works a lot better than bitter international phone calls.

So what does one do when one has a weekend and not too much cash to fill it out?

Gambling of course!

England vs Andorra is one of those golden opportunities to take the bookies to the cleaners - a game where the result is a foregone conclusion and the finer details of victory are also a lot easier to predict - observe:

Andorra is a very small Principality located on the border of France and Spain in the Pyrenees mountains - around 71’000 people live there and that is less than the capacity of the stadium they were playing in today - Old Trafford (76’000). Not that many people means not that many footballers and not many footballers means slim chances of actually finding 11 that are good enough to play against the larger nations of Europe (England population around 60 million).

They are ranked 132 in the world have only ever won 3 games in their 10 year history and are the perennial whipping boys of European Championship qualification along with Luxembourg, Lichtenstein, Faeroe Islands, San Marino and Scotland.

They try to keep the score down and play with all men behind the ball in their own half, hoping that sheer volume of bodies in the way will prevent too many goals going in. This doesn’t often work (biggest loss 9-1) but it does help to keep the scores down and embarrassment on an international scale to a moderate level.

They are one of the most penalised teams in European Qualification history, collecting a fairly large quota of red and yellow cards each game - the mantra being that if you aren’t skilful enough to stop your opponent scoring against you then you may as well kick him off the ball. They also spend a lot of time rolling around on the floor feigning injury - the tactic being that if you are wasting time on the clock then that is time in which your opponents are not firing shot after shot at your goalkeeper (predictably, their star player).

So, Andorra - not very good, not likely to score or even to attempt to for that matter - but quite good at breaking up play and time wasting.

Just a question of how many England would be allowed to score in 90 minutes.

Here you take a few factors:

* Their keeper Koldo is a decent shotstopper (he gets enough practice)

* Andorra will disrupt the play enough to stop it being a real routing,

* England will have a relaxed state of mind once a few early goals are in and take their foot off the gas a bit.

* The game takes place mid-season and club players (and their managers) won’t want injuries or tiredness so will be under orders to take it easy

* A few strikers on the field with something to prove but effectively it’s a high profile training game with a all three substitutes getting on the field disrupting play further.

* Then there’s the miserable weather making the ball that little bit more difficult to control and tackles a little harder to time.

So I’m thinking England score every 15 minutes or so and this gets broken up by contributing factors here and there making it 5-0 - sounds good - time to throw money at it and make the game interesting.

I registered for Blue Square who give free 25 pound bets to anyone signing a new account as long as you place a bet of 25 pounds yourself - 5 pounds on Gerrad first scorer and 20 pounds on England winning 5-0 - put the free bet on the same result at 11/2 - odds are shitty as the Bookies know it will be a white wash.

Things started very well - two early goals and then a bit of a turgid twenty minutes or so before the next one - 3-0 at half time - early goal in the second half and Andorra looked up for a routing - sure enough England were peaking too early for me and the 5^th went in sometime around 60mins - Andorra where lying down too easy and the score looked like it was going to get up towards 7 or 8. Then Andorra did what they do best - started to kick people and roll around on the floor - their Keeper suddenly started pulling amazing saves out the bag - England missed a few sure things and Hargreaves smacked the post - every minute the clock gave up was a minute closer to pay day - but I had quite a few to go before I was home and dry.

At first I figured it was too much - that England would surely get another one or two and there was no point getting excited - but when the clock hit 75 minutes gone I started to believe it was possible - suddenly I was on the edge of my seat cheering every decision that went in Andorra’s favour - every off-side England got caught with, every attack that broke down, every stray pass, every failed corner.

Andorra were helping as much as they could but they rarely managed to keep the ball for more than a few seconds before giving it back to England - it was all very tense stuff as the time trickled down and I started getting superstitious about everything - like don’t hold your hands together as you shouldn’t pray for money - and don’t send out gloating text messages to friends before the final whistle as karma is a bitch and loves opportunities to smack you down like that.

The referee wasn’t on my side as he played around 5 minutes of injury time due to all the Andorran play acting - luckily England didn’t seem bothered by then and their minds where on the upcoming game in Macedonia on Wednesday - the whistle blew and the money was mine - got my 20 quid back plus another 247.50 on top - not bad for a days loafing in a lazyboy.

Spo | September 2, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Holland

August 30, 2006

Funeral strippers clamp-down….

Spo | August 30, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Kaneheads Kompanion | Ojeni | Videos & Links

August 28, 2006

Random 8 …..

1) I drank the still beating heart of a snake while in a Hanoi restaurant.


2) When I was younger I really believed that all you had to do during a nuclear attack was immerse yourself in water and hold your breath until the blast has finished.


3) I’ve been to hospital 10 times but have never broken any bones.


4) I think I really should of married that girl in Vietnam.


5) The best Drug experience I’ve ever had was while working in Malawi - I got severely sunburnt walking along the shoreline of Lake Nyasa and my neck blistered up like a mountain range - I had to go to hospital and spent the next three days sitting in an armchair whacked out of my mind on very, very strong painkillers and loving every minute of it.


6) During the Christmas of the turn of the century I sold stolen Golf club putters, Mini-Grandfather clocks and Oak toilet seats to my mari-jo clientele, proving you can sell anything as long as you get your customers stoned enough while trying to talk them into making a purchase.


7) Taking place across three different continents, I have ended up in bed with more than one woman at the same time, four times. When I see myself in the mirror I don’t think that should of realistically happened to be honest. God bless alcohol.


8) When I was around eight or nine years old I used to draw comics for my brother about a mystical animal god called Owly ( he was an Owl you see ) who, after deciding that earth was no longer a safe place for the animal kingdom, gathered the animals together Noahs Ark style and set off into the galaxy searching for a new home aboard a giant spaceship not unlike the one from Battlestar Galactica.


Owly’s arch nemesis, a wolf, named Bad Wolf, and a snake (called snake) tried to assassinate Owly and inadvertently caused the spaceship to crash-land on the distant planet of Zartonia - once explored they found that it was inhabited by a race of giant insects the ant men - and the zombified spirits of dead animals that had done serious wrong back on earth a sort of National Geographic Purgatory.


Badwolf took charge of these creatures and led them to war against Owlys animal kingdom for control over the planet of Zartonia.


Each episode generally revolved around the idea of animals in spaceships, massive weapons, huge explosions, kidnap and rescue missions and absolute carnage.


There was a character called Wild-dog who was more than a bit like Han Solo. Owly himself didn’t really do much to be honest and I didn’t really like him.

Spo | August 28, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Ojeni | Personal

August 25, 2006

Music be the food of life…..

Then over the next few days, you see it slowly start to unravel, until in the end: chaos reigns - the skies open and everything underfoot is untrustworthy, stewards are not at their posts and if they are, they’re so stoned they are of more of a hindrance than a help (grey campsite? That is… erm maybe over there. no wait..it’s. wait I don’t even think there is one.), pathways descend into rivers of mud, toilets brim with concentrated evil and paper is a fabled legend hunted for in vain by many. The floor becomes a universal dustbin and the food stalls sell three day old half cooked burgers while cider is all that remains at the bar.Fevered brains listen for the clicking of lighters and the spark at the end of joints & cigarettes as they search for any soul willing to part with one of their precious sticks of burning comfort, far too many drugged up moonbats decorating the area - zombified festival goers flying on too much of whatever stagger around aimlessly searching for friends, tents or their minds as everything spins in circles around them - sleep, food and money all scarce commodities after 3 days festival camping.

Mobiles show that last dot of battery as text messages arranging to meet at certain times and certain places arrive two hours too late - no one can remember where they parked the car or where they pitched the tent.

And then all of a sudden - it is time to go home.

None of that matters however - sure, you are cold, wet, uncomfortable, hungry and tired after three days basically sleeping rough in a field inside a plastic bag on sticks - but that’s all superfluous to the reason behind why you are actually there - the music and the memories you carry from the event.

V festival takes place each year and generally attracts about 150’000-200’000 people to each site - they have two sites with the line up swapping over each day - each site has two main stages, two main tents and then a few smaller bar type venues dotted around the place - one thing they do very well is organise things as much as possible so that it runs as smooth as can be expected - big bands don’t clash too much - no over ticketing or freeloaders - no over sensitive security if you are smoking a bit of mari-jo, but safe enough to know that you won’t end up the wrong side of robbers and drunks - getting in and out is not too much of a nightmare.
Lily Allen served up suitably bouncy Ska Reggae tinged tunes to get things started - did herself proud - Bic Runga a New Zealand songstress who is big in that part of the world did an intimate set up next - beautiful voice, but probably better suited to a club kind of atmosphere with the-one-woman-with-a-guitar-slow-number approach - the rain was falling by this point and grey skies looked likely to start making life around the site a lot more difficult - in such situations putting up with half assed bland bubblegum rock wannabes is hard to take - especially when they are as passionless as the Feeling or as poor live as Hard-Fi - who Damo was particulary angry at for trying to cover the White Stripes - then again in comparison against the performances that were to come, seeing these bands made me appreciate how truly califragafuckinglistic the later shows actually were.

For an hour or so Paul Wellar showed such performers how to do it - the crowds always love Paul Weller because he’s got songs we all know and love and he sings them like it’s the first time they’ve ever been sung - I think there was around 50 or 60 thousand people jumping around and singing A town called Alice right back at him - how good must that feel?

Then the rain stopped.

The evening came around 8.30pm

Around 100’000 people gathered at the main stage

Faithless.

Opened with Insomnia.

I’ve never been a part of anything quite like it.
Faithless do indeed get away with playing the same set year in year out - Insomnia, Salva Mea, & One mixed in around some of the lesser known numbers and attempts to replicate their main three tracks - but it has to be said that they really do kick fuck out of an evening when they are live - truly outstanding.

After Faithless, Groove Armada in one of the tents was tempting, however, the evening really jumped up a notch further as we headed to the next stage for Razorlight - one of my flat out love and listen to all the time bands live, they were legendary - they have so many tracks that are suited to the big crowd and they know how to perform for the lights - who ever stuck around for Morrissey on the main stage must of felt robbed when people told of what they saw when Razorlight played that night.

We sat up till the dawn threatened as we had done the night before - we would sleep when the weekend went the way of the dodo.

Sunday rolled around and the sun made an appearance with it - we gathered troops and got ourselves breakfast in the form of cans of Calrsberg and stale cheese sandwiches - we headed down the arena and milled around a while - Mikey was enthusing about the the Dub Pistols and we decided to check them out en masse - UK Hip Hop all about MC’s, rappers, mixing desks and samples - shockingly good - a live performance in a small arena (more or less a bar) and they tore the place apart - the collection of beats and the variety of samples was astounding - the energy of the performance on display was unmatched over the whole weekend - they were leaping into the crowd jumping off the trun tables and generally just going fucking mental - I’d never heard of them before but I’ll never forget them now.

The day was flying by and before we knew it mid-afternoon brought us the Magic Numbers and all their California-60’s-mama’s-and-the-papa’s-style-hippy-hoedown tomfoolery - I’d heard good things about this surprisingly UK bred ray of sunshine and heard even more in the form of their music once they took the stage - two sets of cuddly brothers and sisters - all good sentiments, big hair, beards and smiles - the women might look a little like Shrek princesses but you still just want to get up there and bear hug every member of the band.

Bloc Party were up next - another of my die cast love and listen at any time bands - we got front and centre as much as possible as they banged out a blistering set playing the big numbers from silent alarm as well as some high quality sounding new tracks - another big performance that would of gone down even better later in the evening - fantastic to see them though - one of the reasons I got on the plane.

Kindergarten Coldplay Keane followed with the big Moonface wailing over his piano singing songs that are nothing out of the ordinary and linger in the memory for all of about two or three seconds - it was really surprising how many people stuck around for it and they had one of the bigger crowds of the day - we couldn’t be dealing with the blandness of it all and everyone agreed a move was in order.
The day fractured at this point as everyone had their own ideas of what should be up next and later on mobiles and meeting places just never really got the job done this late into the festival - however, all weekend we had been randomly bumping into folk we had no idea where actually there - I love that - amongst 150’000 other people just happen across someone you’ve not seen in a while - one such friend of mine appeared out of nowhere as I was wandering over to see We are the Scientists.


While the band failed to grab me the conversation about Panda’s unwillingness to pro-create “you know what, fuck the panda” did.


leading into the logistics of Noah’s Ark: Getting Pandas to fuck each other is hard enough when we have around 2000 of the miserable furry bastards - now God wants to eliminate all of them and leave the world with two and hope they get along?


and on to how pandas are just focused on the celebrity: they’ve figured out that there aren’t that many of them left and they all are trying to outlast each other so they can be the last panda on earth - book deals, movie of the week, pencil cases, cuddly toys, round the clock TV coverage and major network news appearances - if they start getting jiggy with another panda and make a baby panda to outlast them then their eternal place in the Guinness book of records is no longer attainable .


We laughed with the crowd as loud cheers went up upon hearing the news that one of the Ordinary Boys had been taken ill and they would not be appearing - a sort of Madness tribute band that has managed to get a bit of press off the back of one of ther members appearing in celebrity big brother - some DJ’s took their place and we wandered back to the main stage where Beck was busy confusing the fuck out about 40’000 people - we fractured again and I met up with Lockey and Sophie and decided to get as far away from Beck as possible and over to see the Editors on the other main stage.

Interpol-lite they may be, they do have one or two damn fine numbers up their sleeve like Munich and Blood – we grabbed some Mexican munch and watched from afar - a fair set was played out but I think everyone was looking forwards to the last bands of the festival at this point. Kasabian was following the Editors and while I don’t mind a few of their tracks like the Stone Roses wannabe Clubfoot, I still don’t really rate them and get a manufactured rock band vibe about all they do - harsh that may be as many that saw them that night said they did a flat-out fantastic fucking job of entertaining people.

Lockey and Sophie had their hearts set on Fat Boy Slim - I can take or leave him - never really liked his tracks or albums but appreciate him mixing live - still that kind of thing wasn’t really what I came for - and besides, after two days on my feet with not much in the way of sleep or food I wasn’t really set up for bouncing round a tent - I needed something I could get zoned out and transfixed by.

Enter Main Stage - Radiohead

I’d taken a while to come round and appreciate them - in the past I’d always dismissed it as music to slit your wrists to and thought Thom Yorkes voice to be akin to a strangled cat - Barnes burned all the albums for me and gradually I-pod infiltrated them into my psyche via random playlists - eventually I came around and understood that if you love music then you will probably end up loving Radiohead- crashing guitars, haunting lyric’s, modern day lullaby’s for the skeletons in everyones closet.

No better way to finish a festival - to see them live is really quite something - I stood fixed to the spot, eyes forward, eyes wide - just taking it all in - they played for around 2 hours to send the festival off - they had done the same the night before at the Chelmsford gig as well apparently - I don’t know if they got the same appreciation there as they did here - but more than likely - I think there was 2/3 of all the festival at the main stage - the crowd went all the way back to the gates as far as I could see - as I looked around there seemed to be many like myself, hypnotized and alone - it seemed that as the festival drew to a close everyone had just stopped worrying about sticking together, meeting up, finding the group and just decided that this would be for themselves and them alone - no distractions - just getting drawn in and tranced out by one of the greatest live bands on the planet.

After the encore - to my and everyone else’s surprise - we all heard the chords and there was a pause as we realised what was about to be played - Creep - a song they reputedly hardly ever play live and profess to hate - yet one the crowds always want - around 100-150’000 people singing every word.

As they closed and everyone turned to go back to their tents you looked around and could tell that everyone felt they had really seen something special - Well and truly Gobsmacked would be one way of putting it.

Split from everyone else, I zombie marched back to the car - running on empty, I waited in the cold and played back tracks on my I-pod - so many songs given so much more life now I’ve heard them live - you hear a few chords - hairs on your neck stand up and eyes widen - your memory kicks in and takes you right back there - there’s a price on the ticket - but the memory you get in return - you’ve got that for life - can’t put a price on that.

Spo | August 25, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK | Film / TV / Music | Personal

August 15, 2006

Unplanned as ever….

I’m heading back for the V festival this weekend - Once off the plane I have no idea of how I’m actually getting there, how I’ll pick up my ticket, whose tent, whose sleeping bag, not really enough money, not sure how I’ll get back - but I’m sure of catching the plane to the UK as I booked and paid for my ticket ages ago and it’s too late to back out now - that was the point of booking ages ago - to make sure I didn’t back out by not giving myself the option - I figured the rest of the arrangements will sort themselves out closer to the time.

Now is closer to the time.

As ever I leave things to the last minute before looking into whether this lackadaisical dream is actually possible - looking into things results in the following:

Friday 18th - Plane arrives Birmingham 21:30 - then 21:58 train direct from the airport to wolverhapmton arrives 22:36 - last shuttle bus leaves wolverhampton for the event at weston park at 23:15.

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Find everyone - organise a tent and sleeping bag - get well and truly wasted and watch great bands all weekend.

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Monday 21st - find internet link and check-in on line for the flight - first Bus of the day leaves weston park at 4.30am - Train leaves wolverhampton at 5.05am - arrives at airport at 5.39am - plane leaves for Amsterdam at 6.15am.

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Erm..... OK...... that looks possible...... in a perfect everything goes to plan parallel universe.

Meanwhile here on planet earth with a terrorist threat to the airways and with my track record for timing and organisation, I had better see about re-arranging my flights and taking some time off work to actually pull this trip off - otherwise by the time I arrive, It will probably be time to go home again.

Spo | August 15, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Holland | Daily Life - UK

August 9, 2006

Head down, collar up…..

I’ve followed football all over the place and the check list of teams seen and stadiums visited is long and varied - I’ve seen England fall to Germany on Penalties at Wembley in Euro 96 - I’ve seen them fall again vs. Portugal at the Estádio da Luz at Euro 2004 - Anfield, Old Trafford, Villa Park, St.James Park, Stamford Bridge, White Hart Lane, St.Marys, Fratton Park - even the Tiger cup in Vietnam all the way down to standing upon the stone cold, deserted, concrete terraces of Brunton park, watching Carlisle UTD in the old fourth Division get a hammering against Fulham in the pouring rain - all that time I’ve never really had any problems as far as getting into scrapes goes.Dutch Football has a fairly fearsome reputation when it comes to it’s followers two UK Sheff Utd fans got stabbed here over the weekend - the main local team is Feyenoord and when they play Ajax it is full on war in the streets - this season they may not let travelling fans attend each others matches due to the disturbances of last year when there was widespread violence and damage all around the ground - as to whether you can call the people involved fans or not is open to debate – my side would be that they aren’t there for the football, they are there for the idea of being part of a tribe going to war - and I think you should put all your fear, love, hate and anger into roaring your team on from the stands - rather than charging down backstreet alleyways hurling bottles and rocks at opposing fans hours after the game has finished.That is not to say that this is how it is with Dutch football all the time - just that when the tinder box is lit there aren’t so many cameras catching the action and the money in the game here doesn’t pay for the beefed up security of the UK game for example - on the whole Feyenoord is about genuine football fans - they love the club and follow the team through all manner of fortunes – they keep singing even when they are down on the field – a sense of belonging to one big boisterous family - the football isn’t of the highest standard, but the seats are always filled and the atmosphere resonates with passion for every home game.

So I was sold - seemed a good way to help myself settle and a damn fine way to spend a Sunday every couple of weeks - got myself a season ticket, got myself and hat, got myself a shirt, started finding out a bit about the history and the current crop of players (best of which is Dirk Kuyt who may be about to leave for UK premiership shores just before the season starts) sign me up.First game was the friendly on Sunday vs UK side Middsboro - a 2-0 Victory, Kuyt scored and a good introduction to the place - went along with my boss and his son - met a few folk - did the match day rituals of munch before the game and drinks after - good seats - cracking atmosphere - bring on the rest of the season.Next up was last night vs Premiership champions Chelsea - a bit more well known and have a strong-arm history of tough nut followers - I went up straight after work on my own for a 7pm kick off - a few folk had commented that it would be a good idea not to advertise the fact I was English for this occasion and I didn’t make too many murmurs to allude to my origins on the way up and in the wait to get in the ground.


I passed my ticket, went through the turnstile, walked out towards section O and the steps to my seat and then realised that I was in fact in section Q and I was supposed to be the other side of a fortified gate to the right of me - no obvious way through – I also noted that I seemed to be in the section that represented the hardcore element of supporters at the far end of the ground behind one of the goals - the end where all the noise comes from - where all the flares are lit - where all the controversial chants about the holocaust come from (rivals Ajax have a Jewish base apparently - Feyenoord supporters make the hissing noise of the gas chambers when they play them) - basically the part of the ground that on a night like tonight an Englishman has no place being whether he is wearing a Feyenoord shirt or not.I looked about and saw a steward checking tickets as people went to their seats and shuffled over - I tried to communicate through the medium of mime but ended up having to use English - and suddenly ears all around started pricking up and all eyes seemed to be on me - one group of four was passing as I explained the situation and although I couldn’t understand the language I got the gist - it was that I was probably trying to sneak in to cause trouble at the Feyenoord end (did I look insane??) and they would gladly help me find my seat by passing pieces of my body over the crowd to my designated section - the Chelsea end in their eyes.


With one hand pushing me to the foreground and one gesturing to the group that they should go inside and take up their seats the steward explained I would have to walk all the way round the stadium to the right of me, passing through each security gate separating sections, until I had come full circle and was on the other side of the fence to the right of me and section O - this meant I had to explain the situation (that I was an idiot) to each fluorescent bewildered guard in turn - all of whom could not grasp that I was English and not a Chelsea fan (I’m Liverpool - I hate Chelsea and nothing would of pleased me more than to see them lose) and didn’t seem to keen on letting me through.


Once I had made it through most of the security gates I was almost back at my section - one more to go - the Chelsea away supporters section


And I am wearing a Feyenoord shirt.


Those that don’t have English as their native tongue use the most blunt and basic way of describing a situation at times - I’m not sure you going through here is a good idea - you might get hurt as it was there was just a lot of abuse hurled in my direction via chants about my mother and I got out without a scratch.


Once I finally got into section O, I found my seat and decided that I wouldn’t mutter another word for the rest of the evening - including opting out of half time munch and drinks as speaking up at the time of order would blow my cover - Feyenoord lost 1-0 but played their heart out against the superstars like Ballack, Schevchenko, Terry, Robben, et al ( I would mention Lampard in that bracket, who scored in fact, but he is still not forgiven for being so useless at shooting during the world cup that he would probably wouldn’t be able to even hit a cows backside with a banjo).


The crowd bounced to the sounds of the Feyenoord songs which are played at full volume with cheesey cheerful Euro-techno backing - they roared every attack - viscerally kicked every ball - and praised every player - we all thought the perfect equaliser was in when Van Hooijdonk volleyed a free kick against the post in the final minute - it was not to be - when we all realised he’d missed that was incidentally the only other time I opened my mouth.


Motherfucker!


Think those around me agreed.


Sentiments cross the language barrier when your team is losing and hits the post in the final minute.

Spo | August 9, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Holland

August 5, 2006

“You’re my boy Blue!”

God damn, the weather turned shitty and I had a shitty week to go with – everything I seemed to touch collapsed like a house of cards and in the end I was barely getting over the Friday finishing line in terms of feeling good about the world.


After work drinks, I grabbed a bottle of JD, got home and found the Clerks II DVD posted through my letter box - then late on when it finished, I channel flicked and Old School was kicking off right at that moment.....

Spo | August 5, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Holland | Film / TV / Music

August 2, 2006

Can’t put my finger on it….

Spo | August 2, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Film / TV / Music | Kaneheads Kompanion

August 1, 2006

Fuckwit moments….

Spo | August 1, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Holland

July 28, 2006

Instinct - every Mother F****ing time…..

Spo | July 28, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Holland | Kaneheads Kompanion | Personal

July 26, 2006

Wake up thinking of the girl in Hanoi…..

She'd never seen Pulp Fiction - she'd never seen a lot of things - ET, Indiana Jones, Star Wars, the Godfather, Jaws - those movies that you can't easily grow up on this earth and avoid - but Pulp Fiction....Damn - that situation needed to be recitfied - Imediatefuckingly.

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She laughed when Vincent accidentally shot Marvin in the face.

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Game over man - we have a winner.

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Movie finished and we both wanted the same thing.

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A $5 dollar shake.

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God damn I miss that girl.

Spo | July 26, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Holland | Daily Life - Vietnam | Film / TV / Music | Kaneheads Kompanion

July 25, 2006

Haunted….

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....That was easily the longest ten minutes of my life sitting in that God damned chair.
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Awkward doesn’t even begin to describe it.
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I’ll not be going back.
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Worst farting experience since the time I was wearing headphones on the running machine at the Gym in Jakarta - I never knew how loud it was - still haunts me.
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That was for brother Eric - mild comparison to his bowel movement adventures.

Spo | July 25, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Holland | Kaneheads Kompanion

July 24, 2006

This is what Amsterdam felt like…..

This is what Amsterdam felt like... (click play a couple of times and stick with it - trust me)[Toy Story 2: Requiem]

Spo | July 24, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Holland | Film / TV / Music | Kaneheads Kompanion | Personal | Videos & Links

July 23, 2006

Amsterdamned……..

Two good brothers of mine rolled up here on Friday after a weeks worth of getting wasted round France - 7pm Saturday we arrived In Amsterdam - 7am Sunday we were on our way back to Rotterdam and the promise of sleep.

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Penniless, exhausted, broken, wide eyed and wasted - we were well and truly Amsterdamned.

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I'll write more tomorrow once all my flashbacks are in order and I can open my eyes properly again.

Spo | July 23, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Holland | Kaneheads Kompanion

July 20, 2006

“I got’s me a wok amigo - Don’t be stickin nor nuttin”

Spo | July 20, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Holland | Kaneheads Kompanion | Personal

July 19, 2006

The Kid Stays In The Picture…..

36 degrees and the flat was a sauna when I got back - headed straight out to get bags of ice for the loafing with JD and cokes on the balcony evening ahead.

Kid in the supermarket queue was making fart noises using his hand over his mouth - pretty good quality - good volume - not too long - good dose of realism - fine work.

You didn’t need to speak Dutch to know what his mother was telling him - you could see it all in the hand gestures -That’s disgusting! Stop that! who do you think is laughing at you? who are you impressing? Look around! Do you see anyone laughing at you?!

Spo | July 19, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Holland | Kaneheads Kompanion | Personal

July 18, 2006

Through the Keyhole and the Looking glass……..

Yeah - rent a new place fully furnished and you gotta expect that the tastes of the owner are going to be evident in a lot of what you see around the joint - but this was a little much - this was a kind of through the looking glass experience - I don’t think I’m being a reserved stuffy Englishman when I say that the woman that owns this place has got some god damned freaky assed artistic sensibilities and may indeed have taken a lot of LSD at one point or another.... and she really likes horses...... an awful lot.

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Yeah - there was a lot of Horse/Human cross-over porn around the house

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“Hello!
I’m a freaky Dali-esque trumpet creature made of clay
about the size of a small child!
Welcome to my den of strange!”

....and here we have what every house needs:
a large clay creation depicting Siamese woodpecker lesbian twins

Alright - I did kind of like the disembodied monster hand candle holder

Weird, yes - but also:

Shit

.....and finally - a human-lily-lizard crature with a big fuck off beak - of course!

...and maybe there are a few of you thinking all this gubbins looks kind of cool and off the wall - sure it’s not exactly everyday stuff - interesting - weird freaky and a bit mental - but yeah, interesting - but would you want to live in a house FULL of this crap?? coz this is the tip of the iceberg - the place was filled with smaller clay mental projects dotting around the gaff - took me ages to hunt it all down - now the place is looking a little bit more like I live here - and not some nutty bag lady with a penchant for the Island of Dr.Moreau and a little bit of bestiality.

Spo | July 18, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Holland | Kaneheads Kompanion | Ojeni

July 17, 2006

Whisky inspires…..

Spo | July 17, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Holland | Film / TV / Music

July 15, 2006

Back in the game….-

Spo | July 15, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Holland | Videos & Links

July 12, 2006

I saw 38 attractive women on the way to work this morning….

Spo | July 12, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Holland

June 26, 2006

World Cup Fever disrupts blogging shock!

Greetings and salutations good people - I’ve been AWOL lately due to fecking up my laptop trying to install Dutch ADSL - I need a native to help me out at home with it and I don’t know anyone yet and the neighbour is a little old woman.

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Anyways - I’m back in UK at mo for world cup week and sorting a few things here and there - turning 29 and going to see Death Cab For Cutie at the Brixton Academy - when I get back to Rotterdam I’ll finally get back on line again and get some sort of order to life - last few weeks have been pretty hectic, getting settled, finding my way, getting used to the job and enjoying the sights and sounds of Rotterdam (very cool place).

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I also managed to get to Frankfurt, blag a ticket, saw England play and spent a classic weekend with world cup fever right in the centre of things - as you may have also deduced I am also AWOL due to watching a ridiculous amount of football at the moment.

-quality way to waste time however......

Spo | June 26, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Holland

June 9, 2006

Feeling fine, like the hour is mine….

Life is good and I’m feeling like I’ve landed on my feet here - city is easy to get around and big enough to offer everything, yet small enough for you to get know it fairly quick - I feel like I’ve been here longer than just a week or so and have got my bearings for life’s essentials quick and easy enough - I’m kinda used to starting over every six months or so by now - Vietnam for a couple of years on and off, Indo for a year or so, back in the UK for 6 months and now here in Holland - but Rotterdam feels like settling material more than anywhere else I’ve been in recent memory.
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Sure, I’m on my own and know nobody but me, myself - I but I don’t mind my own company and I’ve figured the place out fairly swiftly - there’s a swish supermarket for one day to the next shopping - a wine and whisky world round the corner - restaurant bar shindig within a few minutes walk - a place in which I’m already on my way to achieving local status - I know where the restaurants are, the main bar area, Sandwich shop for morning first thing, the place for English papers, best music shop in town, the gym and of course: the obligatory Irish pub.
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I’m also getting to grips with the lingo - for the nitty gritty of everyday living I’m going to have to learn Dutch - it’s good to make the effort and the locals love that you try - especially when all around seem so fluent in English and it would be easy enough to not bother - but at the end of the day, when you live in a place that seems not too far a step out of the general existence of what you’re used to, you feel like a bit of an idiot when you suddenly can’t grasp the day to day - in Vietnam and Indonesia walking around feeling like a fish out of water was to be expected - it genuinely was a jump to the other end of the world - yet here in Holland, you feel like you’re playing catch up when all that looks, sounds and feels normal doesn’t add up when it comes to the breakdown of lingo.
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There are the little differences as Jules and Vincent famously discussed - the bikes, the sense of humour, the multitude of snacks, the bikes, the mayo, the little beers, the bagel obsession, the bikes, the zebra crossings that aren’t really zebra crossings, the trams, the way it seems that there’s an attractive woman consistently within 5 metres of you and of course the bikes - lots and lots of bikes.
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The work? getting there, getting there… it’s like there are so many directions to head in but no idea where to start - so I’m getting the basics sorted as far as email, phones and computers go first - finding out the A-Z before getting on to the tricky - one definite plus is that I’m working the Vietnam tea again - sort of the next step of what I started over there - bringing it to a wider audience of buyers - it’s good talking with the friends I made in various parts of the world again - in UK I was in the background and not in the mix of world wide trading - but now I’m involved with everything and everyone all over again and work doesn’t seem so bad anymore.
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and the girl? ........
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Anyways - getting late and I’m up at the crack of dawn to catch a train to Frankfurt in the morning - as the sun rises I’ll be heading to Germany and trying to either blag my way into England vs. Paraguay or just hook up with some friends and soak up the football, the big screen, the alcohol and the atmosphere - sure there were a lot of logical reasons for wanting to move to Holland - quality of life, career, money and smiling in the morning - but being next door to the World Cup was definitely one of the main ones as well - COME ON ENGLAND! as really, we’ve all been hurting far too long now....

Spo | June 9, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Holland

June 3, 2006

Arrived Rotterdam…..

I’m in the weird and wonderful world of Holland and trying to get settled - which may take a week or so as I get my things trucked over from UK and get to grips with where I’m living, work and getting the odds and ends of everyday living organised.

I need to get set up with the net, get my laptop sorted out for connections and then I’ll be back posting and adding a few pics of the place.

First impressions? bikes everywhere! and liking the whole beautiful women of all nationalities in one place thing (166 apparently) and also that it’s very easy to get around the city what with trams, trains, underground and taxi’s everywhere.

Apartment is cool-ish - classy, spacious, easy walking from town, next to a few supermarkets and bars - needs a bit of work but it’s looking better now I’ve hidden all the freaky artistic strangeness the lady who owns the place had filled it with. Including a very personal calender which you’ll have to wait for pics of before it can be fully explained.

Two floors worth of narrow winding stairs are lethal as well - methinks drunken nights = couch.

So.... will be checking in later in the week once I’m able to use my computer again - using someone else’s feels like cheating.

Spo | June 3, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Holland

May 28, 2006

Usually I’m all about Blue Steel, but today I’m feeling Grey Quest….

I was absolutely fucking mongoloided last night and have no memory after 11pm - reports indicate an empty bottle of JD, a stack table take out in the Kings, dance off and an escort home - my head feels like it’s been in a tumble drier and I would welcome a firing squad.

Good send off.

****Update**** - just spoke to Loomis and he says that my stack table take out was truly outstanding - I stumbled through the door took out two drink table stands - smashed a bunch of drinks and ashtrays - rolled aorund on the floor a bit looking bemused by the whole thing - then got my senses back and jumped up dancing around like party-boy - he has the whole damn thing on video as well - as last nights in the village go, that was a hell of a way to go out.

Spo | May 28, 2006 | Comments
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May 24, 2006

Ergo…

Seems like a lot of life begins all over again as of June 1st - but before I go to Rotterdam I’m meeting up with Anna on Friday night at the Mint Leaf in London - we haven’t seen that much of each other since I returned which is a shame seeing as how long we go back - I still feel that despite the many I call brother and sister, there are few I’m at ease with as much as I am with her - lately we kinda got swept up in the everyday and the promise of arrangements - missed calls - day later text - a 5 second email - in theory we aren’t so far away - an hour or so on the train up to big smoke - which lends to thinking it’s no big deal and it’s easy to catch up - if not this weekend then next and so on - but when you think you don’t have to make the effort, the effort never gets made and ergo.....



I think I was better at keeping up with the day to day of those closest to me when I couldn’t be further from them, living on the other side of the world.......

Spo | May 24, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK | Personal

May 20, 2006

Yeah but he’s got character and character goes a long way…..

Bundi was lying on his back with his feet in the air listeining to the new chilli peppers album when he suddenly saw my hung-over good self stagger down the stairs....



...Not seeming to recognise me for the fifth time in a week, he then jumped up and ran straight into the patio windows.



That cat is an idiot.

Spo | May 20, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK

May 18, 2006

Played a Great Game with My Head in the Clouds…..

So it’s been a while since I sat and stared at the blank page and just started writing to see what happens - kinda been living in a driftwood type of existence these last few days - not really seeming to influence much around me, yet it all takes place none the less - not that I’m complaining as things have been drifting in a pretty damn decent direction of late - observe…



My recent good fortune has included the following:

• Totally unexpected end of year random bonus from the head office for no discernable reason has got me completely out of debt again - still in state of shock about this.
  
  
  
• Lady running the show in Rotterdam has found me a place to live - 2 bedroom apartment, by the river, 10 mins from town, fully furnished, 3 balconies, open plan living area, internet and cable connected - 795 Euro’s a month = sweeter than a cream covered cheerleader.
  
  
  

• As of June 1st once working in Rotterdam, I’ll get given a company travel card and which will mean never ever having to pay for buses, trams and trains in and around the city - currently I spend about 150quid a month on getting to verk on the train in UK - while this is indeed going to save me much in the way of moola, it is also going to save me from the change demon - I call him Changdemus - he who taketh notes - turns them into coinage - coinage which soon disappears without trace on random items, the description of which you can’t ever quite put your finger on - it might say £2.99 but once that 10 note is passed over, its gone in all its entirety.
  
  

• First lost mobile phone for almost 3 years was found by kindly old lady who used it to ring my Dad and organise to give me it back the next day (by way of gratitude, she got the classic tried and tested “say thanks to an old lady using chocolates and flowers” combo - ala streetfighter 2)
  
  

• Computer froze at 7.44pm yesterday evening meaning I could not bet on last nights Euro final game going to penalties - which it didn’t - saving me the 40 quid I’d convinced myself to place on it due to being able to see the future.
  
  

• Having one tequila too many late on Saturday - a tequila that inspired me to have the good sense to pass up a sure thing with a girl that would of surely got me into a whole world of cheap crappy soap opera style small town scandal - well I say ”inspired” when really it was more of a case of ”incapacitated- but it was a bullet dodged none the less.

Spo | May 18, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Holland | Daily Life - UK

May 14, 2006

The morning after the greatest cup final of all time….

Greatest FA Cup final EVER.

Liverpool 3 - West Ham UTD 3 - Liverpool win 3-1 on Penalties after extra time.

The celebrations went on long into the night and I awake with a broken head and no voice - This is to be expected after your team comes back from 2-0 down, gets it back to 2-2, then down 3-2 and it looks like defeat before coming back yet again with a glorious 30 yard Gerrard screamer in the final minute - The final minute - it is fair to say that I went absoloutley fucking mental.

Extra time flys by and suddenly nerve shredding penalties are on the agenda - Reina who had a shocker all day suddenly gets his game back and pulls off three saves to send us in wonderland.

Steven Gerrard is without a doubt Englands greatest player and that was the most colossal califragafuckinglistic display of sheer footballing genius I have ever witnessed.
What. A. Match.

Games such as these are defining moments in sport - and truly special moments in life - always to be remembered - well, apart from the celebrations afterwards - as you can see below.......I obviously can’t remember much from those.....

Spo | May 14, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK | Personal

May 10, 2006

Every cloud has a white lining…..

Drastic to the point of hospitalisation though my Columbian marching powder obsession was - the binges of my early to mid twenties did result in always being guaranteed to still be able to breathe through my left nostril when I get knocked for six by the flu....

Back to bed....

Spo | May 10, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Holland | Daily Life - UK | Kaneheads Kompanion | Personal

May 9, 2006

At Last He Roars…..

Most saw it as disaster but for me it’s opportunity - Rooney gets injured and the door opens for Gerrad to make this his world cup - he’s carried Liverpool on his back for two seasons and for England he’s never shone playing alongside Lampard, always cancelling each other out - now however, unleashing Gerrad into the forward role behind Owen is the bold move - perhaps alongside Cole - but Eriksson has never been bold - up until todays squad

Theo Walcott, Aaron Lennon, Stuart Downing and only 4 strikers all pointing to 4-5-1 and Crouch up front should Owen show he doesn’t have the juice. We may not be happy about Sol and Hargreaves getting in the squad but still, the man has finally grown some cojunes.


Walcott and Lennon etc - as he said “it’s a huge gamble - but if it pays off he may very well win the world cup.”


And there was no chance of that ever happening if he played safe.


Bring it on.

Spo | May 9, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK | News

May 6, 2006

Cranium Command….

As far as the move to Holland goes, one of the main things that I have been worried about is that I’ll have to drive around Europe quite a bit. I guess it’s fairly well known among my friends and family that I am not the worlds greatest driver - I haven’t parked properly for the ten years I’ve had my license and have also crashed two cars for example - I also don’t have much sense of direction, although given time, I do believe I am one the worlds greatest short cut discoverer’s - but driving round Europe, where I’ll be asked to pitch up, hire a car and go find random tea buyers across the designated country - to those that know me this sounds like a recipe for disaster - I’ll be on the wrong side of the road, hopelessly lost, refusing or unable to ask for directions and I’ll be late for everything - I don’t really argue too much.


Well you see that’s the simplistic easy option I can use as my excuse - something I’ve been thinking about a lot today after my dreams from last night.


You see I don’t think I’m that much of a bad driver - I also happen to think that when it comes to parking, I’m just forever lucky - there always seems to be an easy space to drive into - I also don’t care that much about whether or not my car is sticking out into the road or if it looks ridiculous to others - frankly cars, engines, custom made accessories and driving skills all amount to a whole lot of nothing in my eyes - I get from A to B and find it a chore - I’ve never been a petrol head and most of it is a foreign language to me - the rest of the world can get over my bad driving, I’m just not bothered - I don’t drive too fast and, Jakarta apart, I’m not exactly a danger on the roads - I’m just not a great advertiesment for the British school of motoring, that’s all.


The two times I crashed my car it was while under the influence of various mind and mood altering substances - both where fairly remote yet still brainless occurrences for which I cannot really defend, other than to say that at the time of driving I thought I was fine - the states of the vehicles afterwards would obviously suggest otherwise.

For the first I was around 23 when I took a corner at speed and jumped over a steep verge before diving down and smashing into the curb below at the bottom of the ridge - I was half cut on coke and booze and I busted the drive shaft after smashing the right wheel up pretty bad - lucky, in so much as it didn’t get any more serious than that and at so early in the morning, the only person I could of killed was myself - I was able to limp the car to the end of the road and leave it on my parents drive - it was a write off.


I’m supposed to write lesson learned there.


The second time was last year - details at a glance: 3am wasted after the club - picked the car up from the hotel 5 mins from home - kissed the girl driving round a corner at speed and drifted across the three lanes to hit and mount a concrete foot high central reservation - drove through some bushes and trees - dodged the upcoming flyover concrete wall by swerving at last minute to jump back on the road and continue on back to the apartment - dawning realisation kicked in the next day about how close a call it all was - car was fucked up, but fixable.


I didn’t really drive much after that - I guess there wasn’t much reason as taxi’s where so cheap and the traffic was atrocious - I’d do errands here and there and the short drive to work - but I suppose I definitely avoided it if possible - once I got back here in the UK, my old car was long sold and trains have been par for the course as far as work goes - moving to Winchester, I wouldn’t of needed a car either - I told myself it was the expense - petrol, parking, tax, insurance, MOT, upkeep - avoidable.


But last night I dreamt about the last crash for the first time - very surreal - I don’t think I’ve ever dreamt of it before - even as I sit here now I remember the dream so well - as I do the crash - it was the peaceful serenity of the situation - how something so quick, out of the blue, violent and unpredictable just seemed like a perfectly calm state of affairs - there must have been maybe two or three seconds where I just watched events unfold in front of me - like the windscreen was in fact the next step in plasma TV technology and it wasn’t actually happening - something so quick seemed to last so long - I had time to look around and take it all in - like I can still remember what all the plants looked like - the way they would appear in the headlights and before suddenly being sucked under the wheels - as though a magician had clicked their fingers to make them disappear.


Drifting through possibly the last few seconds of your life in slow motion and not seeming to have any influence over events - quiet acceptance and faint amusement as events unfold - with Aphex Twins Selected Ambiance playing in the background - for all the world seeming like the scene in Fight Club where he just lets the wheel spin and come what may.


Apart from the girl - she was screaming but I wasn’t really listening - I mean I can remember her face - but not the sound - well, that is how it goes in the dream.


Could have been the whisky.


So I haven’t driven much since - and I always figured it was circumstance rather than actually avoiding it - up until last night I’ve never really given the incidents themselves much thought - and by that I don’t mean the stupidity of the situations or the possible consequences etc - I mean the experience itself - which I don’t remember as frightening or terrifying - quite the opposite - leading to questions of how wasted was I that I though a hi-speed car crash was peaceful - but really, it just seemed quite surreal more than anything else.


We were in the bar last night and another round of Sambuca arrived at the table - I dutifully downed the distasteful dirge and reached for the JD and coke to wash it down - my body reacted instantly to dispel the evil within - watering eyes, deep gasps and taking a moment to concentrate on not upchucking - it was an automatic reaction to drinking something disgusting - it didn’t matter that I wasn’t drunk or that I have no other problem with any form of alcohol - the body wanted rid of it and wasn’t in the mood for argument - however, I did argue and I won in the end - but the body had made it’s point - No More Sambuca or I would be losing my chin pretty fast and upchucking in a not so quiet corner.


So I’m thinking that the body and deeper reaches of the mind are subconsciously running the show called my life - that I’m being tricked into thinking my conscious thought is making decisions when really there are some automatic choices made for me - for my protection - where instinct is overstepping it’s usual duties and getting involved with conscious decisions, taking over - Jedi mind trick style - instinct has looked at conscious thoughts track record and decided to step in - sort of inner monologue along the lines of:



You don’t need to drive a vehicle
You aren’t very good at it
It’ll endanger us all
You might not have been scared by that last experience with the crash in Jakarta
But the rest of us vital organs sure where and we’ve decided no more driving.
You can’t even park for Christ’s sake!



As though my instinct has decided my mind can’t be trusted and has taken command of the master controls - and telling me that I no longer drive because of circumstance - when really it’s just not a very good idea.


(I think like this thanks to this evenings consumption of Jameson’s Whiskey and something I saw during a family holiday to America when I was about 13 - we were in the Epcot centre and there was this film where Norm from Cheers and a few other people where all in charge of different areas of the body, running it like a factory with orders getting passed down from the management in the brain - all supposedly working together to get you through the day)

Spo | May 6, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Personal

May 5, 2006

It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day……..

From Wedding reception dance off's to Bow tie penguin suited Tea trade dinners at the Savoy in London - from legendary days of drinking and football with my brother, to musing on the contemplative come what maybe of life round the corner - tis a week that has had my head in a spin...

The next cuppa is served in the tea tasting adventure and monkey business brews on the horizon.....

I like the view....

Spo | May 5, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK

April 28, 2006

You Don’t Like Rice Michael?…..

Credit card company called and asked if I’d spent 850 pounds in an Indonesian beauty parlour yesterday - as it happens the first thing I thought was how on earth do you spend 850 quid in an Indonesian beauty parlour? and then I told himno - not recently - they removed all the suspect activity from my statement and told me to cut the card up - someone on the other side of the world had gone shopping with it - but in the end I wouldn’t have to pay - so it was all OK.

The moral of the story is that MBNA are quite handy at making sure you don’t get ripped off and also that when you come across a too cheap to be true DVD site based in Thailand - it is in fact probably too good to be true and you shouldn’t buy things from them with your credit card.

Doofus award pour moi.

Tea Retail company we supply sent some folk over to discover the world of tea and choose new products - they wanted to mess around with fruit teas, Rooibos, Peppermint, Chamomile and Green teas - my boss kind of over elaborated on the charm offensive and probably scared the crap out of them - you could see the jokes tumbleweeding across the tasting room - the constant stream of technical tea chatter was going in one ear and out the other as glazed eyes looked around for some sort of excuse to get the hell out of there - my boss seemed oblivious and just steam rollered his way through the day regardless of his obviously wilting audience.

They work in a large multi national corporation that runs the rule over its workforce like something from George Orwell’s 1984 - they have directives sent down to them saying that they must have a paperless office within a week and must dispose of all In-trays and filing cabinets - they go on team building exercises where they wear different coloured hats to show how they are feeling inside - they are limited to one personal item per desk - they no nothing about the job they are doing and manage to get through days by looking interested, nodding and saying yes a lot while reversing any question asked of them back in the opposite direction - people are never sure if they are going to be sacked or not - that kind of thing.

My boss is a very frustrating strange little man sometimes, but I sure as hell prefer dealing with him to working in their bureaucratically fucked up nine-to-five nightmare of a scenario.

They were good people though - especially the feisty blond girl smuggling pillows - she looked like she had a few tricks up her sleeve - ahem - anyways, I let my boss continue his spiel for most of the day and chipped in where necessary - one of the girls turned and asked about whether Green tea was really any better for you than Black tea and if it really was as beneficial to your health as it’s made out to be - I thought about launching into a lengthy explanation of how during production, the earlier you prevent oxidiation, the more anti-oxidants will remain and how these were important in fighting off free radicals inside the body, preventing numerous ailments such as the spread of cancerous cells for example - that unlike black tea, Green tea doesn’t go through a fermentation period before drying and that therefore there would be more anti-oxidants present.

However, when I saw that the day was getting long and people were looking for something short, sharp and to the point, I simply said that it was just like Kiefer Sutherland says in the Lost Boys How can a billion Chinamen be wrong?

Spo | April 28, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK

April 21, 2006

4/20 - time for a time out for old times sake…..

Suitably for 4/20 my head is all over the place today - life has jumped up a notch - escalated in fact - I didn't kill anyone with a trident or anything - but it has still been fairly eventful.

Now I gotta get my head round the whole agreeing to throw my chips in the air and see where they lay and up sticks for Rotterdam - fitting that the day the deal is done is April 20th and I'm off to Holland - the date timing is all in the hands of the powers that be across the water - some time in May they say - gotta get a few things sorted this side but I never really settled since returning last November and most of my stuff is still in boxes to tell the truth - just the issue of the flat I bought - that isn't finished - rent or sell?....

Think about that another day - for now I'm not contemplating the if's but's and maybe's of all and sundry to come - all I am appreciating is that there are if's but's and maybe's to contemplate in the first place as I know for sure if I'd of stuck at it here then I could safely predict the in's and out's of each and every working day for the next 10 years or so.

So I guess here I sit - the calm before the storm - whirlwinds on the horizon - so sit back and relax - appreciate fine fortune - the cusp of new adventures - whisky - and the fantastically fuzzy reason behind why today is 4/20 for lackadaisical loafing monkeys with their heads in the clouds everywhere - and deal with all that rest of my life tomorrow.....

Spo | April 21, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK | Kaneheads Kompanion | Personal

April 20, 2006

88mph….

Well there was a bomb scare, our bags got lost for a few days, I spent over 200 quid in strip clubs, one day out of 8 sober, saw my friends have an outstanding wedding, successfully dodged the sun but possibly cracked a rib and returned to find and take up an offer to continue my tea tasting adventures in Holland and work and live in Rotterdam.


What a week.


Don’t worry I’ll explain - starting below....

Spo | April 20, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK | Kaneheads Kompanion | Personal

April 20, 2006

Bears Bomb Scare Bonanza….

One of the highlights of my holiday was the Heathrow Bomb Scare at 7am on Sunday 9th of April - you see after checking in and munching brekkie, myself and my friend Bear were about to go through to departures - suddenly a good old fashioned beginning of the holiday season bomb scare announced itself - what this meant for everyone the wrong side of the passport gate was that they had to pile out into the car park for an hour and a half of muchos standing around freezing your ass off tom foolery. What it also meant was no access to the toilets.

Bad news for my friend Bear.

After about 20 mins he seriously needed to drop the kids off at the pool and there was no way the police would let him back in the building to use the nearest gentleman’s arena. He strutted around like Tarquin the pucker faced Ostrich boy - taking deep breaths and doing an awful lot of squinting - it was one of the funniest sights I have ever been privileged to witness and then tension of will he? won’t he? - was unbelievable.

Eventually the bough was on the verge of breaking and Bear had to make a polite waddle to the lifts down to the car park.

A murky corner of short stay car park level 3 will always hold a special place in Bears heart as this was were he found release from his woes.

Some poor station wagon owning family is going to come home to find a nasty surprise waiting for them by the drivers side doorway.

The true sincere wrongness of it all.

Spo | April 20, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK | Kaneheads Kompanion

April 8, 2006

Perfect send off!…..

10 quid each way on Numbersixvalverde winner of the Aintree 2006 Grand National!!!!!!!!!


= 150 quid winnings to blow on Cyprus!


Gran always did say I was destined to be lucky after being born on a Sunday!!


Hurrah!!!!!!

Spo | April 8, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK | Kaneheads Kompanion | News | Personal

April 7, 2006

The King of Organised Living….

Up until yesterday I hadn’t really given much thought to the impending week ahead - in the early AM of Sunday I’m flying to Cyprus for my friends wedding - they’re first of those amongst us to get married from the group who have pretty much stayed freinds since we were all 11 or 12 years old - time flies.

Danvers asked advice on his best man speech - would you laugh if someone got up and said ”I first met the bride and groom in the middle of a orgy gang bang in some Soho sex club - there were tits and arseholes everywhere - much like there are before me here today!”

Boom-Boom.

room killing penny dropper?

or surfs the wave of good natured early drunkeness and gets a laugh?

He said it’s too risky even though he himself laughed his ass off.

The last 24 hours I’ve been getting my head around what time I’m flying, what I do about my ticket, who I’m flying with, which airport, how I’m gonna get to the airport, insurance, clothes.... oh yeah and the 10 or so hours of music I was supposed to have selected, organised and burned onto CD’s for the after wedding drinks in the bar general tom foolery.

So I thought this would be easy - get I-tunes, sort in order of ratings and genre etc etc - but I realise that my collection requires a bit of gardening - should do it as you go really - for collections that are ever growing via the borrowing, buying and stealing form like minded musical folk, a spot of weekly gardening is necessary - ratings, song names, deleting chaff and duplicate tracks.....

If you don’t do it your chances of being able to simply select 10 hours worth of tracks and get around to sorting them in suitable genius mix tape fashion are severely hindered somewhat.

Now then - these people aren’t gibbons nor have they given any particular guidance to what they really want to hear - the CD i burned featuring a lot of the list below is up their street - it’s music for the bar, not for dancing around to - I don’t have to choose chessy floor fillers, stomping techno or old time sing a long classics - I just have to choose good music that most modern musically minded monkeys will appreciate - not too fast - not too slow.....

at a glance....

Thievery Corp, Jack Johnson, Bloc Party, Yeah,Yeah,Yeah’s, White Stripes, Surfjan Stevens, Death Cab, Jimi Hendirx, Ice Cube, John Legend, Kanye West, G-Love, Arctice Monkeys, Finlay Quaye, John Butler, The Editors, Arcade Fire, Broken Social Scene, The Constantines, Hard-Fi, The Fugee’s, TCQ, De La Soul, Jurassic Five, Snoop, John Mayer, Chemical Brothers, Sia, Zero 7, The Bee’s, Fiest, Kings of Convieniance, The Coral, Damien Rice, Foo Fighters, Nirvana, Idlewild, Elbow, Interpol, The Doves, The Killers, Kaiser Chiefs, The Dears, Micheal Jackson....

and Billy Ocean

C’mon - you can’t ignore the Ocean.

Anyways - dipping into my music collection I can already see that this is all going to take me some time - early hours type stuff - but good quality time wasting none the less - give me advice or additions to make via the comments section. I can get anything I need off the net as long as I know the title I’m looking for.

I’m gonna get me a huge list of tracks I think are quality - then I’ll pace it out - break it up - burn it all.

Sure not everything is going to suit the mood and occasion - but I’ll get to that later - right now I just need a huge list of kick ass tracks.

I also think Whisky may help my decision making - it usually does.

And once I’ve finished this all I have to do is find my passport.

muchos gracias people - I’ll post when I can over the next week...

Spo | April 7, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK

April 6, 2006

Obviously….

Why do you always look so god damned tired al the time?

Well it’s a combination of not being able to say no to a drink and the entire series of the Soprano’s playing out at 11.35pm weeknights on More4.....

Fairy nuff.

Spo | April 6, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK | Film / TV / Music | Kaneheads Kompanion | Personal

April 4, 2006

Incoming! Take cover!……

Man oh man oh man oh man - feeling so ruined and broken - did well to get to the end of yesterday afternoon and then went out for dinner with a long lost good friend of mine - I was paying, she was driving, I was listening, she was interrogating - so I finished all the wine and tried to bluff but kinda got lost for words as my approach to love, life and the future was dissected over the course of the meal - I have answers to such questions on a good day - not on a day of recovery from the wknd just past - wrong day to try and see what makes me tick when the all I got is the weekends whisky coursing through my veins.

One side of us there was one of those beautiful couples that have nothing to say to each other - are you a natural blonde? - is that a good car or.... is it like a car that is kinda good? - other side sat two girl friends who where a bit too quiet and where a bit too close to us, so I end up feeling like I'm on trial in the eyes of all woman kind - they listened in knowing I was in trouble.

"...So what kind of woman do I want to meet? What am I doing about it? Why hasn't it happened so far? What is it about the relationships with the women friends closest to you that teaches you about what you do and don't want from an actual relationship? Why didn't you take things further with the women you've been involved with in the past? If certain situations were your fault and you recognise that now, why did you not recognise it then? Is it that you are chasing after impossible situations as you know that way you'll never actually have to face up to being in a relationship and can wallow in the misfortune you purposefully create? Why do you think you have to be the one to try and impress and say all the right things? Can't it be the other way around? Who needs lines when both people being themselves is better anyway? Why does the flat, car, money and physical appearance have to come before getting to your love life? Won't there always be another 6 months until my life is in order?...."

I'm not kidding - and that's just what I can remember - coming in quick fire fashion as I sink beneath the red waves of some fine South African number and just try and get a word in edgeways every so often.
She may have had her moments of clarity along with madness in equal degree - and It's not that I disagree with all of what was levelled or don't have answers given a moment to consider.

It's just that I really would of rather been tucked up in bed than under the spotlight....

...Gods honest is that I think that being out of shape, living with your parents, no car, needing to save what ever money I can towards the flat that I manage not to waste on drinking and not knowing where to start when it comes to an opening gambit kind of puts such designs on hold for 6 months until I get some of the aforementioned sorted out.

"you always seem to be recovering from a hangover of some variety....." she said...

Spo | April 4, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK | Personal

April 4, 2006

Prima….

Since Friday I’ve been pretty much doing what I love - good company, cracking music and a lot of drinking.

Consequently my new address is:

Hurt Locker
Head of Rock Street
Punishedville
Brokenland
PA1N 0WW

Oooohh the things we love that hurt us so much in return.......

Like Whisky, poker and 6AM

Spo | April 4, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK

March 29, 2006

And all you see is where else you could be…..

Hmmmm..... I don’t know what I’ ve got today....


I’ m listening to Smashing Pumpkins ”1979” at the moment - reminds me riding around high in my friends car - sticking my hand out the window and pretending it was a dolphin as I let it dip and dive against the wind.

Always laughed at how my brother looked like that little long haired hippy kid fighting his way through the crowded party in the classic video.


Death Cab follows and a track that has a line about every love that could’ve been If i’d only thought of something charming to say.


I went past the place I used to work when I was 18 today - clothing mail order company - gaggle of worn down women sniping behind each others backs as soon as one left the room - taking phone orders for ill fitting cardigans and tweed jackets for the elderly and misguided.


In the middle of it all, Kirsty and I used to conjure cheque cashing scams and quietly sloped off for Mari-jo and munchies at lunchtimes - only to return in a dub daze haze and spend the rest of the time dodging the fierce Chinese Gestapo style whip-cracker who managed the office.


Kirsty always did take her smoke better than me - perhaps she spent so much more of her time stoned that no one really saw any other side of her. I would go all panda eyed and red-Chinese and have to go and hide in the warehouse.


We bought our first ever big batch of Mari-jo together - she put up the cash (and smoked her profit) while I took care of sales and distribution - started out badly when I stored 11 ounces in my parents loft and the weight dropped due to the bags sweating around all that insulation - schoolboy error - in the end we blagged our way to success though - an entertaining entrepreneurial relationship was born that would become the cornerstone of local quality for years to come.


Then the Cheques - she handled the double refunds and I the fake orders - we seriously abused that no questions asked returns policy.


I’ d hang on her calls and drop everything whenever she turned up - close friends could see it wasn’ t going where I hoped and I’ d resent them for their advice - sure, I wasn’ t stupid, but I was choosing to see more of what I wanted than what was really there - lying in wheat fields getting high all afternoon together, talking about life on the moon and how we’ d travel to India and go get us some of that fine chariss they like smoking so much of - eventually I would tell her I thought loved her and that would be the end of that.


Over the weekend during a no doubt drunken moment I don’ t recall - I sent Hanh a message - she’ s with family on maternity leave staying out by the sea a while - baby boy is doing fine - couple of months old now - I began by saying I wanted them both here with me - when ever she wanted to I’ d be ready - that I loved her - she replied saying how happy that made her - that she knew that’ s a big word for me - that we had a really special time that cannot be forgotten.


One that I remember for all the right reasons - and perhaps choose to forget the wrong ones.


And all you see is where else you could be
When you’re at home

Spo | March 29, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK | Personal

March 28, 2006

Seeing as it’s you….

The weekend up in London was much needed - drinks and catching up with folk in Wimbledon was all well and good, but getting back to Anna & Phil’s later on and just slipping into a groove with someone you know so well and haven’t seen for a while - it counts for a helluva lot when life is grinding you down and you just enjoy the good company.

We got back round 11ish and Phil crashed early on leaving Anna and I to destroy bottles of red wine, smoke too many Marlboro’s, raid the fridge and go head to head on some genius PS2 quiz game called Buzz - music quiz show that comes four special controllers and is absolutely feckin genius in so many ways - music plays - questions come up - like song title, year of release, artists name or anything else connected - you’ve got four answers to choose - few themed rounds to go through - sounds standard stuff right? but add alcohol, years of friendly rivalry, smug bragging rites and some sort of forfeit to the loser and it is the best game I’ve played since Halo 2.

Well it’s the only game I’ve played since Halo 2 actually - but still - quality times were had - until some sort of 3am looking hour of the morning.

I also discovered that I may need expensive glasses due to the ”it’s a whole new world” effect of wearing Anna’s for a bit.

However that could of been the wine and the time.

Next morning I took my bedraggled-still-fuzzy-drunk self back early doors - I was intending to put on a number one good-son-angel-boy performance for mothers day - the train back from Big Smoke to the village was broken up 3/4 of the way at Basingstoke, where the train company laid on buses to take folk the rest of the way due to track repairs - bus driver explained to a grand total of five of us that he was only going to the stations listed as part of the train route - although he’d make an allowance for the village before mine due to the station being a mile out of the way in the sticks - I politely asked if it was cool for him to drop me in the next village centre along the road some where (like for example, an actual bus stop) - old man jobsworth bureaucrat from hell said NO!

As he explained in one of the most dumfounding statements I’ve ever heard “you see I only stop at the train station - this isn’t a bus - it’s a train”

....and I just let that hang there for a while.....

.....as I looked around on the bus he was driving and I was travelling on.....

I could of protested that it wasn’t a train - it was in fact a bus - as it blatantly was - I could of protested that he was proposing to drive past the bus stop more or less next to my house, through the centre, all the way up the hill and then deposit me at a train station I would then have to walk all the way back from in the rain - I could of protested that whether he was allowed (you see, he is driving a “train”) to stop at an official bus stop or not was irrelevant as what kind of person would report a bus driver for dropping a passenger off? and if such a person existed what is the likelihood of such a person being at that exact spot he drops me off at during the 2 seconds it would take?

I could of said all these things - but then I would be challenging his authority and right or wrong, I wouldn’t win - I’d just make him angry and then it would be all the more satisfying to take me a mile and a half up to the train station and laugh to himself knowing I was walking all the way back in the rain - no, he was the driver and, by then, I was the only passenger - the only thing to do was keep quiet and hope he’d realise the stupidity all on his own.

I let it brew a while and then we passed a traffic jam caused by Sunday tractors (a fairly large procession of jolly looking farmer types who get their kicks driving at 5mph while a queue to angry motorists fills up behind them on impossible to pass country roads) - aha - suddenly we had a common bond - hatred of the tractor people - now we were no longer driver and passenger at odds - we were brothers against tractors - a unifying force of agreed denunciation for the tractor types:

“Tractors - I might have known”
“They’re going to hell, you know”
“Driving like they’d take a long time getting there”
“Reckon one of those motorists is going to speed up the process soon with a bit of road rage”
“Tractors - I fucking hate tractors”
“And the fat jolly farmer bastards that drive them”
“Aye lad, aye - well said”

Job done - as we entered my village and my house approached I did my best meek and resigned to my fate impression and sure enough he pulled in and opened the doors.

“go on then - jump out quick - seeing as it’s you”

Spo | March 28, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK

March 27, 2006

Dooley is back…..

When I woke I decided that If I had to put a price to how much I would pay to have the day off work and spend it in bed then I reckoned 50qiud would be about right.

After walking into the wind and rain and catching an overcrowded train with spirit crushing headache, that price rose to a cool 100.

But bed won’t get me anywhere - even though it is smashingly comfortable - and recent ructions at work mean that ringing up sounding bedraggled and battered, begging for a day off on a Monday morning would not paint shiny happy pictures of me for my boss to pin upon his fridge door - it would only etch another line upon his anguished frown in my general direction - and lordy knows the craggy old bastard has enough of those already.

To be fair to him the last two weeks have not been that bad - I can see he is making attempts to improve the atmosphere by not screaming and shouting the moment he senses opposing views and I am doing my very best impression of a meek and spindly orphan child who just wants to find a warm doorway to sleep in over Christmas - this situation will continue for a few more weeks and he’ll eventually have thawed enough to have a sensible conversation about the fact that I don’t have very much work to do and would quite like to be given something to get my teeth into - other than clock watching and trying to understand how it is possible for lunch time to seem like five minutes, yet three in the afternoon lasts for around about fifty three thousand four hundred and thirty two minutes.

Again - another worthwhile area of investigation for those pesky scientists to get their note pad and stylo out and have a gander at - rather than puzzling about buttered bread landing buttered side down and why it is people don’t like the idea of blue food.

Talking of pesky scientists I remember Beverley sent me a story that conjured recollections of two posts I wrote many moons ago - they concerned how meddling with nature ended up making Sharks into evil megalomaniacal genius’s who are even more dangerous and powerful than ever before, when all the scientists were trying to do was cure Alzheimers (the actual plot behind the Deep Blue Sea) - and how this kind of thinking always ends up creating sublime Z-movie disaster such as the Glass Trap and Frakenfish.

You see real life pesky scientists are actually planning to turn sharks into “stealth spies” capable of tracking vessels undetected - They want to control the sharks by implanting electrodes in their brains and steering them via remote control - the research is apparently being funded by the Pentagon’s Defence Advanced Research Projects Agency (DARPA),


You can see it now - after a sudden increase in Shark Attacks around the beaches of a small American coastal town, hard bitten maverick local cop Chad Lowery is staring open mouthed in disbelief at protesting pesky scientist Dennis Penickity who exclaims -We never wanted this to happen! We were just trying to create super shark spies to protect America! We didn’t realise they’d turn and bite not only the hand that feeds them but any other hand in the surrounding 100km area!!

And Chad says - God damn scientists! when will you realise that if you meddle with nature - nature meddles back

(Suggestions as to whereabouts the use of the word motherfucker would be best placed in the aforementioned quote are very much welcome)

Spo | March 27, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK | Kaneheads Kompanion | News

March 26, 2006

Bet that’s trouble brewing….

Liverpool crushed Everton and this was the third game of recent weeks were I’ ve been justifiably positive of the winner before the game - not fairly sure - not a hunch - I knew - I knew Portsmouth were going to batter West-Ham away the other week, I knew Liverpool were going to batter Birmingham last Tuesday - betting on the outcome of the winner doesn’ t really pay out great odds - however, if you put enough money on then you can get a decent pay out should all go to plan

1000 on Liverpool to win vs Everton would of paid out 500 quid plus your money back - now if you’ re fairly positive they are going to win that’ s an easy 500quid - the rule is never bet what you can’ t afford to lose - 1000quid would certainly put me in the hurt locker - and after moving in to my place I’ d never consider doing it - but during this transitional period while the flat is being built, I could pay it off over a few months if the worst happened ....... hmmmm

I think the problem with this picture is that the attraction for me isn’ t really the 500 quid - it’ s the risk of doing something so stupid and the rush while watching the game.

Explaining the above to Anna she quite obviously pointed out how truly ridiculous this whole idea is and berated me for even considering it.

I pointed out how if I’ d put the bet on I’ d of taken 1000quid - moved it around a bit during 90mins - put it back and found 500quid out of nowhere which we could then of gone and spent on tickets to New York for the weekend - just like that.

She paused for a few seconds before reiterating that I was an idiot.

You see I also think it’ s not the most sensible thing that my mind has ever conjured up - but my pauses last a lot longer than a few seconds.

All I’ m saying is that it’ s a good thing the Portsmouth vs Arsenal game was called off this weekend.

Currency Converter

Spo | March 26, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK

March 25, 2006

This moment could last forever….

The Week has flown by on fast forward - apart from the days spent recovering from the nights before - wasted on Tuesday - Wednesday could have been a week unto itself - wasted on Thursday - Friday felt like it would never end.

I hope there are scientists looking into the correlation between the manipulation of time and hangovers.

Heading to London in an hour or so - It’s going to be a long lasting weekend......

Spo | March 25, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK

March 22, 2006

Double Take x 20….

Guy got on the train this morning and seemed to clock me reading the paper - he seemed nervous and tried to find a seat on the next carriage down with no luck - then I realised - this “guy” was in fact some random girl I went to school with - who now, thanks to hormone replacement therapy on the NHS, is called Danny, has a full on Goatie beard, broad shoulders and is apparently sleeping with the hefty girl from the local supermarket checkout.

There’s a “no fucking way” to start your day if ever there was one.

Spo | March 22, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK | Kaneheads Kompanion

March 21, 2006

Grumph…

A typical St Patricks day ended with me arguing about the loch ness monster and passing out on my friends floor. Next morning I awoke with a piece of jam toast stuck to my head gasping for water - I tried to cancel the rest of the day and settled in watching Soccer Am and betting money I don’t have on the afternoon footie.

Sure enough I was lured out again that evening to waste more money in the megatouch machine, witness appalling mixing at the local pub dance music extravaganza and observe how chavvy, loud, bug-eyed blokes excel at making this village the last place on earth that single women with an ounce of sense would go anywhere near. The evening ends with bad take-away munch and too much vodka at a mates place.

UK small town village life pretty much plays out to this tune on a weekly basis and it doesn’t really take you anywhere outside the comfort zone that’s so easy to slip into - before I know it I’ll be 29 heading to 30 getting fatter and duller by the day - I need to get myself down the gym, save some money, get my flat sorted and start trying to do more than grin inanely at the opposite sex.

Spo | March 21, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK | Personal

March 17, 2006

You don’t say…..

So the circus was passing Loch Ness and they stopped for a rest - the ringmaster streteched his legs, yawned and thought to let the Elephants go for a swim while having a smoke. Then some random Scotsman fishing by the loch thought he saw a monster - clicked a camera - and a tourist industry was born.
Makes sense to me - this is a theory that can hold a persons attention for a few minutes (so is a good subject for a post, especially when I’ve only got a few minutes myself) and it also amuses mildly drunk people enough to earn a free pint.


Unfortunately it is not one that impresses women sufficiently enough to encourage them to sleep with you based on the eyebrow raising quality of this story alone.

Spo | March 17, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Kaneheads Kompanion | News

March 16, 2006

The Path of Chuck….

Ezekiel 25:17. “The path of Chuck Norris is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is Chuck Norris who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak (basically anyone who is not Chuck Norris) through the valley of darkness, for he is truly not only his brother’s keeper but everyone else’s keeper and the finder of lost children (and anything else that he wants to find).

And Chuck Norris will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy Chuck Norris. And you will know my name is Chuck Norris when I lay my vengeance upon you with a roundhouse kick to the face”

Submit your own Chuck Norris fact here

Spo | March 16, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Kaneheads Kompanion | Ojeni | Videos & Links

March 14, 2006

See the pattern doofus….

Last two days back at work have been fairly punishing - not because of the pain in my side but more because of my boss - I’ ve tried to find a way to wrangle a move elsewhere and it hasn’ t come off - really should start working on a CV and keep my head down I guess.

I’ ve responded in written form to the letter he sent me and will hand it to him tomorrow - crux of it is to politely point out the injustices and inaccuracies he lists and also to state that he hasn’ t given me a clear idea of what he is expecting in terms of success and achievement - because I have no idea and it seems there was no real job here apart from that of admin monkey - I wrote it out a few times - the first attempt was fairly anger fuelled in tone - the more I refined, the less angry I got.

You see, in the end, it’ s my fault - not that my boss is asshole - but that I thought he wouldn’ t be - especially after working for him years ago - and in the end, plenty of folk told me it wasn’t a good idea to come back - and I should of put more thought into the offer and worked the money out a little better before I hastily accepted and signed the contract - plus I should of asked for a clearer description of the responsibilities of the role.

So what was I thinking? Well I wasn’ t happy in Jakarta - in so far as the city was a shithole and the job was going nowhere and I was drinking too much - the options thereafter were probably either Holland or the UK - the UK had family and friends and my bosses false promises - Holland had a dull grey cloud of unknown and I’ d been away for three years. I should of fought to stay in Vietnam longer I suppose - hindsight - is a bitch - but tell the truth I thought I wanted out of there as well towards the end...seeing a pattern here - i never end up anywhere I want to be for any longer than a year.....

Ah well - I didn’ t think it out and now with the option of Holland no longer available I only really have myself to blame - best stop bitching about it - consider it’ s a better situation than most have and figure out my next move - at the end of the day my boss may indeed be a complete and utter arse but I do taste tea for a living, so I have a bit of a cheek complaining don’t I?

Hang in there, keep my head down, get the flat set up in a few months - job may not stimulate or take me anywhere fast, but it will continue to pay as long as I keep my emotions in check - I join the legions of people on this earth that hate their boss - rare fucking bird - and in the meantime I’ ll do my best to get drunk, get laid and not worry so much.

Although the getting laid part is tricky when you are out of shape, living with your parents and have no car.

And the drunk all the time part doesn’ t really help anything in the end apart from ultimately making me fat, angry and poor.

Apart from Whisky - for that makes me wise beyond all others it seems.

Of course I could protest that all will change in six months or so - once I’ ve recovered from the sharkbite I’ ll get back to the gym again and with a flat in the city means no need for a car and no awkward morning after situations such as by the way - mind out on your way down to get a cuppa - you’ ll likely bump into my entire family

Hmmmm..... Pause button for life would be good - I could press it and then go have a cup of tea and think about the next step instead of making bad choices too hastily.

Spo | March 14, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK

March 10, 2006

King of the Cameo….

How did Tony Scott - the man who made truly classic True Romance and the underrated Man on Fire, Spy Game and Last Boy Scout - end up making the truly atrocious Domino? he has way too many camera tricks on show - jump cuts, slow mo, fade out, rewinds, filters - noise noise noise noise - you feel queasy and confused watching this movie - guess it’s what happens when he isn’t reigned in and allowed to go crazy in the editing room - plus he’ll usually have great actors (Redford, Willis, Washington, Pitt) or writers (Shane Black, Tarantino) to back him up. In Domino he ends up with Knightly looking good but acting ridiculous and writer Richard Kelly of Donnie Darko fame really suggesting he had a lucky break with his parallel universe superhero tale of teen angst and that he may not be the genius Darko suggested.

After Cursed, Domino is probably one of the worst main-stream movies I’ve ever seen in my life - the supposedly true life story of a model turned bounty hunter - one who can burst into a room of hostile shot gun wielding drug dealing Mexicans and appease the situation by giving them a lapdance - really - one who practices nunchuck and knife throwing whilst an angry teenager so therefore qualifies for the role of bounty hunter after she throws a knife through Mickey Rourkes windshield - the whole plot made no sense what so ever, the camera could not sit still, soundtrack was atrocious - it was all so desperately trying to impress like a school girl in too much make up wearing a scarf as a skirt winking at the local club bouncer.

Worst of all it had these two fecking ass-munches from Beverley Hills 90210 running around for no discernable reason - sure it’s good to see cult TV stars of the crappy past turn up every once in a while - like the Hoff in Dodgeball - but 90210 should never be held in such comedic reverence - it was way too far up it’s own ass - there was never anything worth remembering from 90210 - apart from when Luke Perry tried a come back and turned up in Oz - the psycho prisoners ended up sealing him inside the concrete walls of the prison.


(spoiler warning if you’ve never seen Out of Sight - which you really should of by now)

Quality Cameo’s can always add that classic scene to a films running time - True Romance, whilst being possibly top of my all time greatest movie list, is probably also king of the scene stealers - like Christopher Walken as mafia emissary Vincenzo Coccotti going head to head with Dennis Hopper as Clarence’s dad, Clifford, in my one of cinemas true classic moments - then there’s Brad Pitt as true stoner Floyd, James Gandolfini (Tony Soprano) as a ruthless hitman, Gary Oldman as gangster pimp Drexl, Chris Penn & Tom Sizemore as gun happy cops - there were also smaller roles including Val Kilmer as Elvis, Sam Jackson as Big Don - but they are all mentioned in the credits - true cameos are when you have no idea they are about to pitch up and steal the show for a few minutes - like they were just calling past the movie set and someone blagged them into doing a scene.

From the simple touches like Sean Connery popping up as King Richard in Robin Hood, to Will Ferrels turns in Wedding Crashers and Starsky and Hutch - the way Adam Sandler and Rob Schneider always appear out of nowhere saying you can do it!! in each others films - the entire Anchorman battle in Legend of Ron Burgundy along with Jack Black’s dog kicking biker in the same - Samuel L Jackson as Rufus the piano player in Kill Bill Vol.2 - Brad Pitt and Matt Damon on the dating show in Confessions of a Dangerous mind - Chuck Norris in Dodgeball - Steve Buscemi (also a Sandler regular) as the Buddy Holly waiter in Pulp Fiction - Alice Cooper in Waynes World (-MillyWockay-) - Bruce Willis crops up in Charlies Angels 2 & Oceans 12 - Danny Glover in Maverick - Anthony Hopkins in Mission Impossible 2 - the Austin Powers Mix with Cruise, Spielberg, Paltrow and Devito - Micheal Keatons FBI character Ray Nicollete from Jackie Brown turning up in Out of Sight - Mark Hamil and Carrie Fisher in Jay and Silent Bob.

In Euro-Trip, Matt Damons uncredited rocker singing Scotty Doesn’t know about sleeping with the main characters girl was world class. But the greatest cameo of all time has to be Samuel L Jackson in Out of Sight - it’s not just a sly nod so folk can say Shit! that’s Sam Jackson!- it’s an integral scene right at the end of the film letting you know that although Jack Foley (Clooney) may have been caught by Karen Sisco (Lopez), she still sets him along the path to another escape by delaying his jail transfer - this allows him to sit with one of the most notorious prison breakers to have ever ended up in the American justice system - Jackson’s Hejira Henry - thus finishing off the movie perfectly as they realise their coming together was no coincidence....

Jack Foley: What kind of name is Hejira?

Hejira: It’s Islamic.

What’s it mean?

The Hejira was Mohammed’s flight from Mecca in 632. Brothers in Leavenworth gave me that name.

You were in Leavenworth?

For a time.

What’s that mean?

Means, when the time came, I left.

You broke out?

I prefer to think of it as an exodus from an undesirable place.

How long before they caught up with you?

That time?

There were others?

Yeah. That was the ninth.

The ninth?

Well, ten if you count that prison hospital in Ohio I walked away from.

You done a lot of walkin’, Henry.

Hijirah.

Hijirah....Now we’re off to Glades.

Yeah, it looks that way.

I was supposed to leave last night with the lady marshal, but for some reason she wanted to wait.

She did, huh?

Guess it’s cheaper taking two of us down in one van.

Could be.... Maybe she thought we had a lot to talk about.

Really? Like what?

I don’t know.....Long ride to Florida.

Sam Jackson is always stealing scenes - and this was his best - because this one you had no idea he was even coming.

Spo | March 10, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Film / TV / Music | Kaneheads Kompanion | Ojeni | Personal

March 10, 2006

Your plane will be leaving…. one day….

When you have one of those world is against me kind of days - listen to Moby - God moving over the face of the waters from the Heat soundtrack.

Well as far as the future goes, the plan to escape across the water is in stasis - best not to talk too much about work I guess - but overall it looks as though I’ m making an up to date CV and will be keeping my head down and saying “ yes sir” a lot once I go back next week - I could go out with a blaze of glory - but that would be kind of giving the guy what he wants in a way - best to bide my time and see what the next few months bring - at the moment the powers that be across in Holland think it can still be worked out here and say there isn’ t a trading post available with them at present - in the end I’ ve got to go careful with no obvious escape route - that whole Malawi bar & Hammock thing is looking distant - although my friend over there said to send my CV to him;

Who knows? a change of career and fly off to Africa? hmmmm…

Things always seemed planned out and now are suddenly up in the air with no direction.


On the plus side I went and checked up on the progress of my flat today and things are looking sweet and moving along towards an end of summer moving in date - I was getting worried as I’ d not heard anything for a while and wasn’t sure if they were playing things straight - but my uncle is a property developer and talked shop with the site manager - he came away impressed with how things are going and said that the place will have gone up in value once finished, probably September.

All I want is to get in my first place and feel like I’m going somewhere instead of the departure lounge for months on end.

Which applies to pretty much every aspect of life at the moment - work women and money - it’s all on the far off horizon that sometimes never seeems to get any closer - and while I can be thankful that there is at least a possibility of a flight - life time is of the escence and should not be unduly wasted.

Spo | March 10, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK

March 7, 2006

Roll the dice and let the game begin…

I drank too much wine whilst watching the Matador last night - the sort of film that came about on the back of the idea of James Bond being a gruff, sarcastic, hard drinking, perverted hitman who just doesn’t give a shit and having him make friends with some geeky tourist - sort of film that needs a lot more going on than this to make you watch it all.

Now, if they were on a plane and someone released a crate of snakes in the middle of the flight, I would’ve been hooked all the way to the end.

I woke this morning feeling pretty sickly and that feeling hasn’t left me all day - especially when I tried watching Domino which seems to have been filmed by a man on rollerskates.

When you are feeling like this contemplating your future isn’t advisable - the letter arrived around 9.30am and after reading it I think it’s safe to say that the best thing to do is engineer a move outta here and over to Holland.

My boss outlines a few incidents that have angered him, talks of how he is not impressed with my attitude or work so far and makes clear there’ll be no salary review until 2007 - that when he retires in 5 or 10 years time he cannot foresee passing the business into my care unless my attitude changes - he asks to wipe the slate clean and start again upon my return.

Don’t be fooled by that last sentence - the slate never gets wiped clean with this guy - he holds a grudge like no one I’ve ever met before - I could take him to task on every point he makes, however, I figure that the intention of much of what he says is set out to achieve two things:

First is to anger me - to get me to answer back point by point - get into another argument from which there can be no retreat - make it easy to bring about the termination of my contract

Second is to silence me - that I accept his words and outlook and return to the fold and play the sheep and don’t open my mouth for 5 to 10 years until he retires.

It seems you can’t win in situations like these - harsh words and confrontation with will just set up a scenario of being enemies against each other working for the same company - doing nothing consigns me to being a drone for ever more.

So you must plan you’re exit carefully - the only way to any move across the water has to seem like it was his idea all along - main thing I learned working in Asia - get the keys to what you want by getting those in possesion to think it was their idea to give them to you in the first place.

The dice rolls...

Spo | March 7, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK | Personal

March 6, 2006

Lets see what Tomorrow brings….

I thought I’d be Ok for work again today - but walking around or sitting up for any kind of extended amount of time kicks in on the pain front - in the end the doctors signed me off, everyone is telling me to take the week and that insurance doesn’t cover you if you go back to work against doctors orders.

All makes sense - but still, I suppose the reason I’m not at work at the moment is because I don’t really want to be there.

This isn’t an unusual state of mind for many folk - I appreciate - but then again I’ve been lucky enough to end up in a profession where a lot of the places I’ve ended up I’d of gladly gone to without the need for paying - working here in the UK office again - it wasn’t supposed to be a step back - but everything so far has made it seem that way.

The last day I was there - Friday 17th - my boss and I had a huge falling out - an argument that kind of set out our current states of play - one that, before I worked over in Vietnam 3 years ago, I would of backed down from and done as told - but now feel as though I’ve done enough on my own to have a voice worth listening to and to be treated with a little bit more respect.

Paradoxically I am at this stage in my career thanks to the initial backing and training from the man I was arguing with.

I don’t think I said anything out of order or over the top - grand scheme of life it could of perhaps been a subject that I could of let go - bigger battles to be fought and all that - however, to have let it go would of said more than actually having the argument in the end - and the silent words unspoken would of echoed for a lot longer - and they wouldn’t be speaking for me.

So to today - as our actual spoken conversations are always strained what ever the time of year, I emailed my boss to tell him that I’d be off another week as the doctor had instructed - that the scar was still in a bad way and I can only do so much, thanked him for his understanding so far - he replied saying that was fine and take the time - that there was also a letter waiting for me upon my return - that perhaps it would be better to send it now and let me mull it over - give it some thought - surely not a sacking as so much an acknowledgement that things are not working

So now there is a letter in the mail - what it says could very well determine my future - a very possible ”So now what?” situation....

Spo | March 6, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK

March 3, 2006

Films you may not have seen but should part 3:

Switchblade Romance is without a doubt the most fuck assed vicious evil nasty bastard piece of slasher heaven I’ve ever witnessed in my 28 and a halfshell years.

Two girls, a country house and a burly guy with mental problems and a chainsaw.

This film rocked the fuck out of crack town - it was outfuckingstandinglycalifragilistic from start to motherfucking finish - I’m not big on cursing for the sake of it - use it to add meaning were relevant - and by Jesus of the fuckmunch ponies is it fucking relevant here - I have never witnessed such sheer out right eyeball terror as I have while watching this movie.

If madmen chasing their kills before doing godforsaken evil Christ on a bike almighty freaky shit is up your street then this film is for you.

The new wave of horror surfed by the likes of Cabin Fever, Saw and it’s predecessor, The Texas remake, House of 1000 corpses, The Devil’s Rejects and the upcoming Hostel and Tarantino & Rodriguez’s Grind-house - they should all be judged before this movie rather than the aged, crusty, splatterhouse efforts of the seventies which, while constantly paid homage to and held in some sort of mystical reverence, are actually looking rather dated and comical in the eyes of today’s audiences.


I watched the original Texas Chainsaw and Dawn of the Dead recently and both don’t hold up too well against what we’ve become accustomed to - sure, they may have kicked things off and inspired many a movie maker - but that doesn’t mean they’ll stand the test of time - Dawn of the Dead’s uncut version is a soulless extended shopping centre commercial, while Texas Chainsaw comes across as a badly acted Benny Hill Skit these days.
This guy, Alexandre Aja, he’s remade Wes Craven’s the Hills Have Eyes? A movie about a family stranded out in the desert attacked a bunch of insane nuclear overspill hillbilly’s? Fucking A that will be a kick-ass ride into the darkness of the soul - he show’s here that he’s got the cojunes to carry off what ever he wants.

All the elements that need to come together for you to be terrified & tansfixed with tension are mixed to maximum effect in this movie - it’s not just the claret drenched gruesomeness blood curdling brutality - it’s the eyeball wide fear, knuckle whitening knife edge moments and eerie ominous soundtrack - it may not be original, but it sure as hell works when it’s all pulled off with perfection.

It’s a flat out fucking psychotic film of Tyrannosaurial proportions.

Spo | March 3, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Film / TV / Music | Kaneheads Kompanion | Personal

March 2, 2006

Lounge Sounds….

I awoke with a mini hangover - slight head of death and seemingly no water in my body - still took me a time to persuade myself to get up and go sort myself out - a running conversation in my head along the lines of I’m uncomfortable and water would be nice - but it’s so.... far..... away.....

Anyways Via Soul Rebel and on to Molly G I found a link to download the tune from the Zane Low Radio 1 Tv ad called “Crazy" by Gnarls Barkly.

I’m looking at you in particular here when I say Right click and save target as this it really is califragafuckinglistic.

Out on April 10th here in the UK it will probably be the sound of the summer.

But definitely good enough to warrant the airtime.

Spo | March 2, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK | Film / TV / Music | Kaneheads Kompanion | Videos & Links

March 2, 2006

Let the good times roll….

Chelsea vs Colchester in the FA cup - Loomis and I discussed, decided 3-1 was the score, got on toTotalbet.com - Joe Cole scored in 93rd minute and brought it all to come true - 3-1 to Chelsea and 100quid to us.


England vs Uruguay - Loomis and I discussed, decided 2-1 was the score - Joe Cole scored in 93rd minute and brought it all to come true - 2-1 to England and 75quid to us.


After these wins and the champions league chair, Totalbet.com hates us at the mo - I’m thinking of a career change.


As long as I can stop buying rounds of drinks for people in celebration.

Spo | March 2, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK | Kaneheads Kompanion | Personal

March 1, 2006

Damaged goods…

More 4 are showing a weeks worth of the extraordinarily talented Nick Broomfields documentary films to celebrate the screening of last nights His Big White Self - the 2006 follow up to the 1991 The Leader, The Driver and the Drivers Wife - focusing on the South African Tyrannosaurial Fuck Nut Eugene Terre-blanche - leader of the AWB and all round boil on the face of humanity - before and after his imprisonment.

Sometimes you don’t want to believe that people like Terre-Blanche and members of the AWB exist - that it is possible for someone to be that deluded - it makes you wonder if you could sit in the same room and try to talk reason & sense to them - try and fathom what on earth could be behind their beliefs and then slowly take it all apart piece by piece and leave no other explanation in front of them other than they’ve been wrong all this time - an epiphany comes a calling - a holy shit I’m an idiot moment.

Yeah right.

Education would usually be the answer - but when you see Eugene Terra Blanche - you realise there are people beyond the call of reason - and unfortunately all the intelligence, common sense and decency there is in the world doesn’t stop them from attaining positions of great influence and power until it is far too late.

In the end I go back to what one was my mothers greatest ever jewels of wisdom “Simon, you will be amazed at how many truly stupid people there are in the world"

And how dangerous they can become.

Spo | March 1, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK | Film / TV / Music | News | Personal

February 28, 2006

A picture says a thousand words to all UTD fans….

--------

Spo | February 28, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK | Kaneheads Kompanion | News | Personal

February 27, 2006

Tough as Rambo I tell ya….

Another day another loafing session – my former university persona is slowly taking over once again and I’m sleeping in until midday, no meals just snacking, perfecting my remote control abilities and exhausting the DVD collection – all from the laid back position of the lazyboy loafing behemoth that is the champions league chair.

You see, May 25th 2005, when Liverpool came back to win the champions league in inexplicable glorious fashion after being 3-0 down at halftime – I had good money on them at 10-1 placed sveral rounds earlier in a rush of the heart rather than mind – as God’s honest truth, we really didn’t look like we had a chance in hell – I forgot how much exactly was placed and then once the fervor of victory had passed I realised that I was suddenly in the money – money which was unexpected, unplanned and therefore available for the extravagant spending – and so became the Champions League Chair Of Comfort – he who has faith against insurmountable odds, shall be both victorious and comfortable. Oh yes.

Greatest purchase I’ve ever made.

And one that is truly paying for itself during these times of not being able to sit up properly due to this hoofing great sharkbitelike scar on the side of me.

I went to see the nurse to have the final staples removed today – there where 6 left – she took out 21 of them last week – when removed, they pinch like getting shot with a pellet gun from 50m – not too bad as punishments go, but you would still rather avoid it – 6 staples wouldn’t be much to complain about, however, one of the buggers had managed to get lost halfway into the scar (gruesome, nasty, I know) and the nurse, sweet old lady, had to literally dig around with these fecking steel pliers she had – it felt just the same either way whether she got it or not – so after initially getting by the first few attacks with a bit of wincing and gritted teeth, you get to the point where you want to indulge in a bit of exasperated cursing to help you through – problem was I didn’t want to offend the woman – so had to resort to cursing without actually swearing – which, in the spirit of Anchorman, can lead to some interesting combinations once you get past the usual “In the name of all that is Holy”:

Sweet Jesus’s playpen!
By the Bells of St.Christopher!
St Damien’s Trellis!
Cowpoke of Georgia!
Red Fire’s of Hadeese!
Gargantuan Yak!

(Please feel free to come up with your own exclamations in the comments section)

After she had finished I returned home all patched up with instruction to start trying to walk around a bit along with being signed off for another – yes another! – two weeks off work!

So tomorrow I’m going to try walking to the pub – and staying there – whisky is good for wounds – I saw Rambo use it – poured it on, set it on fire, winced a bit, sealed the wound and was off and running fighting the Russians seconds later – I may just drink it instead though....

Spo | February 27, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK

February 25, 2006

Back of the Net!…

My brother from another mother Barnes just texted me the following msg:

“I’ve just bought Martine a small skin tight Spurs top – and she wanted it as well! What a lady!”

One of the main reasons we men get into relationships is to get our girlfriends to wear the shirt of our favoured football teams in the bedroom – a tricky task to pull off, it’s the perfect coming together of the two greatest things in life – sex and football.


I salute you Brother Barnes!

Spo | February 25, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK | Kaneheads Kompanion

February 24, 2006

Badger Balaclava Bonanza…

The Rules of Quidditch -

Basically two teams of seven flying around on broomsticks trying to bat the ball through each others goal hoop and score 10 points per shot.

Meanwhile, one player from each side chases a flying golden blob called the snitch - once caught it’s worth 150 points and signifies the end of the game.

So the whole act of scoring goals at 10 points a time is kind of superfluous really.

Is it just me or is this the most ridiculous idea for an imaginary new sport since the dawn of time?

JK Rowling is writing in the realms of fantasy – endless possibilities – and this is the best she can come up with?

How did nobody notice Quidditch is Shit?

I mean give it five minutes thought and you could do better than that – go on – think about the idea of a whole new sport based in the realms of fantasy and what do you come up with?

I came up with Badger Balaclava Bonanza - in which two contestants are simultaneously put in separate cubed rooms that have many holes leading inwards via surrounding shoots - armed with only a backpack of chloroform infused balaclavas, they have to catch and subdue up to 20 fiercely angry badgers who have been pumped up on cocaine and fed chilli’s for 24 hours.

Once wrestled into submission, the Balaclava is placed over the snout, the unconscious badger can be dispensed with into the central badger bin - any un-balaclavad Badgers put in the bin are returned to the action immediately along with another bonus snarling striped fiend.

Contestants have to subdue all the badgers to escape - difficult as the rate of Badgers being emitted into the room increases as time goes by. Badgers will have nick names and particular styles of attack, haircuts and clothing to appeal to children and help with marketing (Ninja Badger! Cannibal Badger! Rambo Badger!)

A race against time and a race against death by angry badger savagery.

First contestant to dispense with all badgers wins 150 points.

Second place succumbs to badger overload and probable death.

And it doesn’t even require magic and is grounded in complete realistic possibility (if unlikely) - yet still infinitely better than Quidditch!

Hmmm......I have far too much time on my hands at the moment....

Spo | February 24, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Film / TV / Music | Kaneheads Kompanion | Ojeni

February 23, 2006

I am the Loafmaster!….

( click for more giant chinese cat pics)

I’m feeling a bit like a fraud to be honest – this amount of time off work for having your appendix removed – albeit one that was a little more difficult to find than the average bear – Still feels like a bit of a blag though – everyone remotely medically knowledgable tells me it’s major surgery, but I’m fine apart from that bloody great sharkbite looking 15 inch scar on the side of me….

I went to have the staples out today and the nurse dispensed with 21 of the little blighters (doesn’t half pinch) but she left 7 in there at the right angle part – she was horrified when I said I thought I’d be ok for work next week and when I go back to see her on Monday she’s going to sign me off for longer (cue imaginary backflip!) – she also asked if I’d been sticking to the script and actually resting up this last week seeing as it looks as though the scar isn’t healing as quickly as hoped - therefore indirectly accusing that I may not’ve been taking it easy enough.

Accusations which I refuted! I am the Loafmaster! no one knows how to take it any easier than I! Behold as I recover by watching DVD’s and generally doing feck all!

Apart from the incident when I forgot I was injured and tried running up the stairs, I have indeed been either sitting in my lazy-boy chair or lying in bed - hardly anything other than taking it easy - then again I suppose sitting upright at the computer hurts after a while and earlier on when I put on a pair of jeans with a belt wasn’t the most comfortable experience in the world - so I guess wearing a suit and sitting in the office all day along with walking to and from the train station wouldn’t be a great idea at the moment.

Still – Appendicitis with bonus extra scar work – recommended – probably more than two weeks off work for free and no real pain or discomfort as long as you watch a shit load of DVD’s and sleep a lot.

Anyways – while loafing I’ve watched Walk the Line (Johnny Cash Bio – standard rock star story fair but great central performances and cracking music) Waiting (Ryan Reynolds Restaurant comedy – fairly funny) Saw 2 (bloody horrible), Harry Potter 4 (fell asleep) and have Syriana, Jarhead, Goodnight & Good luck, Grizzly man, Stay, Hustle and Flow, The Matador, The Ice Harvest, Brokeback Mountain, Domino, Two for the Money & Undertow to get through once they arrive later next week.

Yes, I do know how to loaf like no other.

For anyone based in the UK with a multi region DVD player and a paypal account – check out Rounder DVD’s – pre-release section has the new cinema stuff and anything with an “Excellent” rating means quality is perfect – “very good” tends to be a dodgier affair – it’s reliable, quick and cheap and I can’t see any reason to pay high street prices ever again.

Don’t know how it’s allowed though.

Spo | February 23, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK

February 21, 2006

A few biscuits short of a packet perhaps…..

When I lived in Malawi I had this beautiful, entertaining, sweet and ultimately fucked in the head girl-friend called Debbie who was from Zimbabwe and liked drinking far more than necessary and smoking pipes of Malawi Gold Mari-jo during sex - once I left we kept in touch via letters and the odd phone call with promises to meet again one day - as you do - except she really took a hold of this youthful talk and i got a lot of drunken / stoned non-sensical phone calls at 3am where she would just basically scream, cry and sing down the phone at me while trying to fix a date for when we would be married and live haphazardly ever after.

This all came to a stop once she rang on valentines day in 2003 to tell me she was getting married and I reacted with a bit too much relief and exuberant joy - I soon after left for Vietnam and never heard from her again until returning to visit Uk shores and finding a letter telling me that in fact she wasn’t getting married and she only said that to gauge my reaction to such news and find out if indeed I really loved her.

This was a similar cunning ruse to the time she rang me out of the blue and pretended to be her sister and told me she was dead - you know, to erm..... gauge my reaction to such news and find out if indeed I really loved her.

Obviously the contact should of been cut off after the latter incident rather than the former as she was a bit of a psycho - but when she has all your relevant phone numbers and you live with your parents and they keep on answering the damn phone to her, there’s not much you can do apart from hang up - and I didn’t want to be cruel - so I moved to Vietnam instead.

Now then, my last three months in Jakarta I had this beautiful, entertaining, sweet and ultimately fucked in the head girl-friend called Yuni who was from Indonesia and liked drinking far more than necessary but thankfully didn’t make me smoke any really strong forms of Mari-jo during sex (it sounds like a good idea but I just end up forgetting what I’m doing).

Now I’ve left we’ve kept in touch via emails and the odd phone call with promises to meet again one day - as you do - except I’m wondering if she’s really thinking that one day I’ll fly her out to UK, with her daughter, we’ll get married and then I’ll pay for her whole damn extended family to live out the rest of their days in relative expat luxury - which isn’t going to happen, nor have I made any of the mistakes made with Debbie and led her up the garden path to believe such things (although truth be told there wasn’t much leading to be done - Debbie did live in a world of fantasy at times - and this was mostly to do with that really fierce Malawi Gold she was smoking) - we talked a lot about me leaving and we both knew that I wasn’t coming back to Indonesia anytime soon so we chalked it up to a good time had and agreed to never lose contact.....just in case....

Yuni and I had a good time together with the drinking dancing and late nights etc - we did the expat Jakarta scene with the fancy restaurants, clubs and cinema’s and I took up residence in the bar she worked in - but beyond that there wasn’t really too much to the relationship when it all came down to it. She does have a fierce independent spirit and she has got character in abundance but yeah.... she was a mental case sometimes.

Yuni rang up last week in a flood of tears asking me to call her back - I tried but couldn’t get through - texts and emails yielded no result - I figured I’d done what I could short of asking folk I knew to go see if she was at work and doing ok - then came the appendicitis and a week passed with no word - I was going to get one of my friends to call in and see if she was around when I got an email from her.

Turns out she is having arguments with the girls at work and she has lost her brand new mobile and thinks the security guards at the bar have stolen it - sure if the cost wasn’t pounds per minute then I’d gladly listen to her daily woes but at international call rates this is basically bullshit not worth bothering me with and certainly not the kind of thing to go off the radar after an out of the blue tearful phone-call.

Course she apologised in the email - but in the same text also wondered if I had been worried all week after not hearing from her.....

Spo | February 21, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK

February 20, 2006

Don’t Mistake Coincidence For Storytelling….

The good news is that feeling is returning on my right side around were they performed the operation – the bad news is that I now actually feel like there are 25 metal staples down there and I’m out of painkillers.

So, not much moving around today then – leading me to watch 9 episodes of Lost Series 2 in two days – all worthy loafing material, well, apart from the ones where they feel they need to do an hours worth of some lighter, insignificant non-relevant plot malarkey and remind you about the fat guy winning the lottery and how sad it made him.

I suppose they have only been there 45 days or so, but you’d think he’d show some signs of being less of a chunky butler – he’s on a desert island with meagre food rations and running around the jungle all the time – yet he still looks like the kind of guy for whom they remove the sides of houses to get them to go outdoors – turning up on Jerry Springer saying things like “I am magnetically drawn to cake in all it’s many forms – God appeared to me and proclaimed that I have to destroy the worlds cake supply in order to save America – I must eat every last crumb so no other will suffer – I’m cursed I tell you”

While I do enjoy Lost’s air of menace and mystery, I also worry that they’re promising more than they can deliver with the ever mounting questions and suspense – the whole scenario of “don’t mistake coincidence for fate” opens up a lot of possibilities for story telling as once you’ve got the audience buying into this theory you can pretty much chuck anything in there and get away with it – from the constant recurrence of that sequence of numbers, to the revealing of character connections in flashback – but the longer you string along the build up, the more grandiose and significant an answer everyone will expect.

I mean the X-Files started out as a few kooky freak show tales – modern day campfire stories coming to life and detectives sent to investigate – a bit of a back-story about Mulder’s sister getting abducted by aliens, but nothing too serious – then, the more it went along, the more it disappeared up it’s own backside - alluding to numerous hidden agendas at work and higher powers pulling all the strings - then finally it played too many cards and everyone lost interest and went off to watch something else instead – once it got to series 6 or so who really gave a monkeys what the secret behind it all was? we were all too bored, tired and confused by then.

“Don’t mistake coincidence for fate” – hmmmm don’t mistake the use of coincidence for a chronic lack of imagination I say – hopefully the people behind all this engrossing survivor story desert island kookery know that as well – don’t get me watching three series and then finally reveal that the government has been hiding the descendents of Christ on an island all these years - their day of rescue predicted in ancient scrolls that have foretold the identity of their rescuers to be a kid with hidden magical powers, a sexy fugitive chick you can’t quite trust, a doctor do good, a mystical bald wannabe army guy, a jolly nice Iraqi chap and a red-neck that all the women want to sleep with coz he’s a bad motherfucker who just don’t give a damn.

At least that’s what I think is going on anyway.

Spo | February 20, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK | Film / TV / Music

February 19, 2006

Looked after by the staff of St.Elsewhere….

After the spill in Thailand and the subsequent greatest bruise of all time, I had said that I was going to remain injury free in 2006 – with this 15 inch right angle scar (25 metal staples included) that ambition has now gone out the window and I’ll have to keep my head down from now on as regularity of injury is picking up a pace it seems – still, no broken bones yet.

Touch wood.

Thankfully I was with Anna last weekend and although she is now a high powered business bunny of note in the city of big smoke, she possibly may have missed her calling in life as the greatest doctor of all time – due to her mother being one of the greatest nurses on the planet, a vested interest in medicine and a stint working in a pharmacy, when my appendicitis came a calling she pretty much clocked it at the first time of asking - although I claimed I’d sleep it off she was fairly insistent that we would be needing to take a walk round the corner to Kingston hospital and by 2am with a pounding pain shooting up my right side – I was no longer arguing.

Every so often the National health does get a kicking in the press over here in UK – but I’ve always been fairly well looked after it has to be said – if anything I think there should be more direction and encouragement given to kids to look to a career in the health industry rather than to take up easy options of half baked former poly-tech business and media courses that ultimately lack content and meaning and are often cynical scams to extract tuition fee’s from students destined to drop out by Christmas (Universities being profit chasing as well as educating these days)

As far as I understand it (and my brothers and sisters across the pond please educate the finer details if necessary) having anything to do with the health profession in North America means that you will be fairly well minted for the rest of your days – over here it seems that you are more or less laying yourself at the feet of goodwill and under appreciation – worked to the bone and not paid anywhere near what you would be if you used the same amount of brain matter in the commercial world – you are making the sacrifice for the greater good and choosing the path that will help others rather more significantly than it will help you - and also making substantial bets with the rest of your days of learning that you will stay the course and see the end of the education process.

Kingston hospital was clean efficient and well run – you got three meals a day, a remote controlled bed, call buttons, drips, bed pans and a TV attached to a movable arm behind the bed that had cable, internet, phone and arcade games. There were always enough nurses running around, doctors gave you the impression they knew what they were talking about and no one was sitting around in agony waiting days on end to have overdue operations.

Most of the folk that dealt with me weren’t from the UK though – it was very much a United nations of the world effort in there- Nurses and doctors from the Philippines, Ghana, Kenya, Pakistan, Korea, South Africa and India helped me through my day – and not in a “my family lived here for 50 years and I’m all British as much as you” kind of way – they were working over here after studying and working in their own countries and then getting asked or accepted to come work upon UK shores. There were indeed British doctors and nurses around the place - but they were in the minority and in positions of seniority and experience rather than the make up of the majority.

Which I thought was fantastic – it seemed that work permits were being issued to fill genuine gaps in the market where there was a lack of suitable applicants from the home grown education system – either in numbers of level of achievement or application.

When it comes to who tends my bed in hospital, I don’t care where the person is from that is doing the tending – just as long as whoever it is knows what they are doing and that they are doing it in good time – that’s all that’s important when it comes down to it – but that’s the thing – if it’s a wage and career that is good enough for folk from far-a-field to fly all the way over here to take up – why doesn’t anyone from these shores seem to want the job first?

Money is the obvious answer but I don’t think it necessarily all comes down to wage – many of my friends are simply looking for direction in life – a career they can identify and work at to give them a path through the years to come – the health industry is never really sold via the education system – math’s, science, biology – all tough subjects and then to excel at all of them and follow all three to phd and master levels – it’s no wonder many flock elsewhere when the path is fraught with a high % of failure, huge workloads, long hours and little financial reward – but stay the course and you’ll be one from a pool of only a few rather than the many – job security.

Don’t get me wrong – I don’t think doctors and nurses are all earning minimum wage and doing the job out of love of the practice – sure, if you get to the end of the education I’d expect you’d be earning 28’000 to 30’000 as a top level nurse and up to 50’000 as a doctor – but then again a doctor is one hell of a clever cookie cruncher – if you are clever enough to cut someone open and fix what’s wrong before sowing them back up and sending them on their merry way – chances are you are clever enough to do anything you set your mind to – and many of those alternative choices will pay out much more than the ten hour shifts at the local NHS Hospital.

So I wonder is enough planning, thought and funding being put into our NHS and education systems if we don’t seem to have that many of our own doctors and nurses? There’s always want for more I guess – there’s always clamor for better funding, conditions, equipment, hospitals - but then again the other side of that is that I got looked after pretty well by the united nations of healthcare – and the reason that they were working here is that compared to their own countries, Britain offers better wage and living conditions for their profession – our economy being the reason behind this – our economy that is running so strongly thanks to all those folk who chose not to be doctors and nurses and work in the business sector perhaps?

Folk like Anna?

Spo | February 19, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK | News | Personal

February 17, 2006

Juice….

I was on the operating table waxing lyrical about the possibility of giving kids general anesthetic on long haul flights – the doctor said she thought the idea was appealing but practice would make it impossible – you’d have to hook them all up to drips and monitor their heart rates – there’d be a lot of equipment involved – it wasn’t just like taking a sleeping pill – ultimately far more expensive and far more work involved – best stick to slipping them shots of whisky in their drinks.

This was all going on as we waited for my own general anesthetic to kick in – they told me it wouldn’t be like shutting my eyes and then opening them to suddenly be presented with a whole new scene – I would awake with a strange feeling that time had neither passed nor continued – that something had taken place but no recollection of what - I guess memory just wouldn’t know what to do with the break in time as memory would be on shut down as well as the rest of me – but what ever the case it would be a strange feeling. The morphine would apparently help the surrealism of the whole experience.

I was determined to fight it – just to see if it was possible – try and stay conscious as long as I could – the nurse began the count down and the doctor said it would start to kick in any second – reminded me that there would be a slight pressure on the base of my throat that would temporarily restrict my breathing but that I shouldn’t worry – she was attractive and had a soft Scottish brogue to her voice – how could I worry?

Game time approached and I searched my senses for any indication – then there was a fuzzing of my outer vision and the light began to fade to centre of my focus – like a TV searching for reception for a second, then the bulb shuts off and your picture gets sucked into that little dot in the middle of the screen – as it kicked in I raised my hand pointed to the sky answering an imaginary quiz question “ah there it is I believe” – and suddenly I was gone.

I came round in a different room – started gabbling about tea samples – a new shipment and the need for fresh samples as soon as possible the nurse said – she humored me apparently “I’ll get right on it – just take it easy – everything’s in hand” – I looked around and the room was deserted apart from the big nurse from Ghana busying herself in the far corner – she would take me back up to the ward as soon as I felt ready – I had to keep looking around the place trying to figure out what the hell was going on and where I was – trying to remember why I was there – like your mind is a pit of honey and you have to delve deep to pull out any useful scraps of information.

I didn’t like the morphine – later I related it to how Eric Stolz felt at taking heroin for the first time at the beginning of Killing Zoe rather than Spud laying back and disappearing into the floor in Trainspotting – it was like I had a head full of water but the rest of me was airborne – a sickly haze abounded and nothing stayed at the focus of my mind for any longer than a few seconds – holding on to a scenario, conversation or train of thought seemed impossible – the nurse bared with me as I tried to get a handle on my moonbattery.

As far as fighting the general anesthetic went - I reflected later that maybe that’s how it is when your numbers up – everyone around you telling you to focus and stay awake – you know you’ve got to keep it together to stay around in the world a little longer – but when the body doesn’t have the juice it doesn’t have the juice – when the chemical forces are working against the will power, there really isn’t much you can do – can’t argue with the science.

Lights out sunshine.

Spo | February 17, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK | Personal

February 16, 2006

Ladies and Gentlemen we have an AWOL Mojo crisis…

I just have no game what so ever at the moment - listless lackadaisical little monkey am I

Tomorrow I’m going to try a day without painkillers and see how that works out - gotta say these bad boys don’t seem to come with any of the wonderful cushdy fucked up moonbat side effects akin to those I’ve had in foreign climes - the painkillers doled out in Indonesia, Kenya and Malawi - especially in Malawi - those bad boys had some killer side effects - (well, bad choice of words there - and in fact describing something as killer in any situation doesn’t sound to good really does it? makes me sound like a 14 year old videogame addicted skater boy jacking one off the wrist to the Pussycat dolls - anyways I digress) - guess our lawmakers are a bit too on the ball to allow that kind of chemical malarkey to make its way into the hospital drugstores of England.

Fuckers.

Anyways - I’ll have another go at sitting here for more than 5 minutes tomorrow.

Spo | February 16, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK

February 15, 2006

Actually maybe it’s kinda early…..

…….to be running around I’ve found – kinda strange for me as I’ve never had this overnight 60 year aging thing before – I can’t walk without getting out of breath after 5 minutes, can’t sit up without holding on to something, can’t cough sneeze or laugh without wincing in pain, I’m taking afternoon naps, eating half portions and stairs are a fecking nightmare – I’m fuzzy, full of pain killers and about as sharp as a bubble - and all cause they cut me open and dug around a little until they found a little piece of me that wasn’t pulling together with the rest of the cast of organs to get me through each day.

But I do have two weeks off work so it’s a fair deal.

I forgot I was supposed to be recovering yesterday – got up from the lazy boy and ambled over to take the stairs to bed – started attempting to run up, two at a time – as soon as I stretched those muscles in my right side I nearly ripped the staples right out of there – Feck me that stung a bit!

Really all I can do is sit around and wait to get a bit of energy back and for the muscle in my right side to repair itself – that isn’t usually part of the whole chop your appendix out deal but they couldn’t find the bugger at first - apparently it was up over on the right hiding behind my gall bladder or something – sneaky cheeky blighter - I’ve got a hell of a scar by the way – a good 12 to 15 inches – add that to the collection (all on my right side thinking about it).

But all in all – I’m knackered – pretty much all the time at the moment – so I’ll have another go at writing tomorrow when I’m not full of pain killers and feeling more 65 than 85.

Spo | February 15, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK

February 14, 2006

I canee even get up the stairs!….

Hello - I’ve just got back from Hospital and have 25 metal staples in the right side of my stomach - an appendix that refused to be found and had attempted to go AWOL - I’ve got out hospital early so I can watch Liverpool vs Arsenal on TV which is just about to kick off - I can’t move much - Oh and I may move to Holland, Hanh had a baby, Yuni rang up in tears and has been since uncontactable, I argued hugely with my boss, my flat is delayed and I’m fairly sure I’m still in love with someone else.

I’ll explain more 2mawa - don’t worry, I’ve got 2 weeks of not doing much else but recover so I’ll be doing plenty of writing....

Spo | February 14, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK | Personal

February 7, 2006

Gutted though I am…..

… that we lost 2-0 and had Reina sent off (but Robben deserves an Oscar - disgrace)

but THIS is class - Good lad

Spo | February 7, 2006 | Comments
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February 3, 2006

Compass of Doom!…

I’m watching Aliens at the mo – such a grade A kick ass cinematic adrenaline rush – just saw the scene towards the start – when Hudson gets Bishop to do the roulette thing with the hand outstretched and the knife – then Crowe puts Hudson’s hand out there under Bishop’s - he squeals “Hey man! Not me man!”– too late - the android, or “synthetic human as I like to be referred” starts off slowly and then gets up to warp speed – knife dancing left to right in the gaps between the fingers - Hudson screaming his ass off as the movements become a blur…

That scene has got to be responsible for an awful lot of compass injuries to late 80’s primary school / secondary kids after they tried to replicate the same thing and ended up stabbing their friends in the finger –

“Hey! let me do that cool Aliens knife trick! I’m really good! I promise I won’t stab you!”
“OK that sounds sensible – after all you said you were good and you also promised”

“Excellent!”
“Ow! Fucker! My turn!”

“Ow! Fucker!”

….of all the memorable moments from 18 rated films we watched while underage, that scene was up there with the toxic waste guy who exploded on the windshield in Robocop.

Spo | February 3, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK | Film / TV / Music

February 1, 2006

GRRRRR!!!! In the name of all that is Holy!!!!!….

… Please God!!! can you put scientists and orange juice carton openers the world over out of their misery and allow for someone to have that eureka moment we yearn for - when someone figures out a way to design a mechanism for the opening of Orange juice cartons that actually allows you to pour the God Damned juice without the feckin carton spontaneously combusting and dribbling gravity defying juice everywhere but the glass beneath it....

....At 7am this morning with a head full of rocks, four hours sleep and a severe lacking of will to live - I beseech you!

Spo | February 1, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK | Kaneheads Kompanion | Personal

February 1, 2006

Our Fowler Who Art In Heaven….

Robbie be thy name – God is back at Anfield tonight – the greatest transfer ever in my opinion – a free transfer that comes at a time when the stars of football are losing touch with those who sing their name more than ever before – when the mercenaries of modern football are raking it in – be they Russian oil billionaires, crafty Swedish managers, dodgy foreign imports, bung taking backroom staff or cash obsessed young dumb teenagers – Robbie has come home and when he scores his first goal of the second part of his Liverpool career, the roof may very well explode off the lid of the stadium.

God is lives at Anfield once again.

Robbie Fowler blew the world of English football apart when he broke onto the scene in the mid 90’s for Liverpool – scoring 5 goals vs Fulham in 1993, 120 goals in four seasons including the four minute and 33 second hatrick vs Arsenal – when injury took him out the limelight and the manager Houllier forced him out of Anfield it looked like the end for him – his heart just wasn’t in it anymore – playing for Leeds and then Man City, he never got back to his best – always injured, out of form, out of condition – out of character – this was not the Robbie we saw blowing away defences like a hurricane takes a bail of hay – 30 years old and already finished? He thought so and considered retiring - but then came the hatrick vs Scunthorpe, the goal vs UTD and the resurgence to form and fitness – Fowler was back and Liverpool were watching and waiting.

Rafeal Benetiz was criticised for not bringing Micheal Owen to Anfield – it made no sense financially – to buy back a player for 16million who had been brought through the academy and left for 8million only a season before – but everyone knew he would do the job for us – the job that our strikers have so blatantly failed to do this season – that of putting the ball in the back of the net – Morientes can’t settle and get his groove on and is now living on past glories – that Monaco season was a long time ago now and Real knew what they were doing when they sold him – Cisse hasn’t got it and looks to be the very worst type of mercenary – blessed with pace but no idea what to do with it, poor control, arrogance, selfish and not prepared to do the work to get the ball back when he frequently loses it – Crouch, tallest man in the premier, is the best of the bunch – but for all the skill on the field, workrate and set up play, he just doesn’t score enough.

Enter God – back where he needs to be to be himself – he loves Liverpool more than anyone at the club bar Stevie G and Carra – the fans told Benetiz to re-sign him after the manager had a chance meeting with him in a bar after the Champions league victory last year – he could see the affection still held for the man they named God due to the amazing goal scoring feats performed at Anfield during the 90’s.

Benetiz is fast writing himself into the history books at Anfield and becoming a firm favorite with the fans – this is his gift back to them for the appreciation and support – he knows Robbie Fowler lives and breathes Liverpool football club – it’s not money – it’s the game, the club, the fans and the goals - Robbie will want to give 100% every minute of every game for Benetiz - he just needed the second coming bestowed upon him - tonight he rises from footballers graveyard – a barren land of wasted talent – and I hope he writes a final glorious chapter in his career – setting in stone his legendary status – and restores that fairy tale faith in football that all who ever watched the game yearn to believe in.

Do I believe in God? After seeing that Hatrick vs Arsenal back in the season of 94-95 how could I not? I wish you all the luck in the world God - Liverpool legend forever more.

Spo | February 1, 2006 | Comments
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January 27, 2006

Sing me a Samsong…

Friday is Samsong Whisky Night – everyone is now back from Thailand and we all brought back bottles of one the Far Easts finest secrets – apart from the bars of Bangkok and beyond, it’s unavailable outside Thai borders as far as I know – 80 proof/40% and drunk literally by the bucket - mixed with amphetamine fuelled Red Bull, coke and ice - Samsong is a unique kind of drinking experience – you don’t end up wasted with out of control of actions and random unexplained thought – you seem to remember most of your evening – there’s no slurring of words or impairing of ability – and unbelievably, no hangover.

Yes, no hangover.

Well not in the hangover sense of head full of rocks, movement equates to pain, dehydrated legless elephant child, breath of death, memory like a badly edited videotape, all noise sounds like frying pans falling off a mountain, take me out in the garden and shoot me and use me for fertilizer coz that’s all I’m good for.

Of course the reason it hasn’t crossed borders must be what ever it is that is in Samsong that makes you feel so good - some of its questionable ingredients are rumored to be a small amount of speed and formaldehyde - Moonbats are made of this – 0 to spastic in 45 seconds – Jabber Jibber Jabber – RAA! RAA! Juice – toast the first glass and it’s good night ladies and gentleman – see you on the other side….


Our first night arriving in Ko Samui our friend, Bear, was so far gone into the world of Samsong that he clambered up into the bars elevated cage and started pole dancing with all the vixens – running round that pole in circles like something out of Benny Hill – then he fell off the ladder but felt no pain as he bounced back up and clambered back into his cage to carry on the parade – Samsong creates events such as these that paint how you see your friends forever – 80 years old we’ll all remember Bear getting in that god damned cage – police turned up the to close the bars around 2am and he had to be heckled down from there “come down Bear! come down from there! Get down Bear! No more! Police say NO!”

Things just get really hectic and everything seems to speed up for a while – yet you remain in control – able to fly the plane in and out of the caverns of your hundred mile an hour conversations like star pilots.

Honestly, at the time, it’s like Samsong is allowing us all to realise our full potential and operate at maximum efficiency – it’s how we were supposed to be – the elixir of life – nothing can harm you and everything you say carries weight and reason – nothing is beyond your grasp.

Of course another way of saying it is that you are well and truly fucked up beyond all recognition and a full on fucking nightmare for anyone remotely in the realms of sobriety to deal with.

We’ve got 8 bottles of that God Gamned Moonbat Idiot Juice to get through between five of us – get on the boat or stay on the docks but for all that is holy please don’t watch us sail.

Spo | January 27, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Daily Life - UK | Kaneheads Kompanion | Personal

January 26, 2006

Allergic to Money….

Got paid and promptly put out financial fires all over the shop – looking like head above water for another month - but wait! What’re those there gleaming shiny CD like things on the music shop shelves?

Arctic Monkeys (sound sought of like if Pete Doherty was talented),
The Editors (have not been able to get the track called Munich out of my head for weeks and they also sound like Interpol),
Clap your hands say yeah (great reviews, great name, not sure about it once I listened to it though…bit weirdy beardy.. maybe it’s a grower) and
Broken Social Scene (who are also nay bad, despite having a name sounding like a comic book written by thuggish Lesbians)


Can you justify 4 CD’s at once when you are saving money and are on a time limit to get your financial shit together?


Well if I hadn’t bought the CD’s then I’d be robbing myself of musical brilliance for more days than were necessary – I was going to buy them one day – buy them now damn it! - and then just don’t go out and get drunk with my friends this weekend.


Surely new brilliant CD’s are better than getting drunk with people I already know too much about?


Hmmmm…. Much harder to justify once I move into that flat in a few months I imagine….but….. OK. deal.


But I must not become a hermit and start doing this all the time – I justified coming home from a place that had 30cts CD’s to a place that had $30 CD’s with the argument that I missed my friends – now I’m buying $30 CD’s instead of hanging out with them.


Idiot!


Good CD’s though.

Spo | January 26, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK

January 23, 2006

Spo’s world….

I sat here yesterday, stared at this screen for what seemed like eternity and ended up writing some McGuffin about superstition – that my apartment building in Jakarta had no floor 13 due to Western ways of thinking and no floor 4 due to Asian ways of thinking (apparently 4 means death in Japanese or something) – and after waffling about the confusion this caused for pizza delivery, I linked all that in with how, even though I didn’t really believe in God and religion as far as a pub conversation went, I still wouldn’t be that happy living on floor 13 (pub conversation = you think about it for 5 seconds and give your answer and move on like I am doing now, except really, if you gave the subject more considered thought, you’d say something far more sensible like “I just haven’t seen anything to really swing me either way, but I’m still open to the possibility which incidentally is how I feel about life on Mars, the Americans never landing on the moon when they said they did, the extinction of Dinosaurs by a meteorite and the possibility that if indeed Christ existed, then Tom Cruise is more than likely the Anti-Christ”…

…..Anyways I wrote that I wouldn’t be happy living on floor 13 as in the end don’t tempt fate if you can avoid it and there’s plenty you don’t understand – and then finally I linked all this back to how earlier that day Liverpool had lost to Manchester UTD in the 90th minute due to me accidentally putting my trousers on before my socks which for me is bad luck for the rest of the day.

But that was yesterday and I lost it all in a moment of “ctrl c” “ctrl v” madness - after which I felt like it just wasn’t possible to remember such a ramble in quite the same way, so I thought “feck it!” and got drunk on red wine and started watching season 6 of the West Wing – I was then made to feel extraordinarily stupid due to realising that I actually need to watch this programme with English subtitles because it shoots by so quickly that if you don’t concentrate extraordinarily hard on what everyone is saying at all times, then you miss extraordinarily vital things and will have no idea what is going on – I used to think that I watched with subtitles to help Hanh, who’s native tounge is Vietnamese and always found that if someone had a funny accent or spoke with a dialect she didn’t quite fathom, the written word was there to fall back on – but now I realise I have become accustomed to watching with them after 3 years in Asia and seem to have forgotten my own language when spoken with pace (the wine may also have been a factor).

This is not surprising seeing as during this last week there have been instances of me forgetting my age (thought I was a year older) , how to tell time using clocks with hands (“the little hand nearly says 9 and the big hand says between 7 and 8 and that’s…..erm 9.45?… ” and any semblance of mathematic ability (175’000 is 17.5Metric Tons…. NO!.... and if you have a 1 in 76 million chance in the lottery with one ticket and then you buy another, you then have a 2 in 76 million chance which is the same as a 1 in 38 million chance….. NO!) - leading me to wonder if perhaps I didn’t get away with all that youthful drug taking after all.

SO today I decided that after watching Martin Sheen go through hell trying to negotiate the political mine-field of the middle eastern peace accord, it still seemed a far easier situation to fathom a solution than the one I am embroiled in at work: trying to persuade people that when talking about the global business of buying and selling tea, it doesn’t matter which office does the work and who claims the profit, as long as the business actually gets done – argument being that in the end surely all rivers run to the sea and this helps everyone in the grand scheme of life – and then people told me that politics is exactly that – be it running a country, running a company, or running the mafia - everyone has their own angle and it’s all a giant game of chess, choosing to move your pieces at the right time is the key and all that nonsense....

...and I thought ”well really it would be much better if everyone thought about the greater good at the end of the line and tried to get there a bit quicker without so much piffle paffle and bureaucracy, all these meetings, think-tank nonsense and business speak bollocks” – that it would be better if one person was allowed to make decisions on the spot and get things moving, rather than having to check with everyone else to make sure they were all happy with their cut of profit, their level of involvement, their level of chin stroking time etc etc – that there should be trust that one person knew what they were doing and would make sure everyone got what was coming to them equally at the end of it and people should just do what they were told and bloody well get on with it.

At this point I was told that I was sounding like a communist dictator – and after a little pondering, I agreed with them but argued that communist dictators might actually have a point as long as they didn’t get drunk on power, start killing people and steal everything for themselves.

I then went off on a ramble about the “World of Spo” and how there would be far more modes of transport and habitat that involved floating and flight such as jet packs, flying cars, hover cities and those skateboards from Back to the Future II – Human/Animal army experimentation to create the ultimate soldier - food that tastes like Original Pringles but has the health benefits of carrots - general knowledge tests with cinema tickets so you don’t sit with fools who play with mobiles and talk all the way through the god damned movie – segregated sin city areas where anything goes and if it all goes wrong then you knew what you were walking into and it’s your fault and we don’t have enough time for rehabilitation as we’ve got enough people in the world so you will have to go and work down the mines until you sort your rotten little head out – and general anesthetic for children on long haul flights (and leg room for everybody!) – conservation based on how cool animals were – cloning Al Pacino and using the Al Pacino clones for the majority of TV - far more places connected with Ski-lifts and escalators – being connected to drips at work so you get the right vitamins and water for the day - wage caps in football and a minimum home grown players rule – the gradual reduction of teenagers from society - Televised supreme common sense courts that can operate outside the law, use punishments as a form of entertainment and can bring a swift halt to the likes of Gary Glitter’s existence, Michael Jackson’s career and the music of Crazy Frog – and finally the use of paper scissors stone as a national way of solving petty disputes that once played could not be argued with under penalty of death.

At which point I was told that it was paragraphs containing such random thoughts as the above which suggested that if I were allowed to make decisions without consultation, then my company would surely cease to exist and furthermore that if I ever got into government office then the future of this world was possibly at stake – I protested that this was my off the cuff version of Spo’s World and obviously I’d take council – it was more of a pub conversational Spo’s World than a final blue print

But it was no good – although people agreed there were some interesting ideas – (for example, that of general anesthetic being used when traveling long distances as long as you weren’t involved with the control of direction and speed, that hoveboards were indeed overdue and that more Al Pacino was undeniably a good thing) – in the end, sin cities, drips at work, a lax attitude to the law and conservation as well as meddling with nature to create super soldiers was inevitably going to cause chaos and needed far more thought before I’d be getting their votes.

Fair enough – I realised the thought of absolute power had indeed gone to my head and I had threatened to create a world of laziness, chaos and debauchery – I needed to be stopped – whether I had weapons of mass destruction or not – and the people had spoken by not voting for me in the first place – which is why we live in a democracy - Full circle.

Spo | January 23, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK | Kaneheads Kompanion | Ojeni | Personal

January 19, 2006

The Limbo Zombies of January….

I don’t like this limbo – transitional limbo – maybe all Januarys feel like limbo – Boo January – boooooo....


Feeling a little lost - lacking direction and motivation is giving way to some seriously disturbing dreams – the sort I thought could only be caused by eating cheese before bed or having serious illnesses.


I scribbled down last nights events when I awoke gasping for breath and kicking off the covers – apparently myself and two others were trying to rescue some random girl – she was locked up in the centre of some sort of futuristic maze straight off a Kubrick set (cold, spacious, white, ceramic, spherical but quite pointy in parts) – I could see her over the top of this trap door we were trying to open – the key involved hopscotch over digital tiles – we were supposed to follow the red numbers that flashed up but they kept changing and moving around too fast – in the end we didn’t have time as B.A Barracus had turned into a zombie and was on the warpath – the man was mad as hell and there was no talking to him – as there often isn’t with zombies....


I think BA caught up with me after ripping the other two guys to pieces – I remember I was getting the hop-scotch thing wrong all the time and could hear the big angry zombified gold chain enthusiast roaring round the corner towards me – the girl was pleading with me to get it right – all I wanted to do was open the door and get away – to hell with the rescue – then I heard the roar, I tried to make a break for it, the Mutant Mohawked Mofo was almost on top of me - then I woke up.


Maybe I’d enlisted the help of the A-team to rescue the girl from Ming the Merciless and then things had gone horribly wrong – you really want BA Barracus on your side in these situations – especially when he’s a flesh eating deranged zombie.


I don’t even think Chuck Norris could stop a Zombie BA – in fact when it comes to zombies, who worse to turn into one than Mr.T?

Spo | January 19, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK | Kaneheads Kompanion | Personal

January 18, 2006

Don’t get too attached…..

The Family got a new Kitten over Christmas - named him “Bundi” after an Aussie Rum my brother got fond of during his travels - family seemed happy with this - thought it was cute - until I pointed out that most folk would think of Ted Bundy - infamous serial Killer - but by then the name had stuck.

Not the brightest cat in the world, the furry little fella seems mighty fond of crawling inside the inner workings of my lazy-boy chair when it’s extended in full on loafing lazy mode - if you don’t notice and pull the lever to re-adjust then it will work as some sort of feline guillotine and that Ted Bundy reference will hold a little too true.

This cat, charming as he is, surely can’t be long for this earth - at the moment, if he gets in there while the seat is kicked out - it’s kind of impossible to get up out of the thing without risk of kicking something off, sliding back the lever setting springs and metal in motion - 9 lives gone all at once - you just got to loaf there until the little fuzzy bastard comes out from underneath.....

Oh well - can’t be accused of being lazy now - I’m saving lives lying here....

Spo | January 18, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK

January 17, 2006

Balance….

I just saw the last ever episode of Six Feet Under and after the final sequence with the Sia track overplaying,I stared at the ceiling for 20 minutes contemplating the be all and end all of everything....


Heavy stuff indeed.....


.......I think I want my ashes blown up inside a giant firework over Malawi’s lake Nyasa.....

....I mean obviously I’d prefer a cannon like Hunter S.Thompson - but logistically and financially that aint gonna happen - dragging my family and freinds to Africa and then getting a cannon up to the lake as well - and being Africa the thing probably wouldn’t even fire - yeah.... it’s a big ask.... fire works are fine.... but Hunter S did indeed go out in style with that god damned cannon.....


Anyways..... I’m now going to watch Deuce Bigalow 2: European Gigolo to restore the balance in terms of taking life too seriously.

Spo | January 17, 2006 | Comments
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January 16, 2006

Ship for Sale….

The quiet weekends of January take hold after the events in Thailand – all about saving pennies and taking time outs as we start the new year – January, February, March – this side of the world they all suck a bit don’t they? It’s cold, wet and miserable outside and everyone is penniless and reflective.

Took the day off to take delivery of my shipped goods from Jakarta – all arrived around 11am and now one of the two real items of significance I own in this world – a lazy boy chair – sits proudly in my parents front room – everything else; Tri and Bach’s Buddha statue, pictures, DVD’s, books, few lamps, game consoles, clothes – can all sit in the boxes they were packed in until Spring – when the other item of significance that I own, my flat, will be completed.

So until then, the transitional phase continues – once moved in come May, a final line will be drawn under my far eastern tea tasting adventures and, I guess, the more independent life once led – looking around at what was delivered today – the things I have accumulated in life so far that well and truly belong to me – all I really own is a leather bound chair of comfort bought off the back of the unlikely winnings from Liverpool FC defying all the odds and becoming champions of Europe – everything else is largely superfluous – kind of how it has always been so that I could pitch up and leave where ever I ended up with little or no hassles what so ever - this job or another – in the end physically all I have is the chair to sit back and reflect.

Financially I paid off everything ever borrowed – now what I came away with is sown up in bricks and mortar – emotionally I left Africa and Asia without relationship commitments in the end – although reflection leads me to wonder on that, with regards to Hanh in Vietnam – yeah, that might be different if I could have a do-over – one day hit 88mph in the right place at the right time and go Back to the Future landing in Hoan Kiem Lake, centre of Hanoi and realise life has accidentally hit the rewind and I get another shot at the title.

In the end choices were made at the time and fate decreed the rest – hindsight’s a bitch as is often said – if I fall into the same flow of water later on, I’ll know which way to swim from previous experience. Hanh mailed me yesterday – her job with my company is going really well, she’s happy with life and about to go on maternity leave – baby comes in Feb - she talks of meeting again one day, to drink raise a toast and look back on it all - life indeed moves pretty fast.

Yuni mailed me too – she took her old job back running the bar – her daughter is flying through school with top marks – says she misses me and wants to come visit one day – would be good to show her the sights and sounds of UK - but I wonder if it’s good that we stay in touch – talking of seeing each other again all the time – can’t quite see it really – sure one day – but the phone calls, texts emails, promises of plans – they start to die out as we both quietly accept our 3 months together were exactly that.

Lucky that both women will remain in my life where ever I end up – good terms and good times making up most of the memories.

I think that my travels certainly changed me with each journey – I found old photo’s from Malawi when I was 22 the other day – how different I was before and after – then I found the pictures of the leaving party before Vietnam – those two years changed me more than anything else I’ve ever been through (ha! many men went to Nam and came back a different people and I’m no different!) – that was two tours of tea trading frontline duty my friends – learned a lot about life and what I wanted from it.

The round the world tour made me realise this spinning-spherical-mud-ball called Earth can be a very small place and that essentially the same things bind many - a love of family, friends and food and drink and a constant need to provide.

The last year in Jakarta? Well when I sat to think about it all it seemed like a bit of a stop gap – I don’t know how much I changed – a lot took place there – the relationship with Yuni, the car crash, the whisky over-indulgence, the earthquake, the late, late nights in MYbar and BATS, the tea auctions and dealing with a new city lingo and culture – but I was pretty much the same person from beginning to end.

Well actually, apart from figuring out how I felt about women from the past and present, I feel like I went backwards in a way – the vitality and drive from Vietnam dissipated into lackadaisical apathy – I got used to taking it easy with no responsibility or direction – wallowing in indulgence of women, drink and debauchery – and a shit load of DVD’s.

Compared to Hanoi, if Jakarta had any of the charm and the job any of the challenge, then things would have been different. When I left I was thinking I was coming back to the perfect set up and job, but that hasn’t quite turned out that way so far – time away paints memories in a golden light rather than reality – but I’m still settling I guess.

I suppose going backwards for a bit has shown me what not to do to get things back on track and heading towards the grand design of the job in the Malawi tea office in a few years – with that the plans of a beach bar with boats and hammocks on the side – I gotta remember what got me up every morning whilst in Hanoi and take that to the job in UK to get there.

Having said that, the above shows I’m still thinking I’m able to drop everything and leave when the opportunity presents itself – but wanting to get back into a relationship, owning your own place, the commitments that come with, all the things you fill it with and your name on all these various important legal documents and bills, pay cheque disappearing on arrival…. I’m feeling that this represents not so much dropping anchor as selling the god damned ship.

Spo | January 16, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Daily Life - UK | Personal

January 12, 2006

Unnecessary Brow Furrowing…..

Spo: 29 years old and falling off scooters, drinking samsong and getting into monkey business in Thailand

Cass: you’re too old for that
Never
yeah
maybe
wait a minute - you’re not 29
I am
you’re not, you’re 28 you fool
I’m 29

when were you born?
1977
yeah you’re 28
No..... 1980 to 1990 equals 10 - 1990 to 2000 is 20 - add the three from 77.... 2005 ..... 28 - ah ok - cool I’m 28!
you forgot how old you are - idiot!
damn it - I had a real contemplative afternoon as well - all wondering how much of the join the dots escalator existance of life I gotta get in order by June 2006 when 30 kicks in - lose a few stone, set up to move into the new place, finances in order and then meet some girl, get married and have clumsy babies - now I find out I’m not 30 till 2007 - califragalistic!
yeah, you’ve got much more time to grow up properly now
I know.....I’ve got a year and a half to be a proper grown up..... why couldn’t you have told me how old I was around midday instead? woulda saved me a lot of unnecessary brow furrowing

Idiot

Spo | January 12, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK | Kaneheads Kompanion | Personal

January 11, 2006

Scooter Mayhem….

From the moment the girl took the keys out of the ignition and told me to get off so she could wheel the scooter out into the road and point it in the right direction - we all kind of knew that I’d be meeting the tarmac at an awkward angle at high speed sooner or later - well moderate scooter speeds anyway – but wearing flip-flops, shades, shorts and T-shirt, any kind of combination of speed and tarmac is bad.

Sure, I was apprehensive about hiring a scooter – but it was the best way around the island and you can’t hide from possible injury all your life – even when it is kind of inevitable given my history.

Sun burned to hospitalization in Malawi, run down and dehydrated after Mozambique so hospitalized once I got to Kenya, virus ridden and hospitalized along with a car crash in Indonesia, a visit to the chiropractors after falling off the back of Gary’s motorcycle in Nam, a busted knee in Tanzania and countless pratfalls and general moonbattery here in UK – like killing my XR2 at the top of the hill, the chang inspired three day nose bleed sending me to Derriford hospital, picking up Beverley from the train with my hand stuck in a pint glass of water due to Kettle steam (subtle but dangerous), getting electrocuted on the fence running away from a startled horse, wasp nest disaster while tree climbing, falling in the river Test in front of the Mayfly pub garden, bouncing off the bonnet of Darcy’s car while pretending to be Teenwolf, head over handlebars aged seven and countless sprained ankles, dead legs, gashed elbows and black eyes.

I’ve been in the wars, to be sure.

But never broken a bone or a dislocated anything.

I keep going back for more – despite the odds always being against me more than most – if there’s six of us on scooters – it’s me that’s gonna fall off at some point – we all knew that - my ratio isn’t like that of other mortals - I’m starting in the red every time.

However, for three days with the wind in my hair, being my own man, I was free as a…… well no I was concentrating on not falling off actually – and when Jenks suggested a 13.5km there and back trek up and down dodgy jungle roads to the remote part of Ko Phan Ngan, I said ”Ok” but I knew that it was one mission I probably wouldn’t be coming back from – like the guy that was a bit short of the mark in boot camp and looked at Normandy Beach as artillery fire whistled towards him and thought “yeah – I’m probably gonna get it - first off the boat” – that’s me, the perennial non-cast member that makes up the extra man for the exploration party to new planets – and when I saw the steep verges and gravel strewn drops – the people in the passing mud covered taxi’s laughing and shaking their heads as they knew what we were driving towards – I thought

“well you’re coming off somewhere – it’s just a question of when”

Start with a defeatist attitude and you will be defeated preaches the self help empire – yeah, well with my track record it’s god damned common sense, dagnamnit – only fools are fearless, courage is having fear and doing it anyway - after the arduous trail was negotiated one way – beach reached and a couple of beers later with rumbling grey skies above us, we did the trail again – beat it both times with only minor spills (I swear I had dodgy brakes).

The three of us made it out the other side – the proverbial scooter journey to the dark side of the moon and back – I had conquered the scooter – it was now my bitch.

Then, at an innocent junction – confidence got the better of me – one feisty rev too much and an instinctive full on use of the brakes and acceleration at the same time – back wheel slides left – front wheel strives to kiss the sun – “look at me ma, top of the world!” – then your surfing the tarmac wave using your right arm and leg for purchase – ass smackdown and bounce right back up again as you slide through two lanes of traffic.

He’s up! – he’s ok! – nope – he’s got blood spewing from a hole in his arm and that knee cap’s taken a shaving – last nights samsong still allows for that feeling of being made of rubber though so you won’t feel that shit till later.We drove back through the rain storm – passed a clinic along the way – got back and patched me up – we all knew my scooter days were now over – it’s for the best – good while it lasted – wind in your hair, being your own man and all that - I knew I’d pay with more than money eventually – and I truly got one of the greatest bruises this world has ever seen out of it as well – the initial dinner plate sized black, blue and red jamboree – looked like the galaxy – we named it the ”Nebulous” and people asked to have their pictures taken with the miracle that was my monstrously bruised ass.

That’s me

- went to war –

- made it out the other side –

- died falling off the boat home, drunk -

Spo | January 11, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Daily Life - UK | Kaneheads Kompanion | Personal | Pictures

January 9, 2006

Same, Same But Different……

Aha moon biscuits – 2006 I believe – I’ve missed you fine folk – have muchos catching up to do – where have I been? I’ve been to Thailand you monkeys – and was busy with such things as falling off scooters, swinging in hammocks, going 0 to spastic in 45 seconds drinking super dooper samsong whisky and crawling around rock formations for 3 hours after drinking a mushroom shake while 20’000 people danced in the new year on Hat Rin beach below.


“Too many psychedelic dreadlocked techno wookies down there” I thought “I’ll stay up here for a while and try and get my shit together – stare at those lights until they make sense to me – stop my right hand from doing this electric circular motion that it’s been obsessed with for the last half hour – I want the control of my hand back God damn it!” then I crawled around the rocks a bit more – I was in a bad or good way depending on your point of view – or your state of mind - normal me was trying to steady the ship in the background – a little voice in the back of my mind repeating “get your shit together, get your shit together, get your shit together…” over and over and over…… eventually the repetition became a song in the style of “it’s a small world after all” and normal me was defeated by the mushroom vigour….


That’s when the memory tape ran out and the head just gave up recording – “this shit makes no sense!” said the memory editor in the morning – “I can’t work with this!” – all the material uslesss – “forget it” instructed the booming voice of the brain – and it was gone – most of New year remained apart from those three hours from around 2am onwards – it all disappears into the lights after the singing started “get your shit together after all, get your shit together after all……..” reports indicate that we were all in a bad way – but perhaps I may have taken the golden moonbat award – needing to be led down from the rocks by hand and observed just running around in circles for far longer than running around in circles is advisable.


“That big English fuckers lost it” a Kiwi allegedly exclaimed.

More tomorrow – featuring the biggest bruise the world has ever seen and Scooter mayhem - Happy new year you monkeys – it’s a relief and a surprise to be home in some ways and sad in others - but certainly glad that I actually undertook such a ridiculous mission - always to be remembered - well most of it anyway.....

Spo | January 9, 2006 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Daily Life - UK | Kaneheads Kompanion | Ojeni | Personal

December 24, 2005

Hey you Crazy Kids….

Hello my special monkey biscuits – may you’re Christmas be drink, food and family fuelled and your new years full of debauchery, good natured embarrassment and laughter – may you all fade into 2006 with hazy memories and smiles.

Should the next few days prove too hectic, I will be back on 9th of Jan – I may be able to let you know how things go in Thailand along the way.

Cheers for your well wishes and CD orders – matters are in hand - Keep it frosty people - fevered strokes to your chinny chins!

Spo | December 24, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK

December 20, 2005

Honey Trap..

She was a little wasted due to after work vino – it was proper parky cold out and she needed telephonic company for the train ride home…

“you just talk for a bit, the other people are staring at me”

“is that why you are whispering”

“yes”

“Ok – not a problem - I can easily get a gibber on”

“why are you whispering?”

“I don’t know – I’m alone in bed – I think whispering is just kind of like yawning – incorrigible amongst others”

A vast array of subjects were discussed over the next 40 mins or so - notably that there is some sort of legal druggy plant that is being eaten in stews and drunk in teas out in Thailand and to hilariously quote the lonely planet “turns travelers into wandering zombies clawing at their own hallucinations for up to three days - I was not allowed to touch any of that.

This led to what would happen if either of us were zombies and the other had a 28 days later kind of situation going on – bitten - going to turn soon - she would of shot me in the head! – I was shocked! - I’d of tied her up in the shed and hoped she sort herself out – she said she didn’t want to see me like that – but I wanted to be a zombie, I’d ride the wave, see out the storm – I’d be like Ed in Shaun of the Dead – I’d have basic recognition of those in my life I really cared about and I wouldn’t bite them – I was sure of that:

“DO NOT stove my head in at the first sign of being bitten! – only if I am really well and truly a right nasty biter and there is no alternative – otherwise put me in the shed on a chain – I’ll be a different zombie I promise - you would just have to feed me people you don’t like on a regular basis – even zombies won’t bite the hand that feeds them”

“I think zombies pretty much bite anything – sorry I don’t trust zombies”

“I won’t be a complete zombie – I’ll still be me – a little”

“Ok but first sign that you are thinking about it, a peck, a nibble, even a sniff – and you are history buster”

And then there was the hostage rescue dilemma – somewhere like Colombia or the Middles East - she said she’d raise cash for the ransom…

“start a business, get clever minds together and find a niche market”

“I don’t think there’ll be time for that - they’ll want a quick return - that’s the whole idea - quick cash”

“try not to annoy them too much - play for time”

“this is outrageous! You’re starting a business and getting support and sales on the back of my hostage situation! It’s all a bit Gordon Gecko if you ask me!.....if it was you I would get down there to the gates and offer an exchange, a straight swap – such a gesture will curry favour with the people – show the terrorists have compassion – and if they didn’t go for it I’d just volunteer and get in there with you – so you wouldn’t be alone”

“that’s sweet but we’d end up killing each other rather than the terrorists doing it”

“I might be a bit Oh now look what you’ve gotten us into, I told you to wear a burkkha and stay off the wine with you at first, but I’d befriend the hostage takers, formulate a plan and we’d escape eventually”

“this is exactly what I’m talking about – we aren’t escaping – you’ll fuck it up for both of us – we should just pace it out, keep our heads down and let the authorities take care of it”

“Ah come on! You can’t tell me you’ve never thought about escaping a hostage situation!”

“these are things that you think about – not other people – just you”

“look we’ll get friendly with one of the guards – he’ll show his hand – we’ll play on his good side and when he’s not looking - we’ll strike - steal his guns and make a run for it”

“No – they’ll all be dedicated to the cause – they won’t fall for idol chatter”

“we may have to use you as a honey trap….”

“No honey trap!…. Look the people on the train are looking at me”

“maybe you should whisper again”

I kept her company all the way to the door…

Spo | December 20, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK | Personal

December 19, 2005

Hey Nature - WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!?!?!?!

I’ve been away three years and now back in the house that raised me - until my place is finished next spring I am unashamedly taking advantage of the home comforts - the cooking, cleaning, washing, ironing, cups of tea and easy street living - I do my bit, pay my way and will do what ever task is asked - they get their son on call for a while - everyone’s happy - sure, I can’t outstay the welcome and it doesn’t look too good to prospective female companions to still be living with your parents - but it isn’t for long and for the here and now I’m a lucky boy.

So when I was asked to go up in the loft sort a bunch of stuff out and find a cat basket I was happy to help - I got the stairs out, lifted the roofing, pulled myself up and felt around for the light switch - then as the bulb flickered on and my eyes surveyed the area - just like corporal Hicks from Aliens as he uses his torch to peer into the roofing - I saw this FUCKING HUGE ALIEN EGG LOOKING FUCKING THING IN THE GOD DAMNED FUCKING CORNER!

I freaked “what the fuck is that?!? I have no concept of what the fuck that is - how could no one know this was fucking here? what the fuck lives in that? is it going to pulsate explode and evil little slimy creatures are going to take over the fucking house? what the fuck is that?”

It’s a big motherfucking wasp nest, that’s what that is.

I’m a good boy and I don’t curse in front of my mother - but certain circumstances demand and command the use of swear words and this was one of them:

There is a fucking wasp nest the size of a small fucking child in our fucking loft for fucks sake!
Yes that’s two years old now - stop swearing!
Two fucking years old! this has been here for two fucking years! nobody fucking told me! have you seen the fucking size of this fucking thing! it’s fucking massive! my room is fucking underneath that! you could fucking get inside that! fuck! fuck it’s a big wasp nest! are they fucking dead!? are you sure?! there isn’t anything in that fucking thing? Christ! it looks alive! Fuck!
STOP SWEARING!
This demands fucking swearing! that’s a fucking big wasp nest!
The council was going to remove it one summer but in the end it was better to just let them die - they don’t come back
How do you know that? what sense does it make to spend all summer building a wasp nest - a fucking big wasp nest I might add - and then all die out and never fucking return?
That’s nature for you - and stop swearing so much
Nature is Fucked up!

(when I have a situation where I think I can justifiably swear like a trooper in front of my mother then I really do squeeze the maximum out of it - there’s a little of Bart Simpson in all of us I feel)

Spo | December 19, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK | Kaneheads Kompanion | News | Ojeni | Personal | Pictures

December 19, 2005

Awestruck by Ape….

I truly love the cinema and the escapism it brings - if someone wants to put all that effort into telling me a story then I’m quite happy to sit quietly and let them do their best to enthral - acting, direction, lighting, sound, location and a fine script set to a pace - pull it all together and I’m sold - and I’ll sit through all kinds of tales - I’ll usually give anything a chance - just all I ask is to take me to another place and try to sell it like it’s true.

Suspension of disbelief is the key.

For example, I’ll tap into the giant lizard running amok in Godzilla, but when they pull a move like trying to make us believe the helicopters are chasing this huge creature and they turn a corner of city street and lose the big green fucker - that’s a throw things at the screen and call bullshit moment - I’ve suspended reality enough already - don’t push it.

This is why I didn’t get swept up in the hype and really fall over myself to rush out and see King Kong - it just seemed like it wasn’t something they could ask today’s audience to buy into - that they find a mysterious island, woman falls in love with giant ape and they end up on top the Empire State Building as Bi-planes buzz around - 1930’s, when you have an audience that hasn’t seen the things today’s folk of seen, maybe - but these days we’ve been everywhere with cinema - we are far more used to unconsciously reading films and their patterns of storytelling - we’ll go with any idea - but they’ve gotta make a decent attempt to sell it like it’s true.

Now when cinema is about the spectacle - the blockbuster - the crowd pleaser - the event movie - they are trying to make mass market fast food appeal to all product - the more denominations it can appeal to the better - the less complicated the better - less controversial etc etc - you can end up with some serious clagshite in a bag like Independence Day or Pearl Harbour - King Kong just seemed like it was all set up to go down that path - big dumb cheesy popcorn fodder - Godzilla all over again (I never actually paid to see that and even when it ended up on TV I could only give it 20mins at best)

The Greatest Spectacle cinema I’ve seen - the films that contain moments of jaw dropping awe - when you are transfixed and totally wrapped up in the world they are selling you - I’m talking the scenes like the T-Rex attacking the cars in Jurassic Park, Indiana Jones running for his life at the beginning of Raiders, the X-wing assault on the death star in Star Wars and even Titanic - script and wafer thin story aside, the actual sinking of the ship still remains one of the most amazing things I’ve seen on a cinema screen - it’s gone beyond plain story telling in some ways - it’s bringing everything together, grabbing your soul and pulling you into the screen, adrenaline pumping, eyes wide and open mouthed - can you believe this shit? - and you can - that’s how good it is - you can actually believe.

And I’m very happy to say that after coming back from King Kong just now - I can very easily believe in a mysterious island, angry dinosaurs, giant insects, a ragtag bunch of filmmakers and shipmates surviving (well some of them) some of the most extraordinary tests imagination can conjure and finally the unspoken love between a woman and a giant Ape the size of a four storey building.

It was absolutely fucking awesome.

Spo | December 19, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK | Film / TV / Music

December 17, 2005

Sinking Doofus ….

I dunno – a lot of the good things that have come my way were due to being plucked out of a destructive situation and sent to Africa for six months to allow me to figure out what was important in life – back in 2000 - and now I’m back in the Uk typing away - charged up and thinking that if I blew my nose right now I could sell the contents for about $50 – which is not remotely any where near the path I should be taking at this point in time…. sure I feel kinda fuzzy and free right now – but fucked up as I am, I know deep down it’s not the best direction on a regular basis... I mean, after that night in London the other week, when Gali and I stayed until the wee hours up in both senses of the word – I thought that was a whole “moderation every once in a while” thing – but then this last week, when random things just gave up the smell or sensation of charles chang – I’m sensing and tapping into it once again – now after this night - after I type this here – after which it was all on display and there for the taking - and I took it gladly – in fact pushing for more like a fiend – even now fucked up as I am – I gotta know that isn't right…. Gotta get a grip on this – as good as it is…..or rather as good as it feels..... or it'll all go ski-whiff with no return...

Spo | December 17, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK | Personal

December 15, 2005

Round the corner…

That’s kind of what everything feels like at the moment - I don’t have enough time in the day yet everything I’m waiting for is round the corner - there’s time to wait towards the next steps of being a healthy monkey again, moving in to the place, girl, winning the world cup etc - just wait - it’s in motion - they’ll come in time - yet I don’t seem to have any of that on a daily basis - time…

I’m losing touch with too many people these days - make the time I guess - but up at 6am and a day winding down come 8pm - that next two or three hours you wanna loaf a bit, blog a little, drink a tipple, get some food cooking, read a touch, burn that tune, watch that film, make that call, write that mail, meet that girl, sort that bill, fill in that form, place a bet, try to get set up to develop all those god damn photo’s, say hi to your folks, jump in the shower, quick cuppa, piece of toast, get your shit together for the next day and close your eyes and dream of Kylie in the cake factory....

Life doesn’t really move that fast - it just doesn’t give you the time somedays.

That’s what Thailand on the 27th will be about I think - taking the time out life offers you every once in a while - although right this minute I’d still like to take the money for the ticket back rather than actually go - especially when nothing was planned further than the arrival date - ”lackadaisical loafers rolling up in Bangkok and expecting shit to just sort itself out as we went along” was the initial plan - but after a bit of investigation we realised a more organised approach was required - internal flights were all selling out pretty quick and hotels, buses and ferries were preaching the limited vacancies sermon - some of it legit, some of it bullshit, to be sure - but flying halfway round the world for such a short time, we needed a better plan than just turning up - now all is in hand and things are looking up - (though it has to be said that if a woman was involved in this planning it would of been looking up a hell of a lot sooner)

I’d still take the money over the ticket right now - too many sensible things it would be better spent on - but then again, right now I don’t know what a full moon style New Years beach party with 20’000 other people on the sandy shores of Koh Phangan feels like - after the event, chances are I won’t be asking for my money back from what I’ve heard.

If all goes califragalistically it will probably all go too quickly as well - but I’ll be sure to savour it while it burns - I’ll do my level best to stay awake as long as possible, take some shots to trance you and come back with some tales of mis-adventure to humour you.

However, if it all goes wrong and I end up broken, lost and penniless and then somehow end up in some Butt-clenching pit of roach infested hell Thai Jail looking at eternity in suffering - then be assured I didn’t do it - it wasn’t me - it was all a set up and break me out A-team style as soon as possible - there’s too much round the corner I’ve not had time to not have time for.

Spo | December 15, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Personal

December 13, 2005

I was totally Sebastian this evening….

Look you know me pretty well by now and if i crashed and burned I’d hold my hands up, but God Damn it, I took out two Russian women tonight and I gotta say I played a great game – if there were god damn feckin judges they’d all be showing 9 or 10 cards – those two girls will be leaving this cold assed expensive socialist nightmare of a country with damn fine impressions of English gents I tell you – I held open doors, I bought good wine, I got champagne, I bought munchy nibble nacho type things, I made them laugh and kept them entertained god damn it – I talked like Hugh Grant all evening – they feckin loved it! – I mean even when there is nothing realistically to play for it still makes sense to have a practice match and see how you do.

Sure, one of the girls Irina is married to Ruslan who is a client, a friend and also the size of Godzilla’s dad, but her friend, mischkeybinksychev, or what ever it was – stunning! – completely in love with me! – if she wasn’t on a plane to Moscow tomorrow morning we’d be god damn married with three kids and a farm in Devon I tell you!

Devon I tell you!

Farm!

Russian women – god damn it – something in the mix there – sort of straight and narrow yet bendy – cold yet comfy – reserved yet liberated - an accent that demands you pay attention yet they hang on every word – they hit a drinking plateau that allows them to sort of maintain the same level for a considerable amount of time before straying into useless – did I mention the accent? – palm of my hand I tell you! Palm of my hand!

Great Game! Great Game!

Swooning on the platform as my train pulled out I tell you!

Swooning!

Fool for leaving you may say - but in the end - ever the Gent....

Spo | December 13, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK

December 12, 2005

So Let Go….

Old photo's - we were all 18 again - I realised they were actually 10 years ago - 10 years - that we all go way back even further as well - I was a cherub damn it - angelic I tell you - angelic! - with a drug fuelled eye at times I admit - but Jesus Christus I looked young - we were all there - up the old railway pub - during the days of Friday and Saturday nights club, drink and drug discovery....

......wrapped up in live for the weekend existence and petty adolescent soap opera - all of it meant the world at the time - some of us have now fallen by the wayside far as the group goes, but I at least still know them all as friends where ever they may be - all of us growing up together - those photo's so priceless...

in a few shots ....something in the eyes between her and I ..... such classic times.... then I walked home and Frou Frou's "Let Go" comes on I-pod random.......and I get a text message from her.... and it's all like....

Spo | December 12, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK | Personal

December 9, 2005

Eh? Shooooo’s?

A girl was telling me today how good shoes on a man are important in deciding what kind of guy he is - she looks at the shoes when weighing up her options - smart, casual, scruffy bleh bleh bleh.... she says she can tell a lot about a man by his shoes.


I call bullshit.


Maybe dress sense etc gives a hint to character but shoes alone? we wear shoes to go on feet and put the ones on that suit the occaision - usually from a choice of three - loafing slippers, trainers, shiny shoes that have or have not been shined recently.


Maybe a bit of wellington, hoofing, climber, runner type shoe gets in on the act if you go special.

Practical.


She says that shoes break men into many different catergories - I say there are two:

- Men who know women look at shoes so wear smart ones to try and get laid.

- Men who decide they can’t be arsed trying to figure out why women would sleep with a man becasue of what he wears on his feet and wear any old pair they found lying around.

Spo | December 9, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Ojeni

December 8, 2005

Blood in the water….

My boss is a difficult man to work for – you gotta kinda get into a better the devil you know kind of place with him – the initially frightening aspects of his character become eccentricities after a while – like the way he hangs upside down from his ankles from the door frame to sort his bad back out (I shit thee not).


He has his many detractors – but today he pulled off one of the greatest trades I’ve ever seen – he noted a companies buying had stepped up from the way they were chasing for shipping info, he knew there’d been an ownership buy out meaning purchasing patterns may of changed, he had a 40ft container coming into port containing teas we really needed to get shot of and the timing was perfect – 4.50pm just before the teas landed we could divert for delivery elsewhere if needed – boom goes the dynamite - he called and caught them at the right time – buyer bought without even seeing the samples – an hour later the costs would have been much higher after landing fees etc – basically this was a cream covered chef hat wearing Kylie of a sweet trade – it all came together – the yin, the yang, the magpies, the red skies, the dice playing snake eyes – when he finished the call how he didn’t crack a smile I’ll never know – keep your poker voice while the game is in play, but when it’s all done you can let it out surely?!


I love it when a plan comes together – but it’s even better when that plan comes together out of nothing in about five minutes and suddenly you’ve sold 20Metric tons without blinking.


I remember like gospel my trades that set me rushing – the first fibre deal in Malawi, the 5 x 40ft merry go round in Vietnam, the Kenya D2 recipe, the Malay India discovery and boosting the Dempo BP2’s to Pakistan – but I bedone-seen about everytheen if I ever saw a better trade than the one that freaky bastard pulled off today.

Spo | December 8, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK | Personal

December 7, 2005

Get outta bed….

Top Ten waking up in the morning and facing the day tunes:

1. Paul Simon – Me and Julio
2. Badly Drawn Boy - Once around the Block
3. Feist – Mushaboom
4. The Coral – In the Morning
5. Gorillaz - Feel Good Inc
6. Finlay Quaye – Sunday Shining
7. Kings of Convenience - I’d rather dance with you
8. Us3 - Cantaloop
9. Mr. Scruff - Get a move on
10. Billy Ocean – Get outta my dreams get into my car

Spo | December 7, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK | Film / TV / Music | Kaneheads Kompanion

December 7, 2005

Vaccination against inspiration?

I got back and read through the sunday times - always a good few hours worth of quality reading - one story stood out in particular - that of the possibility of vaccinations against of mind bending substances - that you could be injecting, snorting or smoking as much as you like - but the chemicals carrying their wily ways to infiltrate your brainwaves will be picked off like X-wings attacking the Death Star with its shields up - the high never gets to kick in - the gas to the ride is killed before it can begin.

Now if we are talking about those that go over the edge - into the land of alcoholism and addiction - the destruction that can come from an over indulgence and in turn, a dedication to ruin - then yes, cracking idea - but the aspect of parents being able to vaccinate children against the effects of illegal substances? - this for me opens a huge kettle of fish - takes them out and puts them inside a can of worms - worms which are removed and then placed in the aforementioned kettle...... yeah, I never got those clichéd sayings either.... kettle of fish? what the fuck? it’s a “different kettle of fish”? why? what are fish doing in a fecking....

anyways…

Sure, this is not an easy subject to have a politically correct opinion of - that mind bending substances being banned to the point of extinction is a bad thing - that you don’t even give them a sporting chance - in the eyes of sense and sensibility and the law in general - to anyone who has played and lost or knows and loved anyone that has - even thinking about what you would tell your own children - it’s a great idea - take the danger away before it even bears its fangs - think of the amount of crime caused by drug related obsession - governments will be....

But while this is indeed pub logic - the place I have just returned from in fact - I’m just asking you to consider the aspect that people have their own battles to fight in life - and the world of mind altering substances is one of them - gambling in a way - what do you win? - well you win some pretty god damn good nights out - experiences never to be mirrored - feelings impossible via conventional living - but sure, you gotta know when to fold or cash your chips - and that doesn’t apply to the average bear - but for some it does.... what do you lose? well very possibly everything - but with vaccination at birth you are denying those warriors to even step to the field of play.

What I’m trying to say is that when you look across the history of culture you see many works and artists inspired by recreational drugs and addictions - Martin Scorsese was off his face for most of the 70’s and early 80’s, Absinthe and Hemmingway, The Beatles in their Yellow Submarine, Hunter S Thompson in general, Jimmy Fucking Hendrix.....

Paul McCartney on drugs - Sgt Pepper

Paul McCartney off drugs - The Frog Song

You’d think that would be the other way round

God Damn it.

Should control over the people start before they even have a chance to discover what their demons might be? never mind actually fight them? Drugs don’t equal creativity - they don’t create on their own - but they surely do inspire and open doors to it every once in a while....

Doesn’t being allowed to walk the line and choose your battles - dip your toe in the lava lake of Hades - the eye opening and in turn, possibly soul sucking, world of enlightenment through the means of monkey business - this makes folk who they are in a way - dark side of the moon and come back again.... laws and warnings are there to dissuade you from the dark side.... but sometimes people want to taste the forbidden and find out why they aren’t allowed to go where they are told not to..... understand for ourselves rather than take it on the word of those trying to control us.

Wet Paint. Don’t touch.

Really?

You’ll learn.

At least you’ve got the chance to learn anyway…

It’s all a bit Orwellian if you ask me...

Spo | December 7, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Kaneheads Kompanion | News | Ojeni | Personal

December 4, 2005

Scruffy back from big smoke

Greetings and salutations people - hope all is grand in your worlds - and that public transport hasn’t robbed you of 5 hours of life as it has mine - right at the death - next train they said - 45 mins on that damn Basingstoke platform waiting for a make believe train in the freezing cold - next stop Narnia.

I return to the village running on empty - a weekend in the big smoke sends me back scruffy with baseball cap hair and three day socks - wallet a bit lighter - eyes a bit heavier - but soul certainly more enriched - I love London and the friends I’ve got dotted around the place.

I took Cassie out for fine Italian dining in Wimbledon on Friday - met up with the cool and califragilistic NML for Fulham Lunching and loafing during the afternoon of Saturday (thanks for a quality time princess!) and then called in on friends in Kingston and Clapham as the night went on - Sunday rocked around and after finally getting to see Kiss Kiss Bang Bang (loved it), I took my scruffy self back via a fecked up south west train network.

Maybe if I lived there all the time and dealt with the day in day out grind, I wouldn’t feel the same - friends of mine that have stayed a while and moved on have all spoken of different aspects, but one binding factor is that it can be quite a lonely place - a mix of so many from such a vast array of countries - it’s not unusual to be an outsider - it’s a city of outsiders in a way - which means that everyone has a kind of head down collar up attitude - my time in Hanoi or Jakarta for example - you are in the minority - the places frequented by the expats were limited to a collection you could count off on one hand more or less - you pitch up there’s a tale to tell as to how you got there - other folk have similar - you mix and blend after a while - cheers style - faces always the same in a city of millions - However, London can be a place were instead of bonding with your fellow man due to your fellow feelings of fish out of waterdom, it’s more a case to feel it’s the norm to be lost amongst the masses.

London - you gotta be there a long while to be local - find your way - know that overground like you know the underground - slowly you build up a knowledge like the taxi drivers - who have to take some sort of exam (the Knowledge) before they can get busy picking up passengers - such is the old century hap-hazard nature of design to the cities nooks and crannies - it’s not all neatly arranged with sensible design such as those grid referenced layouts you find in the major cities of North America - it’s all twisted around and overlapping, chopped and cut, going in one way and then filtering off in another - but the unpredictability is part of the charm I think.

Yet still it all seems pretty easy to get about for a city the size it is - as much of a mess that it looks from Google Earth it does have the basics running the show underneath - something seriously lacking in the big cities of Asia (witness that whole pollution slick making its way through the waterways of China at the mo) - it’s expensive - it’s crowded and prone to delay - but ultimately considering a place with that many people and so much going on - it works.

That’s kinda what I love about London the most - you can get pretty much anything you want out the place - and it’s hugely cosmopolitan - the mix of lingo’s, class and cultures cluttering just one tube carriage - going from Brick lane to Regent Street - Soho to Kingston - Brixton to Kensington - all the same city yet all very different places.

So far I only really know certain areas like the back of my hand - maybe 10% of what the city has to offer at most - I’ll always be discovering with every visit it seems - I know a few places very well on this earth - so much so that I have got them beat - want me to show you around Hanoi and I could point you in the right direction (with the aid of a taxi driver and a few bucks - I’m not the best driver and my sense of direction sucks) - but London I’m always going to be wearing L plates - and happy to do so.

(I do not have a ginger beard - it’s a feckin auburn tinge!)

Spo | December 4, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK

December 1, 2005

Haircut! Haircut! Haircut!….

I got me head-grass hacked today (haricut)

the doll was a right looker (the woman who performed the haircut was quite attractive)

den, when de lass woz done tinkering wid de blades, I had a riverdance at the picasso (once she had finished cutting my hair I looked in the mirror)

and stone the bleedin crows if me god damn barnet didn’t look like sodding roadkill !!!!! (I was certainly taken aback when I realised that my “curse in the name of the lord to extenuate my feelings” hairs appearance was not satisfactory and in fact resembled a dead animal whose death was caused by an interface with a vehicle moving at high speeds upon a highway)

I was feckin gutted! (I was most displeased – so much so it felt as though someone had removed my vital organs)

Spo | December 1, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK | Kaneheads Kompanion | Ojeni | Personal

November 30, 2005

Pappa Spo

For ten minutes around 530am Spo was a daddy today – for ten minutes I was debating the who, what, why, where of the whole situation and trying to get my head around the tangled mess of marriage across the time zones and borders and being a father far sooner than I ever expected to be…


Then I re-read Yuni’s text msg and realized that through a combination of unorthodox use of the English Language and being very bloody tired I’d misinterpreted and in fact she wasn’t pregnant after all.


Crikey moses – life would of got very bloody complicated all of a sudden if that ten minutes had turned out to be the rest of reality….

Spo | November 30, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Daily Life - UK | Personal

November 28, 2005

Girls really are preeeddddyyyy…..

I don't know whether any of you read Girls Are Pretty on a regular daily basis - but today it was fucking outstanding and it is always worth 5 mins of your surf time if it's not already a habit. Truly fuckass funny day brightening stuff every morning.

Spo | November 28, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Kaneheads Kompanion | Videos & Links

November 27, 2005

Mooki Spoo Laffed

It’s been a fairly eventful few days and I do feel like writing – although it is proper park ji sung at the moment – a famous footballer rhyming slang for “parky” – which is UK slang for “more than a bit cold” – which the UK is doing a very good job of being at the moment – but it’s feckin winter so what do folk expect exactly? Bunnies, rainbows and sweet summer morns?

I am back in the village again after my recent London and all day drinking experiences – Thursdays dinner was a stratospherically expensive expenses bashing meal for five people and was a massive success – excellent food, very cool restaurant, everyone got along famously and I might get some huge business out of it one day. Later on I reviewed what I said over the course of the meal and judged that only 30% of it sounded stupid – so that’s pretty good for me – you might think that 30% sounds like a lot – but when you consider that means 70% of what I said made me look like I knew what I was talking about, then I’m sure you’ll see the positives.

I was then charged with taking out my Canadian bosses son to show him the night sites of London – to be fair the lad had done the same for me whilst in Toronto and I still hold that cities charms in high regard as a result - we ended up at a private party courtesy of my good friend Gali – I was supposed to make sure my bosses son got into no trouble what so ever and was back in the hotel by 1am – I was fairly successful in this - it would’ve been kind of career threatening to have done otherwise.

Well he wasn’t that drunk – he did get back to the hotel eventually – and he didn’t get into any arguments with the boy friends of the women he was trying to chat up - but it was close.

The shindig was held at a fairly old skool kind of basement club called the Jam Bar, I met a 36 year old woman from Vancouver who looked like Meg Ryan and she has my number if she ever leaves the under-appreciative chap she lives with – I know she’s 36 because she told me she had been living here for 14 years and the easiest math for me to do was pronounce that means she would have been living here since she was 16 – I headed for the nearest ten and subtracted you see – if that makes sense – I mean you know, 29 minus 14 – that would take me time to think about – I’d look stupid – so I went for 30 – easier to do.

But of course for a woman to hear that I had guessed she was 29 rather than 30 – there’s a world of difference there – normally you don’t get involved with women and age – but her statement was an invite onto the subject – and sure, to hear I thought she was 30 when she was actually 36 – that’s a good thing to hear – but 29 or 28 would have been soooooo much better.

So much better to the point that if I had been better at math she would of called by now and we’d be married with twins on the way and looking to buy a farm in Devon.

After the club Gali and I hoovered a great deal of Colombian marching powder at the Farringdon Travel lodge and talked codshit for about 4 hours. That’s the first instance I’ve done that in a very long time – but as Obi Wan should of said – moderation is the key young Skywalker – just don’t make it a habit.

The next morning we headed back to the village – very difficult as the trains from Waterloo were absolutely fecked beyond belief – no one seemed to know when, where or if ever they would be running in our general direction again. Once home after a 1 hour journey had turned into 3, we decided to go our separate ways to sort ourselves out and then meet again for afternoon drinks – which turned into the rest of the day – which ended with me meeting a fine feisty Scots girl who once headbutted me (it was all a big misunderstanding about 5 years ago and apart from that we always got on really well – even if, at the end of the day, she is mental).

She now works as a stripper at Spearmint Rhino’s in Bournemouth. To say that I spent the whole conversation looking like a child at Christmas is quite an understatement.

Spo | November 27, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK

November 24, 2005

Just in time….

I got some big games ahead of me – I gotta go up to London and take a bunch of tea folk out to a classy Indian joint in Piccadilly called the Mint Leaf – Then I gotta meet up with Gali and get battered in innumerable locations across the big smoke until the early hours courtesy of his expense account – then, after staying in some overpriced dump yourself and die for a bit hovel, I am to awake, make my way home, get myself respectable and go see the lovely Beverley – after which it should be back up to big smoke and more innumerable rottenness over a two day period of gambling and karaoke.

This is the kind of thing I cannot do anymore once I move into a place with a mortgage and responsibilities.

So I’m doing it now before its too late.

Plus that whole going to Thailand for new year idea looks like a truly ridiculous thing to have agreed to now I’m in the cold hard light of day in the UK – a light shining upon the need for cash and saving and general sense and sensibility.

Lucky I already bought the ticket before any of that kicked in.

Spo | November 24, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK | Personal

November 21, 2005

Mushaboom

GRRRRR…… Wanted the world to leave me alone today – it was all simply too much trouble – waking on a minus temperature Monday – you breathe and your air sits there in front of you for a good 10 seconds – I started smoking again too – it’s the trains fault – late trains – they used to just give you a general idea – 5-10mins – now they have electronic boards to inform you the exact minute of arrival – the 8:13 will arrive at 8:15 exactly – but when they notice everyone looking in the opposite direction they sneak it up a bit – 8:17, 8:21 8:29 – after which the train announcer should really say “fuck it, late is late – once you are passed your intended arrival time you are late in the eyes of all – 5 minutes - 10 minutes – it’s all the same - you really only need to be concerned about getting to the point of no return – the point at which there is simply no reason to turn up anymore…. curse us train masters all you want – you’ll all be here tomorrow…”

I wish there was graffiti at the train station again – something to read in the event of it being too cold to have your hands out your pockets to read the sports page – and you’ve forgotten your I-pod – I walk the long walk back home each day – it seems so much further when you don’t have music – I walk pretty fast – I worry that I march and end up looking like those Olympic walkers – I wonder about those folk - you win gold but surely feel a little shamed – it’s the Olympics I know – but when you take the gold back home – you think there are people lining the streets when you return? A parade? A pub celebration even? you think kids boast about their parents winning the walking 15000metres? when folk ask them if they mean the marathon and the kids look a little embarrassed and say “no, the one where you aren’t allowed to actually run and they wiggle their butt around like a white man getting down to James Brown”.

When I left Jakarta the girl that never really said much at the gym finally said something - she’ll miss seeing me dancing on the cross trainer – I asked what on earth she was talking about - so she did an impression – I never realised that I’d been running to the music in such a style that made me look like a really busy Ian Brown from the Stone Roses – shuffling funky like a doped up monkey then suddenly flying when Paul Van Dyk kicked in…

I’m back in UK and noticeably starting to become a chunky butler again – I used to go to the gym three times a week and go on the bike a bit – then I met Yuni and took up drinking and staying out all night with a vengeance - now I’m back and have been indulging in many of the things that have to be paid for not only with money, but also exercise afterwards – if vodka and whisky were cheaper I wouldn’t be drinking beer again…. I would join up to the one in town on the way home but it’ll be Christmas soon – then off to Thailand – then they start handing out the January free memberships….I could be the size of the moon by then though....

What I need is a virus and tomato soup for three weeks.

Anna and I met up and saw the new place under construction – the chirpy sales person – or as Anna referred to him “a computer geek you’d trust your kids with” – offered us the choices of fixtures and fittings – it quickly dawned on everyone that I would have my apartment looking like a Buck Rogers set and a woman’s guidance was needed – she took control – I’m only allowed shiny door handles from my original selections – the whole ”magic lights that turn on and off on timers and suit the mood of choice” are out as well – every argument I put forward was met with the reasoning that I could save the money more wisely towards a big fuck off plasma telly with surround sound and all kinds of super doper infra red I-pod amp related boom box shit.

Boys and toys. Girls and fixtures and fittings.

Later on it was a night of future and past – we’re good together – her folks took us out to the Watership – man, I had a good steak and sank some drams of Tennessee – some fine red wine – tried to sound like I knew what I was talking about when it came to world affairs – sample quote:

“look if you poison folk, take away their livelihoods, give them no option but to work in the factory making cheap lighters, make it so that they need the kids to work alongside them instead of school – people get tired, poor, ill and angry – and then they blow shit up” and then shrug like that’s all there is to the subject of terrorism.

I can say things like that every once in a while and still retain my “one of the family” status though – I dance with her mother - talk tech with her father – I play DVD Trivial Pursuit – I make the tea.

Listened to Common later on – our heads lackadaisically bobbing to ”Go” - the day winding down – the fire burned and the wine was empty - we’ll always be like this with each other – always there, where ever there is – in one form of communication or another - lucky to be this cool in each others company – now is how it’s supposed to be, her and I.

We smoked cigarettes in the garden, saw more stars than we’ve seen perhaps in our whole 28 years, comfortably shared a silence and went our separate ways to bed.

Spo | November 21, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK | Personal

November 20, 2005

Not so grown up after all…

I’ll write a longer post later, but just to say that I woke this morning after last nights party not feeling too bad for someone who had destroyed a fair 90% of a bottle of Jack - I surveyed the area - I was in the right bed and I wasn’t still wearing the same clothes - I seemed to have all my keys, wallet, phone, money etc and also had avoided any personal injury - I also could pretty much remember everything that happened.


”This is progress” I thought ”first I buy a flat - now I wake up after a big night out and seem to have controlled myself - indeed I am becoming one of the grown up people”


Then my mother popped her head round the door to inform me that she had awoke at 5am to the smell of something burning - she went down stairs and saw the oven was on - which when opened unleashed plumes of black smoke into the kitchen and then revealed what seemed like a block of charcoal sitting on a baking tray.


That’ll be that pizza I put in and then forgot about and went to bed then.


Doofus.

Spo | November 20, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK

November 15, 2005

Just like that…

I don’t muck about when it comes to every day life it must be said - buying clothes, ordering food, deciding on where when and how for an evening, betting on horses that won’t win but have great names - decisive - that’s true of me if nothing else - apart from being decisive with women - although I did ask a girl out the other day - she was wearing a cool hat you see - she looked a bit like Joni Mitchell on the front of one my dads 70’s album covers - kinda like the kind of hat Cassie is wearing in the post a few below about devon - in fact I fell for an Indonesian girl in a band who was wearing impossibly short-shorts and she was wearing one of those type of hats - but in that case it may of been the short-shorts - but the hat definitely helped - I kind of like the idea of women in chef hats too - I always said ”Kylie Minogue, in the cake factory, wearing the chef hat - my kind of cluedo” and I stand by that....

anyways I bought a flat - sorry, that was what I am here to tell you - but I got distracted by the realisation that I do like a woman in a good hat - not any old hat - but you know, a detectives kind of hat - or a chefs hat - yes - those two - it’s not a fetish I don’t think - well I typed in ”woman in chef hat” on the internet super highway communication device and nothing came up as far as nak… anyways

SO yes! the flat! that’s a bit sudden isn’t it? well it was just a bloody good deal, a steal in fact - and it’s in a perfick place with valley views and not much noise - two mniutes near to trains, bars, restaurants and shops - very rentable and likely to go up in price as its in Winchester - which is a pricey place with limited development regulations and good connections to London - so if I work abroad again in the next few years I’ll have no probs.

It’s finished next spring and all manner of gubbins needs sorting as to choice of this and that - but they pretty much fit all the things you need in with the price - so all I have to do is get the wonderful women in my life to choose the colours, carpets, fixtures and fittings - women like doing these things I find - it’s like when we men get the latest issue of FHM and choose the top ten from 100 high street honeys or pick our fantasy football teams.

It will be a mighty effort on mortgage payments I suppose - but I’m savvy to saving and will get an interest only deal at first until I earn more.

I like the word savvy.

anyways - yes - I am a house owner - a proper grown up - not that you’d know from reading this I guess - or the real reasoning about deciding to buy:

Sturdy: it’s not so bad living with your folks you know
Spo: I know - a lot gets done for you and there’s always food in
Sturdy: yeah and it’s fecking cheap as - I mean what 200 quid a month? food, rent, bills.... you’re laughing
Spo: yes indeed
Sturdy: I’m in no rush right now - I’ve got my own space there
Spo: yeah but we’re 28 though...
Sturdy: yeah so what? plenty of folk live with their folks later in life these days - in the past the only young people that bought houses were the ones who got married.
Spo: yeah but it isn’t the way forward to be 28 and still inviting girls back to your parents place to take things on a bit - I mean women want to meet your folks as one of their little chalk points for signs of commitment - but not that early… like first night early…
Sturdy: don’t tell them until breakfast?
Spo: I need to get my own place quickly

Spo | November 15, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK | Personal

November 12, 2005

“where’s my double Vodka I ordered?” - “Sorry sir, it seems your duck escaped out to sea”

Because living on your own means being allowed to walk around butt naked, never locking the bathroom door, cooking in your pants and always finding things were you left them - I’m going house hunting today.

Apparently some pension tax related gubbins comes into effect in March next year that means folk can include property they rent in their personal pension - therefore house prices are set to rise despite being in some what of a buyers market at the moment.

I don’t really know too much about things like these - pensions, investments, stocks, shares, houses, renting, tax relief etc etc - they should teach it in school - but I do know plenty of folk who do that I trust - so I stick to my moral of if ”you don’t know much about it ask someone that does and watch what they do”.

This is the principle behind how I eventually want to end up owning a bar by the lake in Malawi - I’ll invest/help out/drink in a bar run by a very good friend out there and then pick up what I need to know to hook a place of my own.

Early ideas include a bamboo waterway running the circumference of the bar - tables nearby will be allocated numbered rubber ducks who will have clipper beaks - inside these clipper beaks patrons may place their scribbled drinks and food orders - then the duck is placed in the water way and will merrily float its way to the barman who shall then bring across their order and bring their tables duck back.

Ducks have to negotiate obstacles like water falls, whirlpools, rocks and the bar cat called “Bo” who shall try to foil their journey out of spite and mean spirited playful interest. Ducks will have one chance to escape should fate dictate your order was never supposed to be - one channel will allow them to escape out into the blue yonder of lake Nyasa.

Hopefully the ducks make it though, meaning folk will never have to get up for anything and can loaf the day away in hammocks watching the sunset.

Sure I could hire a waitress or two - but then we’d just be like every other bar in the world.

Blogger family please advise me on what else you want to see featured apart from a rubber duck ordering system.

I am quite serious.

Spo | November 12, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Daily Life - Malawi | Kaneheads Kompanion | Ojeni | Personal

November 7, 2005

I take it all back…

I wrote yesterdays post over the weekend and then just uploaded it once I (finally) got home on Sunday - since then more has happened to put things in perspective and in retrospect I sound like something of an arrogant whining little shit in the previous post - I could edit but in all honesty maybe sometimes I am an arrogant whining little shit who sometimes should appreciate his good fortune, so I guess I should leave it.

Life is good, I am lucky, England has many plus points and is a damn site more organised than fecking Jakarta - you can breathe and drink the water for starters, my family are wonderful, specially my Gran who just had a stroke but has come out of it as she did two world wars - tough as old boots - my friends are califragafeckinglistically good people and a night watching football taking the Mickey and slipping back in the old routine was definitely needed - the especially califragilistic award goes to Anna who I spoke to via the miracle of telephonic device for a good stretch this evening and reminded me of why it is she was the one person I really needed to see when I got off the plane last week.

Even work with the fuckwit people wasn’t too bad today.

So although the below was mostly true and representative of how I felt at the time - it’s good to be back.

Tomorrow may be completely different however.

Cassie finds the perfick stone in Devon

Spo | November 7, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK | Personal

November 2, 2005

The Last Jakarta Dawn…… ?

This was all shot after Yuni and I were awoke at 5am by my brother from another mother Barnes - usually 5am phone calls freak the hell out of me, as to ring at such a time it must be bad news - but Barnes just hadn't got his head round the whole 6 hour difference from UK - yes, I've been away for 3 years..... he's still not got it... bless im.....

But in the end I woke to see the above in stages over the next hour or so.... Yuni and I stood out there on the balcony watching as Jakarta brewed up for my last day....

Shall miss my Jakarta Dawns....and the company I watched them with.

Spo | November 2, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Personal | Pictures

October 31, 2005

Terrafirma….

Greetings and salutations good people - once settled and with net related gubbins taken care of I want to:

* Show you the last Jakarta Dawn pic’s.
* Tell the tale of my last night in the big Durian as Jak is often called.
* List the many reasons the average airport and flight experience can lead you to want to commit murderous acts against people who should have to take personality tests before being given tickets.
* The first impressions of the UK and all its green, cold, wet, accent laden tom foolery.
* The weekend and pics from the gathering in Coastal Devon.
* Trying to get my head round all of life’s little and big problems regarding uprooting from one side of the world and pitching up in another where you think you will remain for the foreseeable future,
* Parents, friends, weddings.....
* Generally - the whole all round general anxiety, anticipation, apprehension and wide eyed-what-the-feck-of-have-I-gone-and-agreed-to-ness of the being back after 3 years type thing.

But at the moment it’s all about the girl

It’s all about the girl I’ve left behind.

But I kinda knew it was going to be like this I suppose

Spo | October 31, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Daily Life - UK | Personal

October 27, 2005

And So It Is…..

Spo | October 27, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Personal | Pictures

October 25, 2005

Shouldn’t it of been Psy-Mese?

my cat used to like toothpaste and fighting like a ninja

as much as a cat can

she was Siamese

although not a Simian

which you would think things from Siam would be referred to

if Siam existed

where was Siam exactly?

and were Siamese cats from there?

and what is the difference between “were” and “where”?

I seem to use them alternately when they feel right

I don’t remember the actual reasoning.....

I’ve said too much. pass the whisky. a toast.

I am relieved that there is no serial killer of cats in your neighbourhood.

Spo | October 25, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Kaneheads Kompanion | Ojeni | Personal | Pictures

October 24, 2005

Taking It’s Toll….

Friday was astounding - possibly my greatest in Indonesia and I remained conscious right up until the end when the cold air hit me and then I was no good to the world (arrived at apartment and asked “where am I” - “you live here” - “are you sure?”)

The 80’s/70’s theme morphed into a Rolling Stones/Halloween/general gubbins people flung together with extravagant make up evening - the live band that played to a packed club full of debauchery was unbelievable - I never really listened to much of the Rolling Stones before but now I cannot think of better band for furious-raucous-loud-sing-a-long-hands-with-lighters-guitar-solo-infused mayhem – Wild Horses and what not – a bit of Hey Jude slipped in there some how – but in such situations, doesn’t it always?

The Indonesian tribute band to the Rolling Stones blew the lid off the place - doesn’t sound right does it? Indonesian tribute bands should be god awful - they usually are – mumbled English, bad tuning, over excitable guitars - but these boys were untouchable - Ronnie Wood look-alike standing atop the actual bar playing a guitar solo - looking around the place it was like something out of a Nam war movie - the bar of sin that all boys have their last night in before going off to war – band members crowd surfing, Tequila shots flowed, drinks on fire, women pole dancing in the haze of it all.... god damn it.

Muchos elseos happened over the weekend of a drinking debauchery dancing singing sex food laughter nature – I don’t think you don’t need details – in the midst of it all Yuni got drunk and emotional and bombarded me with things to think about – when’s, where’s, why’s, why nots – right there in the taxi cab in the early hours of new Monday I almost said “fuck it, lets get married and you come with me – we’ll figure it out as we go”

Almost

Saying goodbye to Jakarta is taking it’s toll on the body and soul - but only 4 more days now....

Spo | October 24, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Kaneheads Kompanion | Personal

October 21, 2005

The Kiwi was going to Kill me…

The Weekend has started early – it was one of those don’t remember jack shit evenings on Wednesday – my body trying to drive itself on despite no oil in the tank – pouring more and more vodka down my throat in the mistaken belief that this would help – really food and sleep was needed – but my judgement can be some what fuzzy in such situations.


My memory of the evening shuts off after midnight - like a video recorder that cancels while taping Cursed because it knows the film is absolute dog shit and is saving you the trouble of actually watching – my memory was obviously storing data up to a point and then decided it already knew the ending to this particular evenings tale and that all subsequent events were simply not worth keeping on file due to their erratic, foolish, noisy, nature.


I awoke to find evidence of my antics that helped piece together the story memory refused to capture:


•Horrible baked in an oven head.

•3 hours late for work.

•a call list on my mobile from people I have not spoken too for very long time – including my brother in Oz who I apparently woke at an ungodly hour to call him a “cunty biscuit” and “a shitty beagle”

•Big bump on forehead, many credit card bar bill receipts and no money

•Evidence of an unfortunate upchucking toilet incident

•Very, Very Angry girl-friend


Yuni also had to intervene to stop me getting killed by a giant Kiwi man who was twice my size, very drunk and not amused by my smart-alec-cheeky fuckwit antics – he was a monster apparently:


“he looked like he was going to tear off your head at one point – these people are dangerous”


how could anyone want to hurt me? I’m the personification of natural English fucking charm God Damn it!


“not when you’re that drunk, baby, you are just annoying and hard to control”


She said getting me home and looking after me was like looking after rampaging baby elephant.


We elected to stay in bed all day and order pizza for breakfast


Later on there were $25,000 home stereo systems to marvel at, Lebanese restaurants and 18 year old whisky with Glen in the title.


Tonight is a 70’s 80’s theme at the bar – Yuni is auctioning cocktails – I’m going as Tony Montana from Scarface


Coz apparently I dress like him anyway.

Spo | October 21, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Personal

October 19, 2005

Don’t know which way to swim…

Hmmmm.... so one week to go more or less - back to the UK - it’s gone from feeling like I am swimming up from the murky depths towards taking a giant gulp of fresh air, to imagining someone has pulled the plug and I’m trying to swim against the current as all the water surrounding me disappears down the hole.


Like those rats in the Secret of Nimh.


Although they weren’t under water - they were running through the air conditioning unit of the laboratory they were escaping from - and then someone turned it on and some of the little fella’s didn’t make it.


Actually me wanting to go and then not being sure is nothing like the Secret of Nimh - scratch that - no in fact - we’ll stay with that and scratch the indecisive whining instead.


Secret of Nimh freaked me out as a child - so did Animal Farm, Plague Dogs and Watership Down - and Garbage Pail Kids trading cards - and then later on the video for Bjork’s Human Nature (although that was also due to LSD).


And that bit in Jaws 3-D where the shark comes through the observation decks window and crunches the random worker dudes leg at the end.


But those cartoon films that suddenly de-disneyed situations and made you realise sometimes the world isn’t quite such a sugar-coated-technicolor-happy-clappy-hero-pup kind of place - they must of been good fun for the parents - I mean to see the dawning realisation on your child’s face as Secret of Nimh’s rats are falling down the air-con, the plague dogs getting cut down in a hail of bullets by the authorities, General Woundwort going on the bloody rampage at the end of Watership Down and the Horse getting sent off to the Glue factory in Animal Farm - yes children - life’s not all Mickey Mouse taking Minnie out shopping - sometimes it’s about rats in medical laboratories, Rabbit’s being culled as vermin, Dogs having rabies and Horses getting turned into glue when they can’t walk anymore.

They should make more cartoons like that - they keep on about these new breed of children’s films were both parent and child may enjoy on different levels - Monsters Inc with the cuddly characters but by the way did you get the Hitchcock tribute?, same deals with Shrek, Toy Story, Madagascar, Corpse Bride etc etc - it’s for kids essentially but there’s something to nod and wink at for adults too.

Fuck off - I’m here to watch this cartoon to make the kid stop screaming in my ear - I know my fate - stop trying to be clever and get on with the songs.


Those terrible, terrible songs....I will catch you one day Tim Rice, Elton John and Phil Bloody Collins.


If they want to entertain adults they should start with cartoon’s that pull a Sixth Sense on the kiddies monkey ass - no more happy endings - they don’t just kill Bambi’s mother but they come back for Bambi too, Venison all round and Thumper gets turned into slippers - Dumbo gets butt-fucked by a rhino and then has his tusks chopped off and sold to the Ivory trade - The Aristocats get run over by street racers - Lady and the Tramp go to the pound - American tale 2: Fievel goes West and gets forced into a life of prostitution.


All dogs do not go to heaven.


You queue up with the nippers one side of the cinema - all happy and enthusiastic and expectant - meanwhile a line of tearful mourning kids come out the exit on the other side - fathers telling their spawn that life is not always a rainbow - sometimes Mickey Mouse gets caught in the trap chasing cheese and his head falls off.


Tell em how it is early in life, build em strong - Father Christmas comes down your chimney and gives you presents in the middle of the night? son, once everyone is in bed, if you find anyone in our house who you don’t recognise - you go get daddy’s shot gun and start firing, you hear me?


Ok, ok, ok - let them bask in the glorious sunshine of innocent youth a while longer - where Donald Duck happily settles down with the tormenting chipmunks who inhabit his Christmas tree - instead of calling in Rent-o-kill and laughing while they gas the fuckers.

Spo | October 19, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Film / TV / Music

October 18, 2005

Ten Random Thoughts….

1. I spend too much of my working life looking for my pen.
2. The importance of a day can be judged by the quality of the pants that you wear.
3. Like Obi-wan, I wish that permanently wearing dressing gown and slippers could be a socially acceptable way to go about your day.
4. The pain endured picking a just brewed tea bag from your cup is worth it.
5. If a schizophrenic locks himself in a room is it a hostage situation?
6. Straight to video Sci-Fi Action Adventure is about as far away from a guarantee of good quality as you can get.
7. When in doubt, mugs make the best presents – people always use them and they always have a favourite.
8. Like chicken in the morning and smoking on the toilet – pineapple on pizza is very, very wrong.
9. The religious definition of Heaven is pretty vague really, isn’t it?
10. Toast should be talked about with a little more respect.

Spo | October 18, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Kaneheads Kompanion

October 17, 2005

I Love It When A Plan Comes Together!…

I am very califragalistically chuffed to tell you that Operation Hanh has been a complete success - I have blagged, harried, hustled and stomped my way into persuading those that make choices on such matters to give her the job of Logistics manager in the new official Vietnam set up my companies going ahead with.

Assuming her current backward-stone-age-numpty-fuckwit-company does not provide too many obstacles to her leaving, she’ll start in November - she’ll get a decent wage, pension, medical, insurance and a stable solid career for the future - plus they’ll hire someone to fill in for her when she takes maternity from Feb next year (this was the huge sticking point).

Sure, I felt guilty about how things ended up with me leaving last year - that it coulda worked out if I’d stepped up earlier - that she ended up in a shitty situation in life because we didn’t make the break when the break was there to make. After a while I talked myself into the sensible way of looking at things - that in the end, the time was not right and it wasn’t my fault things turned out the way they did with her arranged marriage and pregnancy etc - culture clash, her family, herself - all larger factors than me being hesitant to jump off a cliff and see if we could fly - such decisions cannot be made lightly - you must know that there is a fair chance you will take flight, otherwise it’s a long way down.


But still I could see how unhappy she was and wanted to do what I could to help her - and this was the only way - and it all turned out golden.


That they are now changing the Vietnam office to an official set up, rather than working with a rep company, is a testament to what Tri and I set up there three years ago - the business has developed to a level that means this is the next step. If I leave this earth tomorrow then that office will be my mini legacy - although I suppose if I had not existed there would be less of Vietnams poisonous crap masquerading as tea in the worlds cuppa’s.


Now the office will be in good hands with my friend Duong running the show assisted by his hiring of Hanh - she’s a fine trader, knows her tea, good knowledge of logistics and has excellent contacts - her translation skills are the best I encountered in Vietnam - she is perfect for the job - I don’t know why I had to try so hard to persuade people - would of thought it was obvious - but yeah, hire someone and then a couple of months later they chip off to have a kid doesn’t look right on balance sheets at head office I guess - that kind of thinking is what runs shows all over the place - rather than the fact that secure stable jobs like these in such parts of Asia are gold dust - that you really make a difference to peoples lives with every financial decision that relates to business in countries with high levels of poverty and low social support standards - that it’s not like she will have the chance of similar elsewhere one day.


My friend and partner in crime, Tri, will not be part of the new set up - effectively Hanh’s position is possible because he chooses to leave rather than work under one of his fellow countrymen - to whom he would probably end up teaching most of what he knows rather than learn from, yet still have the lower position and wage - I agree with him in the end - although sad to see all he learned about tea will not go on to mean too much in his next job - it’s like I taught him how to be a Jedi and now he’s giving it all up for a life of dusting crops.

Spo | October 17, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia

October 16, 2005

“Dream Me” gets really lucky and then gets “Real Me” in trouble….

Yuni: Smiley, I had a dream where I woke up in this bed and you were asleep next to me with another girl in your arms
Cool!
No it was not cool – I was angry as I didn’t know who she was or where she came from or why you would do that
I didn’t – it was a dream
I know – I woke up and saw you sleeping by yourself – I was angry with you for a second and then I realised it was all ok
Well yeah – I didn’t do anything apart from sleep – it really is hard for me to stay out of your bad books if I get in trouble for things dream me does as well as real me
Don’t worry about it now – it was just a horrible dream....
Sounded pretty good to me (then I realised should not of said that last sentence out loud)

Spo | October 16, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Kaneheads Kompanion | Personal

October 15, 2005

Put in the right place…

Yuni: They say this one has no pictures on it
Spo: Bugger, that means one of the two rolls of film I threw away this morning was the one we needed
But I asked you if you were sure if they were the broken ones and you said “yes”
Yeah well I was sure – as sure as I could be based on what I remember doing with all the films
Actually it’s my fault – as a woman I should of known you as a man would probably make a mistake and we should get them checked before throwing away
Erm…. Yeah it’s erm… your fault… stupid head
Go down to the bins and see if you can still find them
But…

GO!
ok

Spo | October 15, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia

October 14, 2005

You’ll get crumbs everywhere…

Yuni: Why won’t you add my Mariah Carey CD to your I-pod?

Spo: My I-pod is a sacred place free from evil
You don’t like Mariah Carey?
Do you know the word Banshee?
No
Well she is a Banshee
What is Banshee
Wailing noisy woman who seems to take up all the oxygen in the room
You don’t think she is attractive?
Not especially.... but I guess I wouldn’t kick her out of bed for eating biscuits

Spo | October 14, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Film / TV / Music | Kaneheads Kompanion | Personal

October 14, 2005

Scrumptious…

Robin called from Holland to get an update on matters in general - I haven’t caused financial meltdown or shipped the wrong container to the wrong part of the world etc - then, as he was about to hang up…

“So do you want me to bring anything back from the western world for you?”

“Monster Munch” - (without missing a beat) -

“What?”

“they’re crisps… in the shape of monsters hands - Rahhh!”

“crisps?”

“yes - get pickled onion flavour - they’re scrumptious”

“I don’t think....”

“Off the top of my head, it’s the only thing I miss that I can think of right now - unless you can also bring the love of a fine English woman”

“rigggghhht - ok - stop drinking so much”

“ok”

Spo | October 14, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Kaneheads Kompanion | Ojeni

October 13, 2005

Eventually Everything….

Eventually I’m going to have to have the ”so I’m leaving on a jet plane” conversation – by then it will have been a great couple of months - I’ve begun to think that living here would be not such a bad thing as a result of the last month - although I think that also has something to do with working on my own the last 4 weeks - having the responsibility and drive to make a day of things instead of day dreaming about elsewhere other than here - that will change once Robin is back and I’m no longer the conductor of chaos.


Things were clear when we met, but I can already see she is going to be upset - it hangs in the air even now - that we will talk of ”what now?” - promises to stay in touch - that I will try to look after her financially like I did with Hanh and Debbie - that maybe one day I’ll come back here and we’ll hook up again - should she wait etc.... but I probably won’t ever come back any time soon - soon being within the next 10 years - so we’ll both sort of talk around what I think she wants and I perhaps could want - that she comes with me and we just go for it the way I could of done with Hanh - although Hanh had less chance of working than this does I think…. she’s waiting for me to talk, the same way Hanh waited and then Hanh decided it wasn’t going to happen, I wasn’t going to face it, so she went her own way….


We’re comfortable, there’s no unnecessary pressure or awkward silence - she’s cool enough without prompting - she drinks, dances and mixes and blends and yeah, it could work I guess - and if it didn’t, well there’s the trying that’s important - what is lost? - but really, in the end, it’s the kid - 6 years old, shy, apprehensive and reserved - she’s different with her mother of course - who she fiercely loves - perhaps that’s why so distant with me - I take her mother away from her and represent the same type of guy that dragged her off to Hamburg and Rio and then upset her so much after turning her life upside down - I made a conscious decision not to try and get too close here - I knew the time limit was ticking and that kids get attached - it hurts them more as they don’t understand the reasons “why” when everything must come to an end.


and a 6 year old Indonesian girl, a sweet heart with no English lingo and no friends and family other than her mother on the other side of the world… how does that work?


it doesn’t


maybe with time it might - a tutor - a year or two of turmoil .....


That I think about this scenario doesn’t mean the only reason it won’t happen is the kid - it’s that this is the reason that stands out the most I suppose - there are other things that tell me this isn’t quite the time to make a move so bold…


She is going to tell me she loves me - I can see it coming - I don’t mean to sound like I’m making arrogant assumptions here - it’s just that I don’t think you need to be told if someone loves you in order to know - I can see it coming like a faraway steam train on unchangeable tracks – the smoke above the tree’s - it’s been intense and there have been too many instances where conversations trail off, too many reminders of things I’ve said while wasted that’ve set her thinking, too many times she talks like this isn’t ending any time soon…


She got over my lack of conformity to the standard issue relationship rules and regulations:


“thou shalt call three times a day or thou does not care about me”


“thou dost not return phone call in evening, thou must be in the arms of another”


– in the end she’s comfortable with the way I go about communicating and she trusts me - she says she feels at ease - we don’t argue, but we talk when things aren’t cool.... she’d be right to expect – she’d be right to wonder – I mean what is it exactly that we’re missing here?


But as I say - more time and no kid, this coulda been something super serious I think – even with her daughter it would have been ok if I was staying – but I’m not - I’m leaving on the 27th and I won’t be coming back anytime soon - and in the end, I know she can’t come with me.


So when does it actually end up being the time? What marker do you pass? Like there is a check list and all the boxes have to be crossed before next steps are taken? - all these relationships ending because of circumstances - never anything that doesn’t work out between us, but perhaps due to something or other that never took place?


I dunno …


....anyways - make the last two weeks a good two weeks… and then when the time comes, take the hit and get on the plane I guess....


...touch down and consider who or why it is elsewhere that means I keep leaving all these places…


...and then there is a whole other conversation to have.

Spo | October 13, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Personal

October 12, 2005

Top Ten Tommy Cooper….

1. Two blondes walk into a building..........you’d think at least one of them would have seen it.

2. Phone answering machine message - “...If you want to buy marijuana, press the hash key...”

3. I went to the butchers the other day and I bet him 50 quid that he couldn’t reach the meat off the top shelf.

He said,”No, the steaks are too high.”

4. Two Eskimos sitting in a kayak were chilly. They lit a fire in the craft, it sank, proving once and for all that you can’t have your kayak and heat it.

5. A man takes his Rotteweiller to the vet.

“My dog is cross-eyed, is there anything you can do for him?”

“Well,” said the vet, ”let’s have a look at him”

So he picks the dog up and examines his eyes, then he checks his teeth.

Finally, he says, “I’m going to have to put him down.”

“What? Becausehe’s cross-eyed?”

“No, because he’s really heavy”

6. So I was getting into my car, and this bloke says to me ”Can you give me a lift?”

I said ”Sure, you look great, the world’s your oyster, go for it.’

7. Two fat blokes in a pub, one says to the other ”Your round.”

The other one says ”So are you, you fat bastard!”

8. Police arrested two kids yesterday, one was drinking battery acid, and the other was eating fireworks.

They charged one and let the other one off.

9. A man walked into the doctors, he said, ”I’ve hurt my arm in several places”

The doctor said, “Well don’t go there anymore”

10. Ireland’s worst air disaster occurred early this morning when a small two-seater Cessna plane crashed into a cemetery.

Irish search and rescue workers have recovered 1826 bodies so far and expect that number to climb as digging continues into the night.

Spo | October 12, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Film / TV / Music | Kaneheads Kompanion | Ojeni

October 11, 2005

Let’s pretend you never saw me earlier……

I went DVD hunting and whilst in the area called in to see Yuni at Mybar (actual name but also perfect description) - she starts at 5pm, but no customers ever turn up until 10pm - until then the staff play pool, raid the kitchen and sing with the house band - it is what is known as “a damn fine blag”.

Anyways, upon entry I was persuaded to indulge in more than a few of my resident White Russians and Jack Doubles - leaving via taxi a few hours later, I was a mildly bit battered - you see I left my car at the Kristal Hotel earlier - reason being I prefer to catch $2 taxi’s everywhere further than a stones throw - this is mainly due to the fact the average car journey in Jakarta leads you to exclaim ”Cheeky Fucker!” and ”Jesus! what Balls!” with alarming regularity whilst observing the antics of fellow drivers - it’s best to be a passenger rather than a driver - good for the heart - good for the soul - entertaining for the eye.

So, taxi dropped me at the hotel and I nodded to the door staff and security as I made my way to the basement to collect my mahoof mobile - only to find it was not in my usual spot - hmmmm.... a number of other Kijang’s dotted around the parking lot and I tried the key-shooty-alarm-thing with each in turn - not having any memory of licence plates and what not - then it hit me - I had actually parked outside near the entrance to the hotel - if, that is, you could call my rather atrocious attempt actually parking - I can’t park (I never really learned and then on the test they never really asked - it’s been that way ever since - 10 years - I’m just lucky with drive in spaces) - it was one of those efforts where you walk away looking embarrassed, hoping no one saw you.

So I’d been down in the basement for about 15 minutes shooting Kijangs and looking like a mongoloid.

When the penny dropped, I caught the lift back up to the lobby entrance and walked past the same security and door staff again - keys in hand.

They smiled as always....

....but it was a knowing smile.

Spo | October 11, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia

October 9, 2005

Yes I know it seems like I’m always hungover, but my girl-freind runs a bar….

I was sitting in a taxi with shitty air conditioning, trying to swat a mosquito that had already bitten me three times – once on the top of my right ear, once on the left ankle and once on the right thumb knuckle – the thumb knuckle I tell you – the audacity of fucker – right in front of my very eyes – after a while I was sure he was a highly trained assassin mosquito, sent by the gods of karma to fuck with me for laughing at a fat man who fell over yesterday.


The horn happy taxi driver was trying to swat the mozzie as well – that would normally be a problem if he was driving at the same time, but we had been sitting in a barely moving gridlocked trickle of mechanical monotony for a good 20 minutes and progress was slow - hindsight being a bitch as usual, I now wished we’d of waited for a more trustworthy blue bird cab instead - this god forsaken gibbon had taken us the long way round to bump the meter and now we were stuck as a result.


Two fire engines were also stuck - right behind us with lights flashing and sirens blaring – unlike other countries fire services whose sirens try and “mix it up a bit”, Indonesian fire engines just make a continuous high pitched squealing sound – they had been there for a while now – my taxi driver was either stone deaf or had balls of steel, as he wasn’t making any obvious attempts to cut into to the inside lane and let them move up a notch - I guess it’s a case of fuck the burning masses with traffic as bad as this.


Yuni was asleep in my lap – oblivious to the heat, the mosquitoes, the frustrating gridlock and the squealing sirens – instead of thinking how beautifully peaceful she looked, all that crossed my mind was that her head was surprisingly heavy.


We had both just come from watching the Corpse Bride – a film that I took her to see as I thought she actually wanted to watch it – I later found out she slept through the film - I had also nodded off intermittently - wishing the damn stick people would stop fucking singing so much and that the kid next to me I gave my pop corn to would stop tapping me on the arm to offer me the popcorn I had just given him – I DON’T WANT THE FUCKING POPCORN THAT IS WHY I GAVE IT TO YOU.


Incidentally the film is indeed very clever, but ultimately it is for children and not angry hot and bothered hungover people who have not had enough sleep.


Before the Corpse Bride we had once again turned up on the steps of the Intercontinental for the brunch – both of us looking decidedly dishevelled in that baked, baggy, perplexed by everything, kind of way – ‘here are those two alcoholic stop outs that take advantage of our exuberant champagne pouring nature and eat all our sushi” thought the welcoming staff.


What they thought when they found evidence in the washroom of my upchucking of the first three courses, I don’t know – we left with me feeling far from Golden muttering about wanting to be shot.


Once Yuni had been dropped at work and taxi gibbon had felt he had run the meter up sufficiently to now take me to where I wanted to go, I picked my car up from the Kristal hotel and drove back to my haven of loaf. On the way I listened to a purchased earlier in the day CD by a band named McLuskey – I noticed the disc due to fact that they called their album “The difference between me and you is that I’m not on fire” which created an image that made me laugh at the time.


I’d asked if I could listen first, but they didn’t want to open the packaging – not in the mood for arguing the point, I was swayed by the recommendation from a sassy hip looking cashier girl who had a tongue stud and a carnivorous eye - I reasoned that if I didn’t buy it, I’d disappoint her - and then the very distant % chance of us one day sleeping together would be reduced – I’m shallow like this when I’m hungover sometimes – and if I’m honest, it’s the same reasoning behind why I let women drivers out of T-junctions during heavy traffic too.


Anyways actually listening to the songs on McLuskeys album is without a doubt one of the worst things to ever happen to me – it’s cacophonic noise from the depths of hell – it’s like they have thrown a bunch of frying pans off a cliff and recorded the effect of them bouncing off the rocks for backing to a bunch of screaming drunk people – when I got home I frisbee’d the CD off the balcony – no doubt it will probably find a way to come back and haunt me.


And then I poured a glass of orange and ants found it and then I drank them by accident - no doubt they will probably find a way to come back and haunt me too.


Jakarta life is really testing my will to live at the moment – I’m gonna throw in the towel and go to bed early – no doubt it’ll prove to be the only sensible decision I’ll have made all day.

Spo | October 9, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Personal

October 7, 2005

Films you may not of seen but should - Part 2

Bottle Rocket

They’re not really criminals...

...but everybody’s got to have a dream

Wes Anderson’s 1996 directorial debut was picked by Martin Scorsese as one of his top ten films of the 90’s - that sentence alone should convince you to seek it out if you haven’t already had the pleasure of coming across this relatively unseen slice of genius that comes from the writing talents of Owen Wilson and Anderson.

The story follows the laidback, directionless Anthony (Luke Wilson) upon his release from a mental hospital following a breakdown. He joins up with his long time friend Dignan (Owen Wilson) and sad assed loser pal Bob and they embark upon a series of adventures that culminate in a rather unorthodox robbery under the guidance of the supposedly legendary Mr.Heny (an always brilliant James Cann).

Suffice to say nothing goes to plan.

Anthony – on how he ended up in a mental institute:

One morning, over at Elizabeth’s beach house, she asked me if I’d rather go water-skiing or lay out. And I realized that not only did I not want to answer THAT question, but I never wanted to answer another water-sports question, or see any of these people again for the rest of my life.

I first came across this film playing late night on one of the backwater cable stations – channel flicking around, this oddity stood out enough in the seconds I was flying by to keep me from flicking any further.

You get hooked in by the easy going manner of Luke Wilson’s Anthony playing off the charmingly childlike, yet slightly worryingly insane fervour of Owen Wilson’s Dignan – then the laidback narrative flow, speakeasy dialogue, the perfect soundtrack and lackadaisical humour seal the deal – this isn’t your average heist movie – it’s a Wes Anderson heist movie and nowadays - after Rushmore, The Royal Tenenbaums and Life Aquatic – people are more likely to know what this is – and if you don’t then “innocent friends trying to commit crime” should give you an idea.

Dignan – explaining his planned heist:

Here are just a few of the key ingredients: dynamite, pole vaulting, laughing gas, choppers - can you see how incredible this is going to be? - hang gliding, come on!

It’s the little things that make up life and it’s the little things that make up Bottle Rocket – the cast of supporting characters such like Applejack and Kumar (also Pagoda in Tenenbaums and Mr. Little jeans in Rushmore), the way Anthony helps Inez clean the motel rooms while conducting an attempt at romancing her, the way Bob’s asshole brother is called “Future man” and there is no reason given for this, Mr Henry’s gardening company being called the “Lawn Wranglers”, Dignan on the mini chopper wearing a bright yellow jumpsuit – there are so many touches added to the tale that tell you that this is a story written by good friends working together – every character conjured, every line added, every piece of music played – all mean something to the writers and actors.

Dignan interviewing Bob for a role in the heist:

Bob Mapplethorpe, potential get-away driver: go!
Bob: Well, I think there’s a real air of mystery about me…
Dignan: Don’t complicate it. Your number one strength is you have a car you can provide. Sell yourself! Start over. Ready, go!

Bob: Okay, alright. I’m a risk taker! I’m growin’ an entire crop of marijuana plants in my parents back yard! I think that shows…
Dignan: Wait, you’re growing an entire crop of marijuana in your back yard?
Bob: Dignan, look. I’m just not very good at this selling-yourself stuff, okay? So, I’m just gonna tell you the truth. I really wanna be a part of this team. And I’m the only one with a car.
Dignan: That’s good. That’s good. ‘Cause that hits me right here.

The Wilson’s and Anderson obviously go back a long way – this is the big screen intro for them all before going on to bigger things – it was originally a short film that the Wilson brothers, who had never acted before, ended up starring in due to the low budget. As a result Columbia pictures green lighted the big screen affair which, although it showed on only a few screens, won a lot of praise and made back it’s budget leading to more offers for the Wilson’s and Anderson - all of whom still remain close with collaborations in all of Anderson’s work so far:

Owen Wilson co-wrote/appeared in Rushmore and Tenenbaums and starred in Life Aquatic – a film that seemed much colder without his writing – Luke Wilson appears in Rushmore and stars in Tenenbaums, while his own as yet unreleased directorial/writer debut, The Wendall Baker Story, also stars Owen - furthermore that film is also co-written with Andrew Wilson – another member of the family who plays Future man in Bottle Rocket, Coach Beck in Rushmore and appears in the Tenenbaums and Zoolander (with Owen).

It’s worth noting the lack of writing credit for Owen Wilson on the Life Aquatic as this is the least enjoyable of Anderson’s films so far – his surf dude demeanour and willingness to get involved with A-list ass-trash like the Haunting & Anaconda, leads some to say there isn’t much going on up inside his head – however, with the writing/acting collaborations on Anderson’s films, his quiet considered performance in the Minus Man and the endlessly quotable comedic turns in Zoolander, Starsky and Hutch and The Wedding Crashers, he should not be dismissed so easily.

But yes the Big Bounce was a indeed a big bag of wank.

Andersons next is an animated adaptation of Roald Dahl’s “The Fantastic Mr. Fox” – his character driven films so far do indeed have a unique charm, understated direction and quality soundtrack - but without the Wilson’s comedic influence it remains to be seen if future projects will live up to the quality of Rushmore, Tenenbaums and this little seen comfy comic gem of genius.

Dignan: Who tripped the alarm, man?

Anthony: It’s the fire alarm!
Dignan: Who tripped the fire alarm?
Anthony: IT’S BECAUSE OF ALL THIS FUCKING SMOKE!

Films you may not of seen but should - Part 1

Spo | October 7, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Film / TV / Music | Kaneheads Kompanion | Personal

October 6, 2005

Operation Hanh…..

A califragalistically good thing is possibly going to happen - I may not have ended up getting together with Hanh when I left Nam last year and I may not be able to solve her current crisis with the whole arranged marriage army-colonel-having-his-baby-while-dealing-with-wicked-bitchy-sister-in-laws & -a-mother-in-law-who-is-also-very-ill thing either - but I am 75% of the way to organising a decent job with my company for her.


Before our company was not officially represented in Vietnam - we worked with an agent - now we are setting up shop good and proper and hiring a group of people - so I’m doing my level best to make sure she gets a good job with decent pay and benefits etc


Then I’ll be able to make sure she gets a passport on the basis of need for foreign travel to meet clients etc etc - you see the problem at the moment is that her current shitty company would have to approve any passport she gets (it’s a Nam thing) - and her mental case boss is super friendly with the whole arranged marriage family thing - so in the end, if she got a passport arranged-marriage-army-colonel-man would want to know “why you have passport? you want go where?”


So as well as making sure she has a career, job she loves, a fair wage and medical benefits - once she gets a passport I can safely bust her outta there if she ever needs me to.....


Bugger - as I write I find that the only thing standing in the way of this master plan is her maternity leave which may mean they need to hire someone else initially - it seems 3-4 months without her during the beginning of next year is not really possible, as this is when they set up the office - however, the tea season doesn’t really start until late May/early June and this is when she would be most needed to handle all the shipments etc - also Duong, who is setting up the office for us, is a very good friend and I hope he does me this big favour - he has always come up with the golden goods in the past.


Anyways, I’ll keep up the good fight and see if I can blag it - surely the gods of karma have got to watching over this and can shove a helpful signpost of destiny in front of the eyes of the relevant decision makers?


If only so I can imitate Hannibal from the A-team chomping on a cigar saying “I love it when a plan comes together....”


In other news last night Yuni and I went to funky Japanese restaurant lounge bar loafing haven (for future reference I learned:don’t order raw Squid or eat the little brown yellowy egg stuff) and they had a live band playing - Yuni was getting requests sent up and when she felt they weren’t doing a good enough job, she asked if she could sing instead - she then proceeded to bring the fucking house down god damn it! it was an Indonesian song, but it sounded funky and she seemed to sing it very well - the bar crowd loved it - I was as proud as a mongoose who’d outwitted a bag full of rattle snakes.


I’d write more but quite honestly I’ve had about 4 hours sleep due to the willingness of the Hyatt hotel bar to stay open into the small hours to accommodate our never ending thirst for Long Island Ice Tea’s.

Spo | October 6, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia

October 5, 2005

Getting Wise In The Ways Of The Force…..

“I’ve flown from one side of this galaxy to the other and I’ve seen a lot of strange stuff......but I’ve never seen ANYTHING to make me believe that there’s ONE all powerful force controlling EVERYTHING ……….. There’s no mystical energy field controlling my destiny”

Yeah..... but I bet Han never found himself seemingly in love with three different women at the same time, yet having to keep on changing countries just when things got interesting, leading him to think that someone or something is definitely fucking with him.....

Spo | October 5, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Kaneheads Kompanion | Personal

October 3, 2005

Be Like Bruce Lee going WAAAAHHHH!!!!….

Well I just got back from the secret hideaway on the coast and have walked in to find 3 bombs have gone off in Bali, Liverpool got a bushwhacking from Chelsea and I have to figure out where this restaurant is that I’m taking the folk in the office to for huge meal before Ramadan kicks off tmw (Muslim period of fasting and general chaos - note to self: must stop calling it Ramadam-a-ding-dong) - I have postponed actual work I get paid for until after I have caught up on these matters (and writing) - so things are a bit hectic - as things always are when you return after disappearing for 3 days of sitting on a beach whilst doing feck all about anything other than things that make you smile.


So don’t know much about much at the moment, but wanted to stop by and tell you about this fecked up dream I had first of all - I found a saved unsent text msg in my phone on Sunday afternoon and then remembered typing it after waking from rather extraordinary dream-tom-foolery during Saturday nights sleepathon - you see if I can still remember them, I normally scribble down dreams on a piece of paper when I wake, but in this case I only had my mobile close to hand - these vessels of story telling shipwreck on the rocks of reality when you return to the land of the living - you only have so much time to note down vital pieces of the tall-tale before it all sinks below the surface - if you’re not quick, it’s gone forever.


Ex-wife angry - Ninja children - battered car in the drive - I used a broom handle


..and then when I saw this I had a hazy flashback to some sort of Kill Bill Scenario and I had been surprised at home by my angry Ex-wife and her/mine(?) Ninja children - they had done a number on my car leaving it all battered up in the drive - and I remember going to the kitchen and getting tooled up by braking off the brush end of a broom and then coming out into the garden brandishing the pole to take them all on while giving a Bruce Lee style ”Waaaahhhh!” war cry.


I don’t know what happened after that - they probably kicked my ass and I woke up.


I don’t have an ex-wife nor can I remember who she was in the dream, I don’t have any children (although when I do I would like them to be Ninja’s - but then I think that is the hope of any potential parent) and I don’t have a car.


I also have no knowledge of martial arts - I do like Ninja’s however - there’s always been something cool about them - stealthy little buggers.


The only thing that could of inspired this dream is that Yuni used to be a Tae-Kwondo expert (she retired at 19) and she dropped the “So Smiley, what would you say if I was pregnant?” conversation into the mix while we where sitting by the sea earlier in the day - I was about to answer using sounds to make words, but it seemed my petrified look of open mouthed horror had answered for me.


It turns out that a few expected proverbial boats were supposed sail at this time of the month yet had failed to dock at port - during the recent week, when Yuni was not sure if they were going to make an appearance or not, she had considered the prospect of a possible mini-spo in the making - however, although a week late, ships are now fortunately sailing again - so there is no need for a ”down all tools and reorganise my whole life in general” shin-dig.


I assured her that IF any such thing should happen then we’d figure it out and I wouldn’t run away from my responsibilities.....


...as if I did she may come looking for me with her army of ninja children.

Spo | October 3, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia

September 30, 2005

Looking Cool…..

Whilst working in the Warner Cinema in Basingstoke I was assigned to the Ice-cream parlour with the ever-delightful Beverley. I was trying to chat her up while leaning on the freezer, doing none to bad a job in my opinion, when it suddenly came time to go on our breaks.

I went to follow her, but as I did, found that the palms of my hands had stuck to the inside freezer wall – you see I had been leaning back and holding myself steady with my hands in the freezer - and now I couldn’t get them off.

This proved embarrassing and painful for myself and humorously entertaining for both Beverley and customers as first I ripped one hand free giving me excruciating ice burns to the tips of my fingers, while for the other I had to get Beverley to pour hot water over it to get it free.

Looked like a right gibbon and consequently didn’t pull.

Spo | September 30, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK | Kaneheads Kompanion | Personal

September 29, 2005

And The Email Bear Said: “So we are going to Thailand for New Years, are you coming?………”

That would be a most ridiculous thing to do

Yes but are you going?

Well, I’m flying back from Indonesia in November for nowt, as it’s the company return ticket – and due to the fact this merry jamboree of debauchery wasn’t thought of earlier, I’d be paying the best part of a grand to go all the way back out to where I’ve just been, all for a couple of weeks over New Year – it does not financial sense make I tell you!

Yeah, yeah, yeah….money schmummy – you save for trips like these – that’s the point of saving - not future security, pensions, downpayments on houses and investments you don’t understand!

....and then there is the whole haven’t seen the family thing – a year gone and then I’m back for a month and then gone again

Family Schamily – it’s only for a couple of weeks and you can fly out on the 27th after putting in a Christmas performance!

....and work might not let me – they are down to the bare bones as it is and then I turn up and tell them I’m chipping off again

tell them you already booked it before they gave you the UK job.... it’s a golden opportunity to dictate when you want your holidays, rather than fitting around everyone else! if you ask they’ll say no! don’t ask!

.....and new years in UK won’t be so bad, will it?

Yes it will – it always is – remember last year? Drunken arguments with strangers, too wasted too early or not wasted enough too late, bad live music, over crowded pubs, waits for the bar that go on for hours, beer in plastic cups, trying to be in too many places with too many people and never really being anywhere with anyone properly, watching the girl kiss someone else...

....Every single year god damn it..

Yes! every single year you fuckgubbin!

....but wait! I’m going to Kuda Laut with the missus this weekend - it’s just like Phuket beach! I live in a place offering the same kind of delights as Thailand already!

Yeah but you don’t live like you’ll live during these two possibly blessed weeks of golden promise

...That’s true....

It will be a truly legendary

...That is also true...

Heroic dose’s of Samsong Whisky.... women in string bikini’s

...Oh Samsong! how I miss thee so....and women in string bikini’s is how nature intended I’m sure...

and you are on the cusp of getting into the rat race and will probably have far more responsibilities this time next year

..Yeah, on the cusp… well that’s the plan I guess....

you won’t ever really be in a better position to do the “disappear to Thailand and do Bangkok properly with all your friends at a New Years full moon Phuket debaucherised mayhem shindig” thing

..surely I will? Surely there will be a better time? When things are more organized? more settled? more sensible?

NO! – it will never be sensible, it will always be too expensive, it will always be tricky getting time off around Christmas, your family will always want you to spend the holidays with them, your friends won’t always be able to get together like this and you will have more responsibility a year from now – remember the whole being 28, get in a relationship, buy a house, go to the gym, try harder at career, stop drinking and gambling so much thing?

Yes you are right

I’m always right – you know why?

Why?

Because I am you and you just talked yourself into going to Thailand for New years

I did?

You did

Moses’ Goat Crikey!

I even booked the ticket for you while you were typing this

You did!?

Yes I did

By the Bells of St.Christopher! Right then! – lets take my Tyler-Durden-schizophrenic-monkey-ass to Thailand, get sun burnt drunk on Samsong watching women who might be men do shocking things in bars, get oil massages from Miss worlds, eat strange creatures and only sleep when unconscious after dancing on beaches all night!

Yes lets do that

Yes lets

Spo | September 29, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Personal

September 26, 2005

Films you may not of seen but should - Part 1

The Last Seduction

John Dahls 1994 darkly comic, hot-as-hell, noir twister has a stand out career performance from the eminently fuckable Linda Fiorentino as Bridget - the ultimate siren in black - she is the lady you always wanted, that never wanted you - a steel stiletto cold hard calculating bitch of note - if you can get her attention for 5 seconds then you feel that you must be playing a better tune than all the other musicians that tried their luck - and this fills you with misguided confidence and pride - and that is exactly how she wants you to feel - now she will turn the screw and get what she wants and you won’t even know there is a game going on.

Mike: I’m trying to figure out whether you’re a total fucking bitch or not.
Bridget: I am a total fucking bitch.

Who better to fall for it hook line and sinker than a good ol Mike - played by a truly believable slapworthy turn from Peter Berg as an over confident cowpoke who thinks life is exactly like those womens magazines preach when it comes to what a woman really wants. It is very entertaining watching this guy get completely fucked over unawares.

Bridget: You’re my designated fuck.
Mike: What if I don’t want to be?
Bridget: Then I’ll designate someone else.

Add to this a supremely seedy n’ snarling Bill Pullman playing quality more in line with his Daryl from Zero Effect than his embarrassing lets-pretend-to-be-patriotic-president from Independence day - also add the always welcome JT Walsh doing a decent impression of shitbag lawyer and mix together in a super schmooth crime tale that never lets you find the sign for the next stop - bring it all together and you have one hell of a fucking movie.

Frank Griffith: Did anyone check you for a heartbeat?

Overlayed by a sultry Jazz score, Dahls smooth direction drips cool - darkly lit, nothing flashy - lets the story and the characters soak it up - doesn’t treat you like a popcorn-munching-multi-screen-event-movie-numb-nut when it comes to explaining the plot, yet makes sure you have all the information.

Every time you sit in for a Dahl movie you are more or less guaranteed to be going somewhere worthwhile on the wrong side of the law - early films Kill me Again (with Val Kilmer when he was good) and Red Rock West (with Nic Cage when you could stand him) are also little masterpieces - while Rounders (with an excellent Ed Norton and a Team America style Matt Damon) is severely underrated and Joy Ride (aka Road Kill) is suitably enjoyable B-movie Hitcher/Duel style fare as well.

Berg was obviously paying attention to Dahl and went on to direct the over the top yet still refreshingly dark n’ nasty Very Bad Things and more recently the quality small town Billy Bob starring US football tale Friday Night Lights - he’s got talent and is one to watch for his next movie as a director.

Fiorentino makes the film though - she couldn’t be put up for an Oscar as the film aired on TV first - also maybe the Academy wouldn’t have the balls to give it to such a risqué performance - but she is truly worthy - she would of been up against Jessica Lange in ”Blue Sky” (who won), Jodie Foster in ”Nell”(!), Miranda Richardson in ”Tom and Viv”, Winona Ryder (!) in “Little Women” and Susan Sarandon in ”The Client” - if you watch any of those films and then tell me Fiorentino doesn’t do a better job by a country fucking mile then you need to stop taking crack.

She tried to carry on the manner of the role with the fairly awful Joe Eszterhas abomination Jade - a film that thought David Caruso was going to go from NYPD blue to superstar and added sex, guns, car chases and Basic Instinct style plot logic - it sucked the boils on the ass of the Devils Donkey.

Since then she appears every so often, but nothing touches her performance here - perhaps it’s because it may be too close to the real deal - she won her role in Men in Black during a poker game with director Barry Sonnefeld and Kevin Smith admitted to regretting hiring her for Dogma as he found her so difficult to work with.

Still, I’d like a shot at the title - I’d quite happily be her designated fuck any day of the week.

Spo | September 26, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Film / TV / Music | Kaneheads Kompanion | Personal

September 26, 2005

How to have a Salubrious Say Sorry Sunday…

Don’t worry – I know the way past the firewalls of female fury is not by bringing gifts of Steak dinners and tickets to Zombie films – I apologised in a much more refined manner suited to the English Gentleman I occasionally impersonate:

• First of all I did 1am pick up after she finished work on Saturday night and bought all her friends drinks as well as leaving a healthy tip for her collective co-workers
  
• Then I took her to Burgundy – live music in a smooth, classy little haven of sophistication at the Hyatt Hotel and we worked on a bottle of Absolut.
  
• Sunday morning I put in a sustained acrobatic bedroom performance that Ron Jeremy may call “heroic”, would make Mickey Rourke proud and lead the Great Ron Burgundy to exclaim ”Great Odins Raven! He’s taken her to pleasure town!”
  
• Then I took her for the Intercontinental champagne brunch, were we ate all we could and never turned down a top up
  
• After which I took her to the Lazy-Boy luxury cinema and watched the Wedding Crashers while moderately fuzzy and mildly wasted – consequently laughing louder and harder than anyone else in the theatre.

• example: Vince Vaughn’s Jeremy Grey: [speaking to the priest] “This girl’s fit for a strait-jacket. I mean she’s fucked three ways to the weekend. But you know what, Father? I dig it!”

• Dropped her at work afterwards – she admitted later on that she went and hid upstairs and got some sleep in the store room. I went home ordered pizza, necked a bottle of wine, watched Lords Of Dog Town on DVD (Emile Hirsch is going to be very, very famous soon) and toasted a job well done.

And that is how I really said sorry for getting drunk and falling asleep leaving her all dressed up and nowhere to go on Friday night - you people should have more faith in me.

Spo | September 26, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Personal

September 24, 2005

How To Say Sorry…..

Thursday the guy was bidding off on 54 Metric Tons of D3 teabag filler - the bureaucratical don’t-give-a-monkeys-if-I-sell-it-or-not government broker eventually came down to 2cts per kilo off my buyers price - ”no good, I’m finished” said my buyer.


Friday I informed the broker we were not increasing - talked the talk - explained the scenario - gave it an hour to simmer - broker came back - they relented - they accepted - Fanfuckingtastic.


So I emailed my buyer the confirmation - here’s your tea sir - at your price - waited for the congratulations and made up the contracts.


“But I said I was finished?”


Fuck it!


Had to call the broker back and say that we were withdrawing - made up a tale - lots of phone calls and nervous waiting as the whole department was playing football in the late afternoon - instead of selling tea.


In the end I got it fixed - they didn’t hold me to the deal - I made my apologies and went back and told my buyer I understood even though I didn’t - what difference can 12 hours when you are buying for stock? - apparently in the end it was the principle of saying ”Finished” - finished is finished.


So I was feeling burned and fiery at the days end - got back around 9pm and drank a bottle of wine and finished the JD off - passed out in the lazy boy chair in front of the TV watching Goodfellas - imagining sending Joe Pesci’s Tommy round to my buyers house....


“Finished is Finished?? Mother-Fucker!! I’ll tell you when it’s Fucking Finished! come here you prick...”


....before strangling him to within an inch of his life using the telephone cord while beating him over the head with the phone.


Then “Boom Goes The Dynamite”, I’m awake with my mobile ringing at 1.30 in the am - Yuni - damn it - we were supposed to go out when she finished up at the bar:


“Where are you smiley? you were picking me up 30 mins ago”


“Fuck! oh shit, baby, sorry I fell asleep - what time - oh fuck - sorry - look...”


“I’m waiting here after a long nights work....”


“Baby look, I got drunk and fell asleep”


“Good excuse!”


vClick! Brrrrr.....


So I’ll take her out today and say sorry


I’ll take her for a steak and go see Land of the Dead


Coz fine women love steak and zombie films....


right?


right?

Spo | September 24, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Personal

September 22, 2005

The All-Singing, All-Dancing Crap Of The World…

I should read the news more often

First thing in the morning It becomes a habit that I flick on BBC World and check the headlines and then jump in the shower, get myself together, grab brekkie, check email and then make a move to the office.

An important priority in life is the reduction of the amount of time between having to get up in the morning and then leave the abode for work, as this allows for more sleep

And I like sleep - it is one of my favorite big time pass times

So often I miss the in depth news - unless big bombs have gone off – I know I should pay more attention to world affairs but I read the sports, film, music and culture and let the world get on with itself for everything else - not that I never pay attention at all - just that I don’t see it as the focus of my day - stories never seem to change - In general here’s how I see things in no particular order:

Iraq – that’s a daily fuck up of megalomaniacal proportions and the world says “told you so” to no avail – but you’ve started, so finish – if you can – which you can’t – but you won’t admit it – so more of the same then – which is guerilla warfare and a logic you don’t understand – one that is more or less undetectable fighting to kick out any form of change against a bunch of people who really don’t want to be there and only turned up for the money.

Katrina – Bush, the state governor & mayor all caught with pants down looking at each other going “eh? What? Well…flooded?....erm yes Buses!… We’ll get back to you” and then some guy who ran a horse show gets the job and makes a huge mess of sorting things out while folk drown, go crazy and lose livelihoods – all of whom really wouldn’t have bloody suffered so much if someone in a big white house had acted with common sense a hell of a lot sooner – now they have to clear it all up while saying sorry, yet trying not to take any responsibility – all the while we make donations that probably get held up by the same bureaucracy that stopped the buses getting there in the first place.

Bush nearly killed himself eating a pretzel – he should not be running a country.

Oil – that it’s more expensive – yes, well there’s not much left – stop whining – global warming = solar power – see? Every acid rain cloud has skin cancer giving horizon.

North Korea – well they aren’t exactly campaigning for the peace, love and acceptance award and may very well be up to nuclear no-good behind that wicker curtain of theirs – but I’m sure someone’s watching over it all – someone that will stop them pressing the button in a pique of misguided rage – right? Oh…that’s what all the talking is about....

Well, as I’ve said before – the way to get what you want in Asia is to let who ever you are talking to think they are getting their way when really it’s you who’s winning – I doubt the Americans understand this however - after all America is the nation that has escalators leading to the entrances of fitness centres…..

I can’t stop thinking about Kim Jong-IL singing “I so rone-ree! just so rone-ree!” from Team America – this guy just needs someone to take him for a beer or two and show him a good time – as J-mo would say, ”go to the rippers” - Kim’s lonely, mad and angry and unfortunately seems to be in charge of a country…… In the end - Sniper anyone?

Mugabe in Zimbabwe – again, Sniper anyone? Oh – he doesn’t have any oil…

China – busy folk – lots of them – make cheap stuff – transforming nation – dodgy human rights - economic behemoth – but will they ever be any good at football? No.

Japan – suave grey haired little fella pulls a fast one over the postal service allowing more reforms – great – new and interesting sushi and yet more wacky cartoon porn on the way perhaps.

Germany – no one knows who’s in charge? Well I’m sure they’ll figure it out in the end and they don’t need my input – German efficiency comes a clutter – lo and behold - just as long as the Nazi’s don’t win again I’m happy for anyone to get the job – see you for the football next year.

Israel and Palestine – seems since the dawn of my time they have been arguing about this patch of land and throwing tear gas and suicide bombers about – now it looks like calming down with the Isreali pull out – will it last? Probably not – can you talk any sense to them after so much hatred has passed through the morbid mists of time? Probably not – convince them that blowing people up and shooting folk just won’t get the job done? Probably not - Solution? No! not a sniper! Mariokart! Winner takes all! Ghost Valley 1! Donkey Kong Vs Bowser! Start practicing! Fanatatical about Allah? Get fantatical about the greatest video game of all time and solve it that way!

Iran – angry bearded folk want to play chemist because everyone else is – fair enough – just let us have a look every once in a while.

Bloody Bird Flu – aha – this one is slightly closer to home – down the road in fact - as the source of the commotion, the local zoo in Jakarta, has been sealed off and 4 people are dead with 9 in treatment and a few more rumored. I tell you this – if there is one country you don’t want in charge of containing the spread of a nasty killer virus – it’s Indo-bloody-nesia – nobody has a couple of clues to rub together in this country.

Vietnam I wasn’t worried – those guys have got it locked – sure, a few folk died – but if it broke, I’d bet on the Viets to get it sorted out pretty quick – they get the job done in Vietnam - Indonesia however (to quote Hanh) “I wouldn’t trust as far as I can throw it away from me” – really, these people will fuck this up big time should someone cough in the wrong direction.

The problem in Asia (notably China, Vietnam, Cambodia, Indo) is they really love their Chicken (KFC is huge and McDonalds doesn’t know what a quarter-pounder is out here – they are all about the nuggets) – unfortunately they don’t know how to look after their poultry in a clean, sanitary, “cook it properly doofus and don’t feed them any old crap you find lying around” type of way – and everyman and his dog (if the dog hasn’t been eaten yet) can look after a few chickens to help provide for the family (eggs also very popular) – so they are everywhere – it’s not like you can contain them with a bit of fencing and start chopping off heads.

And the folk in the know –WHO? - pesky scientists, that’s who – when they aren’t mastering the art of buttered bread landing butter side up and throwing cats out of windows to see if they land on all fours – these guys are saying that this is going to turn into a nasty bastard of a cold anytime soon and anyone young, old and poor hasn’t got a cat in hells chance (although where that phrase comes from I don’t know – why a cat? Why not.. I don’t know… a donkey? a cat has got more chance in hell than a donkey, right?)

Anyways – there are 212million people in Indonesia – there are probably 12-14million people in Jakarta – the Gov says they have only 10,000 antidotes – there are probably 10,000 people or more working for the government (hmmm…) - meanwhile the other governments around the world are saying “so how much is this vaccine going to cost again? Ouch! that much!? Well….” – remember the scene in Fight Club when the narrator informs us that if the cost of a recall for unsafe vehicles is more than the probable cost of the lawsuit, then they don’t do one?

Narrator: A new car built by my company leaves somewhere traveling at 60 mph. The rear differential locks up. The car crashes and burns with everyone trapped inside. Now, should we initiate a recall?

Take the number of vehicles in the field, A, multiply by the probable rate of failure, B, multiply by the average out-of-court settlement, C. A times B times C equals X. If X is less than the cost of a recall, we don’t do one.
Buiness woman: Are there a lot of these kinds of accidents?

Narrator: You wouldn’t believe.
Buiness woman: Which car company do you work for?
Narrator: A major one.

Don’t fool yourself that this attitude doesn’t apply to Bird Flu – after all when the dust settles on the Kartina crisis you can bet someone looked at improving the levee’s there and came up with the same kind of thinking…. (% chance of it happening x % cost of likely death and destruction = greater than cost of levee’s and preventaive reconstruction for a city full of non republican voters?)

So that’s the news…and that’s the scenario coming in on a general every day basis right? Did I miss anything? Terrorism perhaps – well there’ll always be someone, somewhere, pissed off about something and they can all blow shit up if they look into it hard enough – just hope you aren’t around when they decide to do so (Jakarta seems to be on a permanant alert)

I look at all of the above and wish that Bill Hicks was still with us to comment on it – although if you listen to any of his diatribes against Bush Mark-1 they pretty much apply to the second cloned version to roll off the numb-nut production line.


Still, I miss Bill Hicks.

As he wisely once said “can you calm down on your rutting just for a couple of seconds until we’ve figured out this whole food air deal?” – he’s right - there’s too many of us fucking each other far too often - physically and metaphorically - and while everyone is chasing membership to the mile high club no one is flying the plane.

The above summarises are all pub logic rhetoric that really need more time and back up fact checking I guess (all linked via headers), but they pretty much summarise how I feel on matters and I don’t see how I can influence or change anything – I have more selfish closer to home issues to think about:

– like selling and buying tea - moving back to the UK - girl in Vietnam in the arranged marriage baby scenario - girl in Indonesia where things are getting too serious late in the day - girl in Uk that I’m going to have to have to be straight up about the way I feel - mad girl I have not seen since 18 but would like to again - wanting to go parachuting - the duck billed platypus - Halo 2 on nightmare level - getting round to reading all those books - New Years Eve - UK tax office trying to rob me - buying a house - buying a car - weddings - waiting for the Wire season 3 - gasping at how shit 24 season 4 is - enjoying my Lazy-boy chair - hoping Kylie Minogue is alright - finding new and interesting places to get drunk - finding new and interesting ways to get drunk - finding new and interesting ways to recover from hangovers - fighting off the effects of alcohol by paying for it running a lot and therefore hovering in the middle of not quite healthy yet not quite dying - wondering when Liverpool will win the premier league again - were did the dinosaurs go? - Monkeys - the mystery of women - the mystery of women and too many bags & shoes - never getting bored of Vanilla ice cream - especially when combined with women - regretting that England are probably not going to win the world cup and it’s too late to do anything about it - getting by with no ability at math what so ever - listening to the remixed Bloc Party & the desirable Feist & the acoustic Foo Fighters & the new Eels & the old Shins - a lot - new Zombie films - wanting to be Ron Burgundy - new things to put on pizza - being a bad driver and avoiding ever having to park properly - mastering the force when wasted - finding and drinking secret wine - developing my whisky ability - dance offs - writing till I run out of page - taking photo’s of the dawn till I run out of film - damn fine restaurants - remembering to talk to my family back home once in a while and most of all blogging.


You’re not your job. You’re not how much money you have in the bank. You’re not the car you drive. You’re not the contents of your wallet. You’re not your fucking khakis. You’re the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world - The Narrator - Fight Club

Yes I know I’ve got to try and be more than the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world and those concerns listed are somewhat superficial in places, but as I’ve explained – it seems like no one is flying the plane – you get so disillusioned by it all – dangerously apathetic – there’s people I respect and admire out there making the noise needed to fight what they can – but I won’t be marching with them as my brother did round London - in the end I focus on what you can influence rather than wasting time on battles that can’t even be fought, never mind won.

Show me the sign to the doorway that says I can make a difference to any of those situations mentioned and I’ll follow it if I believe in where it’s going to lead me – but I don’t think the sign will say polling station – I think it will say “Moon Emigration – this way” so until then I won’t be watching the news so much, I’ll be getting on with caring about the people closest to me, making good use of the time I have, trying to enjoy myself while on the planet and doing unto others as I’d want them to do to me - trying not to be an asshole - lord knows the world has enough of them.

Spo | September 22, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | News | Personal

September 20, 2005

Jakarta Dawns…

Spo | September 20, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Personal | Pictures

September 20, 2005

You say Tomato, I say Khoai Tay…….

When I worked in Nam my partner in crime was this little Dargon Ball Z Manga Ewok guy called Tri – we pretty much spent every working day in each others company and we didn’t end up killing each other by the time I left, so I’d say we’re pretty good friends – what we did in Vietnam with the business and everything was achieved 50/50 I’d say – I have a lot to thank him for.

So that it could become second nature, I tried to use Vietnamese that I picked up as often as possible. This didn’t help poor Tri who had to distinguish between when I was trying to be a clever foreigner making a mockery meal of his lingo and when I was actually talking English.

“Pass me the John Mayer CD”
“Which?”

“Mayer”
“three hour thirty minutes”
“No – Mayer is the name on the CD”

If you think about it objectively the English language sometimes makes no sense what so ever – for me it’s natural but how other members of the earth habiting jamboree manage to get by will never cease to confound me (many things confound me and this is one of them). I always remember Hanh asking about the rain:

Hanh: You see, if it is raining outside, I can say “look at the rain” – as “rain” refer to all – but if I talk about only one then it is “rain drop” – but I do not say it is “raindropping” – you see?

Me: Yes
So why?
Because that’s just the way it is
But WHY Stupid man?
I don’t know, ask Bruce Hornsby

That I am fluent in my own language but not proficient in understanding its structure is the problem - take the word “Last” for example – if you say “I came last” it means you finished at the end – if you say “I will visit the last week of June”, it refers to the future because of the use of the word “will” - if you say “don’t you remember? we went there last week” it means that of all the weeks that you could be referring to you mean the one that has just occurred because of the use of the word “went” rather than the last week of the month – still with me? OK? Now try explaining that to Tri who just thinks that “last” means “the end” which it does, but which end of what depends what comes with it I guess..... told you I’m not too good at explaining my own lingo.


Tri did his best to explain how Vietnamese worked in return – apparently it’s got seven different tones and it works same as a song – hit the right pitch and note and it all makes sense – these people must not have hangovers I suppose – so many times I’d say the same thing everyday and then the one day I’m feeling rough I get blank faces to the same sentence - if foreign folk mispronounce or mix up sentence structure with English I don’t stand there glum until they get it right - I at least make an effort to figure out what they are trying to say.

I could get by using the basics but as far as figuring out sentences went, I was lost – all our meetings pretty much needed Tri’s translation. With producers, asking “what day the shipment will be ready?” inspired five or ten minutes of nonsense, only for Tri to turn to me and say “Monday”, Why so much talk for such a simple answer I don’t know – either Tri was cutting out the unnecessary or he just didn’t know how to say the rest of it.

For business in Vietnam you had to learn very early on that if someone said “yes” it often meant “No” (they had answered too quickly but didn’t want to disappoint) - and more or less by the same rule, if they “can” do something it actually means only 50% - “maybe” means 80% (shows they are actually thinking about it) and only “sure” or “exactly” are 100%. Leading to many problems as I’m sure you can imagine – once you learn vital Vietnamese word for “100% exactly” you can start to see the light at the end of the tunnel called twaddle.

Out and about little things like replying to “how are you?” with “Not dead yet” inspire smiles and coming out with similar phrases helps you to assimilate and put folk at ease. Tri said that “Don’t tell girls they are good looking, tell them they look young” and this never failed to make any Vietnamese woman joyous in a “oh behave” kinda way - all of whom then enquire if I am thinking of getting married in Vietnam and try to set up a meeting with their daughter etc. which is one of the reasons Hanh always said “I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you away from me” – Vietmam was indeed a land of opportunity.

For the likes of Duong (Mr.Fix it in the pic) and Hanh, English seemed to be the same to them as their native tongue – well in so far as they understand the meaning if not the feeling at times. Tri, or Tricket (in honour of his deviousness and his likeness to Wicket from Jedi), had a few problems, usually depending on how fast his brain wanted to work that day. However, he didn’t say “yes” all the time like Bach and always asked “what you say?” if he didn’t understand – he did come out with this a lot though. Sometimes it could be very frustrating and if was in one of my more sadistic moods I’d start talking very fast in a deep Scottish brogue or Scouse drunken Irish - that really freaked him out.


(Whilst we were driving)
“This is Rut Rut”
“No, this is a roundabout”
“No, my teacher say that this is rut rut”
“Is he an English teacher”
“Yes”
“He’s from England?”
“No”

“Ah! Well, who do you think is right then?”
“maybe you”
“Believe me I’m right – it is called a roundabout – not a rut rut”
“what is rut rut?”
“Tri, I don’t think there is such thing as a rut rut, – you can say that you are “stuck in a rut” – as in a hole that you cannot get out of – a bit like this conversation”
“What is this - here (pointing) – the name?”
“This is called a cross roads”
“but....”
“before you ask – no, this does not mean that the road is angry.....”

Generally he was a mini legend – considering the amount of things just the two of us had to take care of, it was remarkable that nothing went severely pear shaped. He was very good at bargaining and he picked up the tea tasting side of things too.

We had an affinity in that when I was younger, I found ways to make extra cash outside of work – notably telling him the story of selling stolen toilet seats, grandfather clocks and golf clubs at Christmas in 1999 – he also had tales of the same, except more constructive – I was trying to earn money to get ruined at Brunel Rooms and stop the bank taking away my Switch card – meanwhile Tri was buying 2nd hand school books by the kilo, setting up an illegal small store on the outskirts of his College and then selling them on individually, based on how much the buyer needed the individual book - Devious and he wouldn’t have got through college without it - makes him a good trader nowadays.

His father was forced/unpolitely coerced to fight on behalf of the south by recruiters working on behalf of the Americans/South Vietnamese - when Saigon fell, his father and many like him had their rights stripped and were sent to re-eductaion camps - once they had completed their time there they were then only allowed to take jobs of certain social standing - Tri’s father became a farmer and the family struggled to make ends meet. Even now in Saigon you can find old guys on peddling tourist cyclo’s who used to be doctors lawyers etc before the war (so Tri says - most of the cyclo drivers I met there were pains in the arse who tried to take me the long way to where ever and sell me mari-jo/hookers).

Tri’s father had a motorcycle accident a few years ago and was left brain damaged - Nam’s roads are a bit lethal and the hospitals are full of bike accidents (50 or 100cc bikes = main mode of trasnport - no licence of course). Even so there is no social security here but friends and family all pitch in - Tri and his sister send half their wages home every month and his mother continues to work here and there while looking after the old man. Family is very strong in Vietnam (as I found to my regret with the whole Hanh Debacle) and the childrens lives are often mapped out for them before the game begins. Bach was 23 and his mother was still making pack lunches for him.

DISCO-BACH-WHERE?
“Bach, is the Queen Bee a discotheque?”
“yes”
“yes, it is a discotheque?”

“No, sorry – you want me to take where?”
“Take where?..... What?”
“I don’t know - you say you want me to go take but not tell me what you want me to take?”
“Ahhhhh......I mean nightclub - Disco – as in place for dancing and drinking – discotheque – not “this go take”
“Ah! Yes”
“so is it?”
“is what?”
“never mind......”

later…

“So Bach, what kind of music do you like?”

“I like Scorpion and erm.......Metallica”
“really!?!”
“Yes very much – very loud”
“anyone else?”
“Yes, Boyzone I like”
“Rigggghhhht........ok...that’s......unusual”
“Yes”

Tri did have a taste for deviousness as I’ve explained - this translated to his driving as well - and like Tuyens cab, Tri’s Honda motorcycle was also a piece of shit - he had no mirrors, fuel gauge or speedometer – in fact he had no indicators, so I had to remember to tell the rest of Hanoi by waving my arms about before he ploughed into a truck or bus etc. He also had a tendency to drive the wrong way into oncoming traffic and liked to jump red lights “if he thought he could make it” – like the jedi speeder bikes - remember what I said about the meaning of “can” in Vietnam?

“Tri, I don’t think you’re gonna make that”
“I can, don’t worry”
“CHRIST ON A BIKE!!!!!”

Another problem is that the use of the Horn in Hanoi is a constant sound needed to alert other riders that you are in their vicinity – Taxi Tuyen explained that when the Government imposed regulations stating that everyone needed Helmets, chaos ensued as no-one could hear the horns and for two weeks accidents went up like 50% - then they said nobody had to bother and they all went back to wearing caps and beeping (Hanoi was a noisy place to live)

Tri – predictably had a horn that sounded like a frog being stamped on – nothing like a horn and also a little embarrassing – so he didn’t like to use it - this meant close calls were very common – so much so that in the end I didn’t even bother getting excited when a truck nearly squashed us for the tenth time in a week – I put my life in the hands of the gods of Karma and trusted that this Ewok speaking manga numpty knew what he was doing.

Tri was from HCMC (Saigon), not Hanoi and therefore initially had as much idea of where he was going as I did – anyone who knows me will appreciate that my sense of direction could be described as somewhat lacking – I now have met my long lost brother and our family name turns out to be “wherethefeckamI”.

One time that sticks in the mind was when we needed to go to a particular market near the centre of the city (15mins away) that sold bags for putting samples in – Mr.T (head of company we shared an office with, not the A-team chap) drew us a map and off we went – without the bloody map.

1 hour later – after stopping to discuss
“Why you leave map at office Tri?”
“Why you leave map”
“Because I’m not riding the motorbike and I wasn’t given the map - you were”

“I think I can remember”
“well I don’t think you can otherwise we’d of been there by now – we’re probably nearly in Hai phong – I’ve never seen this part of Hanoi before”
“I think we go this way”
“wait - don’t you have the other map from Time Out magazine”
“Yes”
“well bloody read it then!”
“it at home – I did not want lose it”
“CHRIST ON A BIKE!”
“what it mean?”
“Its a way of communicating an extenuated form of surprise – as in a lot of surprise - more than normal - if you saw Christ you’d be surprised, if you saw him riding a bike you’d be even more surprised”

“what you say?”
“never mind – ask for directions”

How we managed to turn a 15min there and back journey into an hour and half is best answered by pointing to the fact that Tri was asking me for advice on which turning to take whilst driving too fast down one way streets in the wrong direction. I did get to see more of Hanoi though – the residential areas – no tree lined streets and perfectly laid tarmac, no flash fashion shops and posh restaurants - just dusty, bumpy roads and badly maintained buildings - folk everywhere eating noodles and selling everything you could imagine in densely populated markets that no doubt disappeared as soon as authority came a calling.

After this mini adventure into the unknown, one which led us to return to the office from the other end of the city meaning we had nearly completed a half circle of Hanoi, I tended to take taxi’s rather than trust Tri with getting me anywhere I needed to go that I hadn’t already been.

But although directions were not his strong point - in life I wouldn’t of got to were I am now without his help - he is indeed my ewok brother from another mother.

--------

Spo | September 20, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Vietnam

September 19, 2005

Some Jedi I turned out to be….

Never could tap my head and rub my belly - never could play the drums - didn’t get the Guitar - very, very good at Mario kart but this does not translate to driving in real life - can undo a bra strap with one hand while the other is on point - but that is an exception to the general rule that my hand eye co-ordination is not the best - ask separate hands separate tasks at the same time and it can go pear shaped.....

...so I had my socks in one hand and the ear cotton bud thingy in the other - and the cotton bud went in the washing basket and the socks in the toilet....

......doofus.

Spo | September 19, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia

September 17, 2005

Wasted….

When I was young, I thought that colour blind meant that you see everything in black and white… like dogs
Dogs see everything in black and white?

Yup, I think so
So they see the world in some sort of French new wave sixties cinema type of shenanigan?
I guess....
So......how do people find out they’re colour blind?
Well...... I suppose someone says “that’s red” and then the other person says “no.... it’s blue” and the first person says “dude, that’s red, you’re either really stoned.....or colour blind...”
No way – if you’re born colour blind then red is red… even though it’s blue

Eh?
Look.... someone teaches you the name for the colour..... so if you don’t know what red looks like..... then red is red..... even though it’s blue
Eh?
Look.... that there.... is a car, right?
.....right
And you know that coz I just told you.... right?
Well…..
...In the example that you didn’t know what a car was..... and I told you
Ok

So..... you don’t know what the colour red is called
Well ok - Uh uh.....
....and I tell you its red.... so that’s what you know
Ok
Even though you see it’s blue
What?
If you don’t know any different
But.... it’s blue?

Yeah, I know it’s fucking blue.... but the NAME is red to you
Look dude, blue is blue.... red is red.... that’s all I know
.....and if you were fucking colour blind from birth, it could be the opposite and you wouldn’t know any different.... OK?
Eh?

Spo | September 17, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Kaneheads Kompanion

September 16, 2005

Morning after check list…

Hmmm… wake at 930am - should be at work by now - bugger

Checklist:

• Memory - not great, but better than it has any right to be.
• Head of Death - check
• Vodka after taste - check
• No blood - check
• Wallet - check
• Money - nope - but on account of evenings travels - to be expected
• Credit Cards - check
• Receipts - check (god damn it!)
• Mobile - check - that’s good work - I’ve lost so many in my time
• Car and house keys - still in door - not good - but at least they are here (well how else would I have got in I guess - I’m 14 floors up - I doubt I would of climbed even though I am a bit of a monkey)
• Computer turned on - evidence of drunk blogging and slightly abusive email sending - hmmm - ok though as it was only my friend dibs and he is used to getting abuse from me
• Phone call/txt msg lists - one call to Umi (the girl) - text msg’s as well - bad spelling - but general gist is that we have had a good night and I am charming when wasted. Excellent.
• No evidence of declaring undying love for anyone - brilliant! (although later I found the post below this in drafts)
• General Time span estimate - diving out of awkward mind numbing shipping company cocktail party fiasco after only 40 mins (shake hands - smile - raid bar - do a runner) then have moved to Amsterdam bar Bugil’s - then have evidence of arriving at ”MyBar” (Umi’s place) at around 1030pm judging from reports - evidence of returning home at 3am according to blogger comment post. On a school night. Disgraceful. But not uncommon.
• Get sorted, take the lift down to basement, intend to drive car to work - aha
• Yes were is my car?
• Takes me a few minutes to remember I left it at the office and wasn’t actually driving - relief fills me up - having to explain I had “lost” my car and have no idea where it could be, might of gotten me sacked.
• Actually it would of gotten me sacked.
• Now memory of argument with mercenary taxi driver comes back to me - it sounded like when Dr.Jones and Short Round argue over cards in the Temple of Doom - ”You lie! you very bad man! you no use meter! no fun! me no pay! bad man! yes you! bad man!”
• Arrive at work and find a bid and matching offer that means we have sold a 20ft container of tea to Dubai.
• I vote work done for the day - and my vote is the only one that counts.
• Read news - Robots will soon be in our homes - really looking forward to this - I like robots.
• Make plans for lunch and hair of the dog at the pub called Mad Dog. (ps hair of the dog = antidote for hangover - which is basically more alcohol)
• Umi finishes work at 1am tonight - splendid - she can look after the items on the upcoming evenings checklist instead.
• Hanh comes on yahoo msgnr - she’s having a boy - Febuary next year - fuck.

Spo | September 16, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Personal

September 15, 2005

I’m postiamilyng coz I’m n ot here…..

(Note: I found this in the drafts folder when I woke up this morning - seriously drunk writing!)


i am not sure of anything but I don’t want you - my cybernetic superhighway family - to think bad of me - insumarte - I LOVE u all - A Milan Bjesus...... be jejesus..... i love carpet, i love lamp


rubbish post##


but i love u all tmw instead


yeah


right now


i feel so dead


that they woulda


need to


bury me twice


tmw will be back


damn it

Spo | September 15, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia

September 13, 2005

Late in the day….

She came right up to me – we’d apparently spoken before – served me maybe - but I’m always wasted by the time I reach this bar - I faked that I remembered and she saw through it – we were arguing and we just met – I liked her immensely – she had character and was far more attractive than any woman I had a right to be talking to – I smile all the time apparently – and my eyes are crystal blue – always drunk she says – but charmingly so…


...but still, straight off she’s got me fighting to convince her I’m different from the rest – she came to me right? but still she’s saying what if I am this, that, the other? – she seems to run the place and has seen too much – meanwhile I’ve seen too many doubles leading to a lack of willingness to pursue down such dark alleys:


look what can I say? Maybe you’ll be surprised, maybe you won’t – nothing I can do to prove either way right now


- her eyes don’t say mistrust they say contemplating –


so later I say: ok give me your number then, I’ll call you


no you won’t


well take my number and call me if you want


do you want me to?


would I of been talking with you for an hour if I didn’t?


I don’t think you want me to call


you’re so good with the future, you got any lottery advice?


now you are being sarcastic


hey, I’m just saying future isn’t set how you think - look take the number, call me tomorrow, I’ll come by I promise, but right now I gotta leave


you are drunk, you shouldn’t drive


I’m not driving, that’s why I gotta go, my lift will only wait so long, come with me if you want?


I’ll call you instead


glad we got that settled




That sounds like a typical conversation between man and woman the world over – along the lines of a time I remember Hanh wanted me to go to a wedding in Nam:


“I’ll go then”


“don’t”


“you just spent the last hour telling me I should”


“I don’t want you to come if you don’t want to go”


“I’ll come to make you happy”


“you want to come so I won’t be mad, that’s not the same”


“ok now I’m lost, do you want me to come or not? ”


“no”


“fine, I’ll stay here”


“you never do anything for me, you are all about yourself”


Man stands yet again perplexed by woman, wondering if there is any way you can get them to talk straight.


Anyways, Sunday she called late on in the afternoon – Cella had gone by then and I was thinking about more sleep, but I remembered the conversation from the night before and she had me hooked – I couldn’t remember what we talked about entirely, but if she was calling then what ever I’d said, I’d obviously not made myself out to be too much of a numb-nut.


I didn’t pay the bar bill


Aha


was that her reason for calling?? Apparently not…she knew I’d be back at some point and the manager wasn’t worried….. hmmmm…. said she did want to see me – said she had the run of the place….


I had to meet the Japanese at 10am the next day and with Sunday the day of rest and all, I intended to call in at the bar for only a few - restore my name from tab-jumper – I was only supposed to blow the bloody doors off but instead ignited the whole damn thing – I doubled my previous tab as I embarked on the trail of the Spo White Russians all night – she played a mean game of pool – she sang with the house band - we took advantage of the lack of senior management, only a few customers and also the privacy of elevators.


3am we slept – 6am we woke – 7am we slept – 830am I was getting up for work as Neh Neh (maid and surrogate mother) arrived – the girl donned my Vietnamese samurai silk cloak of wonder (I shit thee not) and swapped stories – Neh Neh liked her immensely as well – gave the seal of approval so to speak.


No sleep all day I wanted to call off the Monday evening planned – but that was exactly what she said I’d do – I was to prove that I was not a one thing hunter lacking respect as she said – yeah ok – I’ll be there – the drink, food, cinema, bar thing.


She’s late and I’m not feeling great – tempted to let the frustrated fur fly and hail a taxi – bit the lip and went book hunting instead – mulled it over – nothing to be gained from getting the gripe on – listen to her reason, hold off on the pantomime – I found the re-mix of Bloc Parties the Silent Album (my album of the year) and sat and read Chuck Palahniuk’s Haunted in the bookstore – 50 pages in, I’m hooked – class A writing - enjoyed her ironic lateness in the end.


When she arrived there were reasons and apologies – talk of family – cool n de gang – I was feeling easy going and tired and told myself don’t be an asshole about it and get on with the night – besides she looked even better than before and I told her as much – hair down with the thin rimmed rectangular glasses adding a Maggie Gyllenhaal secretarial touch – she told more tales of her life as we ripped the F-Bar band to pieces and I tried not to get caught admiring the singers fine form by accident (we men – it is instinct to look at fine art – but we honestly take it in with our eyes rather than unhook it from were it hangs, take it home to pin it to the bedroom wall – yet that never gets us out of jail when caught admiring) – night of drinks, food, the Skeleton Key in cinematic lazy boy luxury before back to mine.


I said goodbye to her this morning as I dropped her off on the way to work – she’s got lates 6 days now – sometimes till 1am, sometimes till 5am – Sundays & Mondays are the days – how many of those have I got left before October 27th?


She’s fluent in Japanese, German, Portuguese and English all of which she taught herself through the love of language and dedication – she speaks local dialect from all around Java island as a result of the places her parents grew up – her parents are divorced and she loves both fiercely – she also loves her 6 year old daughter just as strong – from a marriage that didn’t work when she was 19 – another near marriage with a German diplomat didn’t work either – but it took her to Hamburg and then Rio for a time – until Rio took him and he was not the same man.


At times she’s working 3 jobs – kindergarten teacher, Bahasa teacher and bar manager - she’s looking at a damn fine offer to go to an island off Thailand, run the restaurant and bar at Laguna Beach resort - but she’s worried about working away from her girl – she’s got strong political and social opinions on the rights and wrongs of this country and she screams in all the right places during horror movies – she’s 25 and she’s mighty fine and it’s not easy leaving her in the morning.


And I’ve got to meet her now rather than 9 months ago…. Knights of Colombus! fate & timing out of synch once again….

Spo | September 13, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Personal

September 9, 2005

Bed-side table lamps – Don’t knock ‘em

Yeah not on top form today - should’a been concerned with many things - but drifted through it all - court of fair enough thought of law would give me a pass I guess - heavy things on the mind - not so much after a couple of bottles of wine - thank god for spell check or this would be unreadable - suffice to say - I aint got much today.

5 current points of note:

1) There is a Japanese Karaoke Club shindig plan afoot for my return to UK - it shall involve a dance off - my five tunes will include the works of The Clash, They might be giants, the Bee-Jee’s, Bobby Darin and the legend that is Billy Ocean (although suggestions welcome)
2) The Wire is the best fucking TV I have seen in a very long time - HBO kicks Hollywood ass by a country fucking mile.
3) Rats like apples and will go to great lengths to get them.
4) David Beckham is the Metro-Sexual-Anti-Christ.
5) Graham Greene said “They say you can come to Vietnam and understand a lot in a few minutes.......the rest can take a lifetime” - he was bang on the money.

Spo | September 9, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia

September 8, 2005

No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No!!!!

I choked on my cornflakes as I saw the headline - Northern Ireland 1 England 0

Reports said that the first thing David Beckham asked for upon arrival at the team hotel before the game was a manicure - yes - a MANICURE! - he’s the England captain for Christ sake! - surely if there is one word in the English language that should not feature the word ”man” it should be “manicure".

It is even more disgraceful that he was our best player as we went down 1-0 to relative minnows across the pond - a bunch of overpaid, under educated, passionless super stars beaten by a team of journeymen from the UK lower divisions.

It is true that our attitude in UK is one of belief in the divine right to win everything even though our last taste of victory was 1966 and we always fail when it comes to the big occasion - there is always something or someone to blame, but if you look at the last 15 years we just have not been any way near good enough.

However, now we have a team of young players all at the top of their game domestically and if ever there was a time to come together it would be the 2006 World Cup. It’s all on the page looking good - times right - conditions are right - and as long as our best 11 walks out and plays were God intended then we are in with more than a shout.

BUT then those same players lose 1-0 to Northern Feckin Ireland! God Damn It!

Our plans are all set - gangs all going - we’ll pay what we have to and travel to see the games in Germany - win it or not - as long as we give it our all and get as far as we can - the experience will be legendary!


BUT then those same players lose 1-0 to Northern Feckin Ireland!

Now it’s two home games to go - have to win both - then we qualify for the big time

BUT then those same players lose 1-0 to Northern Feckin Ireland!

While the country and the media blames the tactically clueless, passionless yet thrifty with the ladies, Swedish manager Eriksson, I can’t help but look towards the actual players and their distinct apathetic appearance - these guys don’t seem to know what it feels like to really care about the game and lose it all - what ever they say, they sit on mega contracts and sponsorship deals and in the end it doesn’t hurt to lose like it should - like it does for us - like it used to when they were trying to make it at 16 perhaps - before the cash and the flash.

Problems? where to start? Fucking with the formations is not working - these players do well to put their boots on - anything more complicated than our strength of 4-4-2 confuses the hell out of them - Rooney is a retard who happens to know how to kick a ball - the only way to make him behave is to drop him when he acts like a brat - Rio is the most over-rated player to ever put pen to paper on a 100k a week deal - this is is a guy calling off-side when the rest of his defenders are 3 yards behind him - he is not good enough, Carragher, Terry and Sol are far better - it’s not just that Beckhams last passionate quality performance was vs Greece back in 2001, he has too much say and should be dropped for SWP on the right - in the end Beckhams effective position in the centre playing 4-5-1 means you can’t play a formation to suit Rooney’s most effectve position playing behind Owen - so Rooney, as arrogant and retarded as he can be, and 4-4-2, should win.

Also it’s not just that Lampard isn’t the same player for England as he is for Chelsea, he’s not even the same gender - Gerrad is either believeing his own hype and thinking he doesn’t have to do the work anymore or being counteracted by Lampard who is a similar player - that or the fact that these two players respective achievements are being overlooked by giving Beckham such a strong role - Owen hasn’t played first team football on a regular basis for a full season, he’s class but on a limited level and he’s not got his game yet - instead, why wasn’t Defoe used as he should of been? and who is Owen hargreaves sleeping with to get anywhere near the squad!?!  where is the upcoming talent Carrick?

They should’ve been mortified to lose 1-0 in such an important game to a team ranked more than 100 places below them in the world - instead they were probably checking their bank balance and their reflection.

The country has turned to the cricket for their passion - if the football players want them to come back and believe in them - then they better find theirs

Spo | September 8, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Daily Life - UK | News

September 6, 2005

Tea Fields of the Lord….

So I do occasionally go to the actual tea fields and get my hands dirty - it’s not all rock stars and limousines - in Vietnam going to the tea plantations and meeting with producers was more rewarding as the industry is not 100% government controlled - this means that sometimes you are talking to people who have a genuine vested interest in doing the best they can and money earned drifts down rather than siphoned off - they are actually as enthusiastic as you are about making good tea and finding a regular home to ship to - more difficult when the guy is only due two years in a ceremonial position and he gets paid whether they make good tea or not.

These pics are from one of the few Indonesian private gardens (80% is government controlled) - it’s about 1000-1500mt above sea level - huge expanses of green carpet with shading trees dotted around - guy running the show keeps rabbits and tells ghost stories - place is so peaceful - drifting clouds - clean air - lush surroundings - occasional earthquake - back to basics - beats the hell out of this confused, chaotic, corrupt, polluted, melting pot called Jakarta.

Spo | September 6, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Personal | Pictures

September 5, 2005

Sunday was Fucking Legendary

My posts can act as a diary for myself to look back on and remember times gone by - therefore this post is a rather selfish one purely for that reason alone - let myself always remember this Sunday just gone - let myself never forget September the 5th.


First off apologies were made for my Thursday black out and Robin and I headed off Champagne brunch at the Intercontinental - as much food as you can eat and a constant supply of Champagne for $20 - and the food is top class from a buffet including sushi, seafood, Bar-B-Q grill.... on and on - best way to start your day basically.


Then I used my slightly wasted charm to blagg a replacement I-pod from the Apple store - they were reluctant at first (I didn’t tell them what happened to it of course) but in the end they agreed to give me a new one on the spot rather than sending for repairs - very surprising - I was expecting that If they didn’t suss it was bust due to being dropped in a pint of water, they would still hit me with the usual customer service bureaucracy and it would take ages to fix - but I blagged it - I think it was due to the champagne grin - Splendid.

Then after drinking in the pool all afternoon while listening to the new Eels album (it’s fuckng class I tell you!) we watched Sling Blade - a truly captivating movie, stunningly played - came from nowhere - doesn’t sound like a winner (Bill Bob plays a retarded guy who befreinds a kid and his mother) - but I was gobsmacked by its genius in the end.


Credits roll and I headed over for pub grub bangers and mash before ending up in Bugils - an Amsterdam style bar for foreign folk looking for an escape from Jakarta. Here was a bar that needed a firecracker or two - quiet atmosphere and a broken stereo didn’t bode well - but after a bit more vodka than normal, the bar maid getting a guitar on, a fucking top man from Scotland who bought everyone drinks, some drunken Belgian/English guy who was a double of one of my friends back home and could write stuff so that it only looked right in the mirror (not essential to the evening but amazes drunk people) and me running around singing Del Amitri’s ”nothing ever happens” at the top of my voice - the place livened up - everyone was suddenly on top form - I love it when bars suddenly get a vibe out of nowhere and everyone gets their great game on.


We ended up in CJ’s nightclub - one of the better quality bars in town - we met the always lovely Cella and her two friends and they helped destroy a bottle of Baileys with me back at the apartment..... it gets wild and hazy after that - but I’m still a bit drunk and I’ve not slept yet - and I’m feeling good - tired and wild eyed I guess - but yeah, feeling good - September the 5th will now always be a day of celebration - I’m going to toast it forever more.


3 is a fucking charm I tell you! a fucking charm!

Spo | September 5, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Personal

September 3, 2005

Blackout…

As so often is the case my drunken hazy version of events differs from what actually happened somewhat - crux of it is that I can be handful when truly intoxicated - my fuel apparently was not solely whisky based - an empty vodka bottle was found at the scene - an attempt to make the Spo White Russian was also evident due to spillage (3 shots of vodka, 1 shot of Baileys and ice & milk if room).

My memory still has not returned and I have a good 12 hours missing from my databank - during that 12 hours I seem to have gone on a rant about more or less everything, blazing row, driven home (!), trousers in the kitchen, shoes in the bath, turned heating up instead of down, managed to end up with I-pod in a glass of water. What.The.Fuck?

From the evidence of my apartment I must of been actively doing various things when I got back - none of them coherent (there is evidence of attempted cooking as well) - but no memory of it all.

Scary.

I told Anna of events and she quite rightly scalded me for such foolish endeavours:

* Drinking a bottle of whisky will turn you into a ranting fool, not to mention possibly kill you through alcohol poisoning

* Driving in this state is v. v. bad indeed – I would be seriously pissed off if you did yourself any damage

* You always break or lose things when you’re drunk

* Most things are best left unsaid, even when steaming

* Just remember soon we’ll have the trip to devon and your proper friends in a proper country

As ever, she is on the money.

I don’t think on the whole that I drink too much - this was a one off - it got out of hand - a blackout evening - but then I look through my posts and Whisky does play a regular part - and the other day (Wednesday) I drove home from the gym and considered turning around and going back to the supermarket as I remembered I didn’t have any whisky at home - I quickly realised that is not a good way to be thinking however and carried on.

I suppose the thing that worries me the most is how out of control things get - I would like to describe myself as one of the more decent and straight thinking people on the planet - I’m very far away from being a saint and a genius - but I’m not in bed with the devil or retarded either - yet I do very stupid things under the influence of far more than I should of drunk (an obvious statement too true to many in the world I know) - it’s like if I sit down and start a bottle the logical end to the evening is that it is empty.

The whole time I’m imagining myself akin to Homer in that episode when he gets wasted at the Flanders party - his memory is of him sipping a Martini, regaling the crowds with witty insightful anecdotes and observations like Winston Churchill - when what actually happened was he stared down Maude’s top, drooled a lot, danced like a fool, irritated everyone (apart from good ol Barney) and then passed out.

I suppose I haven’t been as truly wasted as I was on Thursday night since the time I crashed the car - and after that happened I calmed down a lot - looking through the posts I can see a trend however - Whisky does make a number of appearances. I don’t think it is a problem - it would be a problem if I had actually turned around to go back and buy some whisky for a simple wednesday night at home - but I didn’t.

I’m thinking there are big flashing signs to show you might have a drinking problem - you spend all your money on booze, you wake up and drink, you think about the next time you can have a drink all the time, you see everything else in your life fall apart and you look like Nicolas Cage.

But back in my younger days when I had a more than casual interest in Colombian marching powder, it needed Anna to take me to one side and point out how my personality had changed and how fucked up things were getting - and then I calmed down and after a while realised she was completely right - I was being an asshole and I never noticed.

I don’t think it is hard for me to break a vice like habit - I stopped drinking beer and smoking cigarettes without any hassle recently - I stopped smoking marijuana as I didn’t enjoy it anymore - I stopped doing coke as it fucked me up health wise and turned me into a shithead (although I do really really like it) - however actually spotting things are becoming a problem has never been my forte’ - it usually is someone else that points it out.

So Thursday night may have been a one off - but if it happens again anytime soon then I hope I see a big flashing sign telling me to sort myself out when I wake up - because after talking to Robin and seeing the evidence I realise Thursday was a bit of a blackout - not just from memory but from the person who I’d like to believe I am.

Spo | September 3, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia

September 2, 2005

God Damn It……

I woke at 2pm today - felt terrible - looked around - I was at home - how did that happen? - should never of driven - promised I wouldn’t ever do that again no matter if it was a lot or a couple - but it was exceptional circumstances - I had to leave

I think I drank the majority of a bottle of Jameson’s whisky at Robins (my friend, but also my boss) - he was talking up front and frank about myself, my time here and my future - I said some fairly strong things - some home fucking truths - whisky gave me courage - but I was still right - he isn’t the best teacher and this country sucks on so many levels and perhaps that is why I didn’t put the effort into staying here and jumped at the first opportunity of a transfer - I don’t believe in anything I’m doing here.

it was a pretty severe argument in the early hours

I don’t know what our friendship will be like now - sad that - something’s are better left unsaid perhaps - but honesty is important in friendships too - shit - I feel bad that it happened - I’ve slept all day - man whisky fucks you the fuck up after the crime

and then I found I’d dropped my new 60GB I-pod in a pint of water and now it doesn’t work.

Spo | September 2, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia

September 1, 2005

They should make them like that again…

Late last night Raiders of the Lost Ark was on - I was going to flick on thinking that I had it pretty much committed to memory if I ever wanted to watch it again - but you gotta stick around for that opening sequence - spiders on the back, sandbag switch, grab the monkey trophy and sprint past the arrows, jump the hole, dive under the door, grab the hat - see Alfred Molina get his spikey comeuppance - then that HUGE ball of stone chases him out the tunnel before legging it from the Indians and jumping on the plane flying off to the familiar tune.

Classic.

Can’t switch over after that - you’re there for the whole film - one of the best ever made - Harrison Ford’s gotta be proud playing two of cinema’s greatest characters - and he does a bang up job - no one else could be Indiana Jones.

Apparently Tom Selleck turned down the role before Ford got it - all I can say is thank fuck almighty for that - Magnum was passable smug Saturday afternoon TV but Jesus Christ just think of what a shitty movie Raiders might of been with Tom Selleck - Damn it would of sucked - only thing worse would of been if David Hasselhoff had got the job.

Spo | September 1, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Film / TV / Music

August 30, 2005

True Faith In The Rush…

Dan’s post on Football Violence got me thinking – shame the sport is associated with such practices and although I can see the primeval reasoning for the tribal clashes, like Dan I can’t agree with or condone such actions due to the spiraling effects these clashes have for others caught up in it and the name of football in general – bunch of guys want to meet up and knock the seven shades out of each other – some would say “if that’s what gets them high and they are all consenting to the practice, duking it out in the middle of nowhere – fight club right?” – the argument against being ultimately they are doing it in everyone elses backyard and they need to be protected from themselves if that’s their drug of choice – they take so much down with them chasing their adrenaline Fight club hit - that discussion is over at Not the New Scientist – but it got my mind leading elsewhere…

….then this weekend I watched War Photographer about 2 years in the life of James Nachtwey , a celebrated award winning photographer (some say the greatest ever in his field) and someone you should definitely check out via the link and tracking down the documentary if you can – startling real life images grab your attention and take you right into the heart of the situation – I watched and knew this guy was an artist and that his pictures highlight situations to try and bring the world in on such matters – to be our eyes in the storm – but my thoughts on the rush began to gather momentum – that this guy was so reserved, laid back, aloof and detached in real life, yet when he was taking pictures he got as close as possible – right there alongside – and it seemed he changed into a different person then – he says he channels the emotion of what he sees into his work – truly tremendous work – that’s how he deals with it – that’s why he gets so close – to fully suck it in.

“I have been a witness, and these pictures are
my testimony. The events I have recorded should
not be forgotten and must not be repeated.”
-James Nachtwey-

One of the interviewees says of the man “the time you feel closest to death is the time you have felt well and truly alive” – now this guy is by no means simply a rush junkie – there’s obviously more to what he does than the guy base jumping off the Eiffel tower - but when it flows through you like water from a broken dam – dry eyes wide – mouth open – heart halting – the Holy Fuck moment – pure experiencing – that must be at least part of what drives him to take a step closer when all others take a step back.

That we need to be near to the edge to feel like this – that you have to risk something of equal measure to attain this level of rush in return – you have to put it all on the roulette wheel bet on black or red and let it spin – idiotic to risk so much to feel like this? adrenaline junkies? Or in fact searching for a much needed wake up call? To go through life never having touched that place? To know what the human body is capable of? To never know how high you can go?

(Click for lyrics)

The other week I was running and listening to Paul Van Dyk, going with the music, this wave of euphoria hit me, it worked its way from the back of my head, as though someone had put a hot towel over me just after coming in from the ice cold - take that feeling and multiply it by a 1000 – that’s too vague perhaps – difficult to describe – New Order said it better - I feel so extraordinary - like something’s got a hold of me - I get this feeling I’m in motion - a sudden sense of liberty – they call it joggers high, but Holy Fuck, to be this strong I thought I was recalling the stratospheric times of drug fueled wonder from the past – a sensory flashback – back on the terrace of the Plymouth Warehouse on Union street or enveloped by the smoke screen of the Brunel Rooms, looking down from the Opera House balcony – I wouldn’t say feeling like a million dollars – as I don’t think money buys this sensation – it can buy the items that create the sensation – but the feeling its self is priceless - I kept running – faster and faster – my heart rate hit 190 – then I started to come down – in many ways – that kind of rush – that adrenaline hit – achieved this time without the chemical encouragement – unless as I say, it was a total recall – not possible without the sensory memories of the past – but still the body created that feeling again….

Maybe it was a total recall from the Homelands drugged up Bungee – idiot boy am I, pills make pupils dilate, I feel fucking great but coulda busted my heart rate – but that day I said – I don’t care coz I’m not there - I don’t care if I’m here tomorrow - again and again I’ve taken too much - of the things that cost you too much - feeling good enough I wanted to see if it could get better – ecstasy + bungee = award of Holy Fuck Me! – I haven’t smiled so much for so long ever since. These days simply going on the London Eye freaks me out to be honest. These days not so stupid perhaps… well the car thing was stupid…

Other times I recall feeling flight like this – Pirate Galleon - Chessington world of adventures - aged 13 – sitting at the back – the HUGE ship went vertical – holds its position - I was lifted from my seat – mid air – bar wasn’t tight enough – I felt myself falling forwards for a second – then the boat swung forward and the seat collected me again – but that second I was in the air – staring at the vertical drop – Holy Fuck - that was terrifying yet my senses tingle thinking about it even now – (that’s got to be a hell of a way to go by the way – fall out – vertical drop – hit the concrete pit below – then as you raise what’s left of you, the boat swings down, grinds you into the floor and flings what’s left into the wide blue yonder – Death by Pirate Galleon – name a worse way to go and I’ll give thee kudos – I still won’t go on those rides again to this day)

Barnes, Kirsty and I sitting in a field waiting our turn – smoke the good smoke – then comes the call – 5pm last flight - two days of basic training we were about to be flung out a plane at 3000ft while a wire attached would pull the cord – they said all you gotta do is fall, direct yourself to the drop site and try not to fuck up the landing – yeah and what about the bit were you tell yourself this makes sense as you hang in the open doorway as the engine noise roars, the wind howls and below there are wheat fields that look like knee patches and villages that look like lego? That bit – right there – that Holy Fuck moment – when you jump and let go – your body and your brain is telling you it makes no sense damn it – but you do it anyway – those 4 seconds of tumbling freefall before the shoot opens were indeed a rush – but I think it was the first second looking down and letting go I always remember.

The chances are - we’ve gone to far - you took my time and you took my money -
Now i feel you’ve left me standing - in a world that is so demanding

In Hanoi on the back of Tri’s motorcycle sans helmut – piece of shit bike with no indicators, wing mirrors, petrol gauge or speedometer – he pulls out round the bus in front as we turn left out the box junction into the two lane one way strip - but here comes the truck from the right pouring into the same lane at speed – I felt the kick of the gears as I looked back at the trucks engine gauge gathering force - must of made it by inches – horns blared the bus braked hard we pulled infront and the truck broke past us – people pointed stared wide eyed – giddy laughter – Beechawaawaa - pull over you damn dirty Ewok – I need to take the breath that was nearly stolen - Holy Fuck.

My morning sun is drug that brings me near - to a child I lost replaced by fear - Jumping off the Death slide at Typhoon Lagoon aged 14 – impress the Cali girl in the Bikini – foolish boy – Ok, jump and don’t look down – too late - those initial seconds were special Holy fuck moments – as you catch some air, just falling before the slide and water takes you again - I spent the rest of the day with the attendants voice ringing in my ears “what ever you do, don’t uncross your legs” I certainly regretted not following that advice but I didn’t regret jumping.

The time after Brunel’s, Dibs and I drove up the road from mine to Anna’s at 3am – flying on something foreign to the body – but it’s a short drive – pulled the blind corner without stopping at the top of the hill – green van missed us by inches – lights, horns, tires – then nothing - what are the chances – middle of nowhere – 3am – but still – Holy Fuck.

Same with the car crash – both of them actually (just remembered the other one in UK) - boom goes the dynamite – tree’s and bushes flash up in view and then are sucked under the wheels – what the fuck? Where’s the road gone? Girls screaming - walls approaching - seems like we’re watching this on the big screen windscreen - then we’re back on the flat – Holy Fuck we’re ok – silence – then laughter – can’t think when I’ve said fuck so much in such a short space of time

And it seems strange that every time after these moments I came away grinning like the Cheshire Cat won the lottery, a bag of coke and a weekend at the playboy mansion.

And it seems that every time my last words on this earth would’ve been “HOLY FUCK”

I used to think that the day would never come - that my life would depend on the morning sun

I don’t think like that anymore – but I don’t fully regret the times I did - behind so much of what goes on in life there are people chasing that feeling of extraordinary liberty – trying to recapture the child of pure rush, now replaced by fear in a world so demanding - whether they know it or not - running towards that Morning sun which can destroy them - then jumping into the shade at the last moment, before everything burns to cinder.

Spo | August 30, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK | Kaneheads Kompanion | Personal

August 29, 2005

Where have all the half Monkeys gone?….

Mari-Jo made me muse upon the thought of if we all evolved from monkeys you must have had various monkeys all co-existing with each other while at various stages of the evolutionary scale – monkeys, half monkeys and good ol’ Neanderthal man, so where pray tell have all the half monkeys gone? – so instead of sitting there just wondering about it I decided to go and look it up and here is a brief selection of what I discovered:

• 98.4% of our genes are the same as the chimpanzee
• Chimpanzees can use sign language for terms as abstract as “like” and “different”.
• Imagine a human chain where a girl stands with her left hand holding the right hand of her mother, who in turn is holding the right hand of her mother with her left and so on and so on. In order for the chain to reach the chimpanzee it would only need to go on for an astoundingly short 300 miles. (which is short when you think of millions of years etc)
• It has been recently revealed that female monkeys have affairs with males from other monkey tribes and keep it a secret from members of her own group.

So azz you can c, zee chimpanzee iz perhaps ze half monkey missing link I woz musing about. Bet they have been nipping off and rolling joints for years while the documentary makers haven’t been looking – swinging in trees, lying in the sun, having lots of sex and eating bananas. Splendid. Makes you wonder who evolved from who when you read that.

(click the Gun toting Glock Monkey for more nature with Spo)

Spo | August 29, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Kaneheads Kompanion | News | Ojeni

August 22, 2005

More Hazards of being a Tea Taster….

DO NOT underestimate

the hateful terrorising powers

of Sour Milk.

Spo | August 22, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Kaneheads Kompanion

August 21, 2005

Soothing Hangover Music….

This morning I sat outside drinking water like I’d just discovered it - trying to take away the heavy mind that Johnny Black had left me with - I found solace in a fine feline called Feist, whose name is the best word to make Dutch people say and whose album is called Let it Die - I picked it up after catching a brief random review in the Jakarta Post t’other day.



This siren’s voice is phonic chocolate - she sounds like the girl every guy wants to sleep with - reading up it turns out she was in a Canadian indie band called Broken Social Scene and she appeared on ”the Build up” and ”Know how” from Kings of Convenience’s Riot on an empty street - here we get her breathless vocal front and centre - no trimmings - pure smooth and soothing - backed up by simple piano and acoustic guitar, with snapping fingers, a hint of synth and some handclaps.



I love it when you listen to music and every track plays as a soundtrack to images and stories you unconsciously conjure. For example When I was a young girl is the song to listen to as you lazily swing the girl of your dreams around with one hand and drink Tequila from the bottle with the other - Mushaboom is fine foot tapping tom-foolery that should one day accompany a Wes Anderson movie montage moment, there may be no better way to start your day than listening to this - The Gate Keepers got you stoned walking through wheat fields - Let it die has to be a last song in a smoke filled dimly lit Jazz club, blue spotlight on a siren at the end of the night - One Evenings got a Joni Mitchell 70’s funky thing going on, the aftermath to a lazy heist maybe - Lovers Spirit is getting drunk watching the rain knowing you’ve fucked up - Leisure Suite takes the sultry mantle from Michelle Pieffer sliding around on that piano in Fabulous Baker Boys..... it’s all good and furthermore I’ve not heard anything like it for a very long time.



There’s even cover of the Bee Gees’ ”Inside And Out” which she gives a seriously shuffling funky dance off styling to.



It took a little while to grow on me - guess the mood has to be right - and that mood came around swinging in a hammock with a hangover - this voice was all I needed to hear - took away the Johnny Walker Black Haze - replaced it with sonic fruits - stupendously scrumptious sonic fruits.

Spo | August 21, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Film / TV / Music

August 19, 2005

To Have Caught Him Doin It….

Lance: Still got your Malibu?
Vincent: Aw, man. You know what some fucker did the other day?
Lance: What?
Vincent: Fucking keyed it.
Lance: Oh, man, that’s fucked up.
Vincent: Tell me about it. I had it in storage for three years, it was out for five days and some dickless piece of shit fucked with it.

Lance: They should be fucking killed. No trial, no jury, straight to execution.
Vincent: Boy, I wish I could’ve caught him doing it. I’d have given anything to catch that asshole doing it. It’d been worth him doing it just so I could’ve caught him doing it.
Lance: What a fucker!
Vincent: What’s more chickenshit than fucking with a man’s automobile? I mean, don’t fuck with another man’s vehicle.
Lance: You don’t do it.
Vincent: It’s just against the rules.

We went for lunch at Citos and I parked in my usual fashion - that is to drive straight into a zone without the need for any parallel or reverse malarkey - I have gotten this far in life without being able to park so I may aswell continue - life is simpler this way.

Upon returning the alarm key failed to flash - the car was already open - seems as though I’d left it unlocked - my fault for always walking away and pretending to be a gun fighter - sometimes you miss when you think you shot the guy - you’re not that good, punkass - then Robin noticed the sports bag was gone - fuck it - I was going to get a haircut and go the gym after work - brought the bag - normally I’d go home first pick up my gear and then go - but I look like a scarecrow and it all worked out so well time wise - feckity feck feckaloona-feckass feckstein - congratulations you fuckwit.

First off reaction is that this is the karmatic punishment for being a doofus and thinking you are Jesse James with a key alarm (sometimes I do the gun shot sound effects - I am Jacks childish ambition) - leave your car unlocked, this is what happens fucko - gotta buy new shirt, shorts, socks, shoes - ah..... the I-pod - cuntbubble - in the end that burns due to the cost but not the love - the music is important and that sits safe on the laptop - these things can be grudgingly replaced - congratulations on the score - you didn’t steal it, I let you take it......

.....but then later on I can’t find my apartment keys - fucktabulous - fine, I’ll sit around for the replacements and there is no link to where I live meaning a change of locks - but those keys had my god damned real-scorpion-in-amber-Jurassic-park-style-key-ring-attached - I found it in some freaky Hanoi street stall - it scares children - its a Mean Motor Schooler Scorpion Frozen In Time God Damn It.....

......and then I realise my dark blue loafing T-shirt was in there - cost next to nothing - seems millions of years old - made by no one famous - but my most treasured shirt by far - in that I am Dark Blue Golden - now gone forever - the places that shirt and I have been....

......and then to stick the knife in - I look for my baseball cap to pen in the scarecrow effect - my baseball cap with the picture of a bull dog on the front - like Spike out of Tom and Jerry - except a more bad ass version - a Veitnam veteran Spike perhaps - a Spike who will break a few eggs to make an omelette - and its one of the few baseball caps I’ve encountered in life that actually fits on my stupidly shaped melon head - unlike the average cap it doesn’t make me look like king of the super doofus people - it was in the bag - now to be seen adorning some light fingered Indonesian opportunistic fiend.... oh how now the blood boils.....

....Boy, I wish I could’ve caught him doing it....

....I’d have given anything to catch that asshole doing it....

It’d been worth him doing it just so I could’ve caught him doing it

I swear if I see some skanky assed Indonesian motherfucker wearing a Liverpool shirt, Bulldog baseball cap, black trainers, carrying an airwalk bag while listening to a bashed up I-pod playing Manu Chau’s ‘the bongo tune’

I’m gonna find myself a blowtorch and get medieval on his ass.

Spo | August 19, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Kaneheads Kompanion | Personal

August 18, 2005

Genius in the Simplicity……

Wil E Coyote - his genius was never rewarded

While meloncollyfloweredupinadubdaze sitting on hill at Creamfields in 1998, Mari-Jo made me ask why someone hasn’t invented a device that acts like the P.K.E meter out of Ghostbusters or the motion tracker from Aliens that allows you to find your friends at music festivals.


It would be so simple - each of your clan carries a little device in thier pocket which sends a unique signal to your tracker and you follow the little dots until you are reunited.

Maybe it could be intergrated with mobile phones in some way and work independent of the service reception which is never good at these things - even if you do get a connection and they hear the phone ringing in the first place conversations with people at such events generally consist of ”what? I can’t hear you?” “I’m over here!” “what” “by the speaker” “eh?”.

So easy to get lost at those things even when you are sober of mind - wandering wasted you’ve got no hope of seeing anyone again unless chance is kind....


I read in the sunday times a guy called Charles Melcher invented the beach book - pages that are immune to water, sand, suntan lotion - 750,000 copies sold - best sellers about to be issued in such a format - he’s moving onto water resistant diving manuals and grease proof cooking books - genius in the simplicity - but obvious for all this time - and in the article the guy didn’t come across as being one of histories greatest thinkers - just a lucky son of a bitch that dropped his book in the pool one day and thought to himself ”that sucks” ”someone should do something about that” - then suddenly - Boom goes the dynamite! - you’re a millionaire on easy street.


Genius in the simplicity.....

Spo | August 18, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Film / TV / Music | Kaneheads Kompanion | News | Ojeni

August 17, 2005

I’ve always wanted to do that…..

Yesterday I drove home via the toll road - rain was kicking down and break lights were abounding - I skipped the first exit as it’s always a nightmare to get out of there - the next one is a 1km or two along - but as soon as I went past the first, traffic came to a halt - three lanes solid - not moving - this could take a while - I sat for five minutes or so - nothing moved - Fuck it


All that time in UK getting stuck heading on the M3 or M25 going to London - all that time thinking would they catch me if I just busted down the hard shoulder for a mile? camera’s, police, drivers with mobiles pissed off you are breaking the law - no can’t be done in UK - wait in line - it will pass eventually....


Here it had to be done though - I’ve seen traffic like this here before - it could be anything from 30mins to an hour for this short stretch depending on the fuck up ahead.


Fuck it.


As I took the lead disciples followed - full beams fixed to show we’re coming - reams of solid static traffic looking on - I’m going home - cleared it to my exit under a minute.


Damn it felt good. 

Spo | August 17, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia

August 17, 2005

Now that’s what I call Tea Trading….Somalia

(this is a tea grind I got really sucked into writing - long but it gets there in the end)

I went to the weekly auction yesterday - quiet markets and the main buyer took 50% of offerings as usual - I marked my prices - got my quantities when required - shook some hands and sorted some private company business here and there between catalogues.

Time slipped by, midday rolled around then it was back to the office to do the reporting - traffic was a complete bitch as usual - you don’t want to watch but you can’t take your eyes off it - I wasn’t driving - but you see things happen ahead and worry that the driver, Hendro, hasn’t registered the same - far too ancient cars pulling out of nowhere, vicious undercutting death buses, stuntmen wannabe motorbikes trying to make the gap and always the little men pulling along food carts or just piles of unwanted crap holding up traffic going up a hill - we get back in the end - not so much pressure on speed - with the time difference to most of the places begging for the auction results, they’re just starting work by the time we get back anyway.

That’s a quality thing about working in Asia - quiet mornings - the people wanting to buy what we are selling are all in bed when I start work - Russia is brewing around 11ish, just before lunch the Middle East and Pakistan are buzzing, just after lunch Europe comes online and our office in Toronto works while we sleep - you get a head start to take the day in - drink your tea - surf the net - read the news - send friends some emails - do a bit of blogging - mess about with the fantasy league football team - Hanh usually comes on yahoo for a bit:

Hanh: you said you would send CD’s and Harry Potter by the 15th

Me: what day is it?

Hanh: 15th! stupid man - always forget dates - why can you not remember?

Me: I just figure if it is important enough someone will remind me

Hanh: I am reminding you

Me: yeah thanks - but I don’t think I have enough time to honour my promise now its actually the 15th

Hanh: you cannot tell time either

Me: I’ve always said that digital clocks were evolution, I don’t know why they aren’t the standard

Hanh: lazy man

Me: that’s rich coming from the incredible sleeping woman

Hanh: rich? means wealth?

Me: Too early for lingo exchange… maybe later

Hanh: Drunk man last night again

Me: guilty

Then the tasting of a few batches (40 cups of tea at a time), make a few blends (mix samples in proportion to actual stocks), chase some freight rates (selling C+F making 3-4cts per kilo means best freight rates and accurate packing are very important), argue with producers about price and then for buyers we make up excuses - or rather elaborate lies - to explain why things haven’t happened as they should - so often the case working in such countries as this:

The bags didn’t arrive because no one got the fax as the producers machine is broken and no one noticed = we were not satisfied with the quality of the packing so ordered it to be redone with better material to ensure no damage occurred to your tea during shipment.

The rates changed and the guy quoting the original won’t take responsibility for his verbal agreement so we have to delay while finding the original price elsewhere = we decided to go with another shipper as we saw the original container had holes in the roof - we have now found a more reliable shipper but the better quality comes at a different price - we will bear this cost and apologise for the delay.

The truck was delayed because the driver got drunk, slept in the next day and the prostitute stole his wallet so he had to go and find her to get it back so then the container missed the connecting vessel = Truck crashed - I wasn’t driving damn it - these things happen - live with it - it’s only tea.

In Vietnam I was working on my own as far as my company went - get the job done and expand the business - make some money while doing it - set things up basically.

This allowed for a lot of elaborate bending of the truth when you are the only one that really knows the situation - it was very entertaining if stressful work at times - we would sell a certain standard and then the producer would either try and change the contract, sell elsewhere at a higher price or simply fail to deliver what was agreed - we’d already made promises to our buyer that we had things under control - they have schedules in place - so we would just go out and find something similar from another producer and ship that instead, telling them it was the same producer they agreed on.

You’d think they’d notice a different company on the doc’s but Vietnamese names are absoloute goobledigook when it comes down to it - they tend to blend into each other unless you pay attention.

Of course you couldn’t always get the replacement tea at the same price as the original producer was selling - market changes, sellers sense when you are in a fix and they can squeeze a few cents per kilo more, plus you may’ve just struck lucky the first time out and found a guy who didn’t realise the quality of what he had - so he sold at too cheap a price - this is where the trading side really kicks in and can be a rush when working in countries that don’t really have access to info on markets elsewhere in the world - of course when your little secret goldmine collapses and they fail to deliver you’re a bit fucked after agreeing a price with your buyer already - so you do juggling deals with the new replacement guy.

Tri and I loved Juggling deals - its when the replacement producer agrees to sell you the std at the price of the guy that bailed beforehand, but you have to then sign contracts for quantities of other grades at higher than market prices to make up for the loss he is taking on the std you really need. Problem is that you haven’t sold these other grades yet - so then the chase starts to get rid of this extra quantity you’ve committed to but at least you’ve rescued the first deal as now the invoice reads right:

For example - we buy 24000kgs of a std from Ha Hoa Ngyuen @49cts per kilo- they realise they can sell for higher at time of delivery so sell to another buyer - our buyer wants their delivery @49cts - we buy similar std to replace from anothe producer called Thai Bach Trung but their price is @55cts - we agree to buy two more conatiners at higher prices than market from them if Thai Bach Trung reduces price from 55cts to 49cts - we ship the replacement @49cts and buyer is none the wiser - we then have to sell two containers of tea we haven’t actually sold yet before anyone finds out.

(we would predominantly sell to our own offices who would pay against the invoice from the producer direct - we didn’t have an official office in Vietnam - we had a partnership with another commodity trading rep office - in fact if anyone was to ask why I was there it was due to studying purposes as I wasn’t on the books of the rep office we worked with - I was an undercover tea trader)

Working on your own you jump around on hot coals juggling all these different missions and tangling yourself up in a web of lies - then boom goes the dynamite - you catch a break and find a sucker who pays too much for the grades you aren’t supposed to be carrying and the stressful seas are calm once again.

Whole time the people back in the head office don’t know any of this is happening - as far as they are concerned you shipped the original standard and then later on sold some more tea - little idea that at one time or another they were actually committed to all this unsold tea at inflated prices that came around because we got fucked by some little guy who promised the moon and gave us cheese - so we had to beg elsewhere and the man who helped us had conditions of rescue.

But this pales into comparison to tea trading in Somalia.

Somalia has always fascinated me since reading Black Hawk Down by Mark Bowden - a book that grabbed me by the throat from the first page and proceeded to drag me through to its finish while my eyes bulged, my heart raced and I gasped for breath - it was a rush reading that book - they did their best to catch it on film, but it the book still paper-cuts like a literary ninja who has a much sharper blade than the average movie bear.

A lawless country with no government run by warlords and no intl banking system - but people still do business - they still drink tea - and they don’t grow it - so someone’s gotta sell it to them. God damn it. (for the movie poster soundbite)

After the auction I talked with another trader about the business they do in that forgotten part of the world - he works for a company that sells teabags and loose leaf blended and packed in Sri Lanka and then sold throughout the Middle East and Africa - His company does business with Somali entrepreneurs who live on the sharp edge of trading and operate for 2-3 month periods, make a bundle of cash and then move onto something else. They buy Indonesian fluff and ship to Africa.

The Somali tea market more or less is based around the cheap, light, easy to transport fluff and fibre that is a by-product of the actual tea making malarky - if you look at the veins of a tea leaf then once processed that comes out as fibre - and this can be extracted and sold. The two advantages of this type of tea are that:

1) It is very easy to carry - once purchased at the markets pp/pe bags containing 30kgs can be carted off on donkeys or on folks walking back to their villages (the average sack of black tea contains 60kgs and sells for triple the price)

2) Due to the absorbing nature of the fluff it goes a long way when brewed - like if you had a tea filled sponge and gave it a squeeze every time you needed a cup.

Of course Fibre is also cheaper than main grade tea and therefore very popular in the local markets of tea producing countries like Indonesia, India and countries in Southern and Eastern parts of Africa whose populations generally don’t have two coins to rub together. This means despite being cheap there isn’t an abundance of availability (I do like that word “abundance")

So this means Somali traders duck and dive around the globe doing their best to get quantity and push deals to conclusion - usually doing it via the back door - meaning that who ever deals with them won’t just get a great sales record for their company, they may very well end up with surprise new car on the sly.

Also doing business is hassle free apart from the money issue - quality of product and packing is not a problem - they are just pleasesd to see something drinkable turn up - also there is no complicated documentation or testing process to undergo - just ship it (my mantra in Vietnam).

To do business internationally the Somali traders have to accept 100% bank transfers before shipment (or, after a while, 30% and then the rest to get the documents of ownership) - but of course its not like you can go to your local HSBC branch in Somalia - there aren’t any international banks - so Somali traders have to make CASH deposits at a recognised bank in neighbouring Djibouti - and then the teas will be shipped to the port city of the same name and transported into Somalia.

But of course for the trader to get the cash to the bank across the border and then the tea back from the port to home, they are going to need some serious back up to make sure they make it in one piece - back up with big fuck off guns rather than simple harsh language and disconcerting stares - the kind of money being carried would see you right in Africa for a califragafuckinglistically long time - so the traders hire themselves armed security and make the journey to the border and back - the average 40ft HC container of Indonesian Fluff would probably cost somewhere in the region of $15-18000 - and if you are going to go through all this you don’t buy just one container - so chances are these guys are taking a fairly hazardous journey in a permanant nervous disposition - especially if they are coming from Mogadishu, the ramshackle dangerfuelled capital which is about 2000km from Djibouti.

When I was in Malawi I ended up trucking to the port of Beira in the Mozambique adventure - Lewis, the truck driver, would not travel at night in case of robbers hiding in the bushes at the bottom of hills who would then jumping on the struggling truck as it made its way up the slope - they would be after the documents of ownership for the container on board. Can only imagine what goes on in Somalia when word gets about a man with a suitcase of $50,000 is on his way to the border.

In the city of Mombassa, Kenya, these Somali traders make the journey and turn up in tea traders offices with suitcases full of cash to make the deals for documents of ownership of teas arrived at port - like something out of a Mafia movie, the guards come with them - except there’s no cocaine or knocked off fur coats being bought - just tea - plain old tea.

The best part for these guys must be the buzz at the end of it - the truck arrives home - sacks of tea distributed to local sellers - money will be counted in good time - but that exhale of breath - all the travel to foreign countries, set the deals up, the orgainising of the cash, the security, the journey to the border, the bank desposit, the clearing of doc’s and then trucking the tea back along the same trail - getting to the end and knowing you are a lot richer and nothing went wrong - and you did it with no safety net at all - no laws, no insurance, no police, no customs - all your own gig.

What a rush that’s gotta be.

Somalia profile

Somalia time line

BBC world: Holidays in the danger zone

Spo | August 17, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Ojeni | Personal

August 15, 2005

The Hazards of being a Tea Taster….

Steam - subtle - but wily and dangerous....

Spo | August 15, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Kaneheads Kompanion

August 14, 2005

Do Not Mix….

-

It was a long time ago

But I'm finally ready to admit

I may have over reacted

So I got this T-shirt made

-

Yours Sincerely

Spo

Spo | August 14, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Film / TV / Music | Kaneheads Kompanion | Ojeni | Personal

August 13, 2005

Genius Movie Quote Malarky….

In the same way that Barnes asked for a band name at 5am - should he of asked for a the best movie quote in the existance of cinema I would of said:

Max Fischer: I like your nurse’s uniform, guy.

Dr. Peter Flynn: These are O.R. scrubs.

Max Fischer: O. R. they?

More Rushmore quotes

Spo | August 13, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Film / TV / Music | Kaneheads Kompanion

August 12, 2005

Unconscious wisdom….

Yesterday afternoon I had a vague flashback of getting text messages in the middle of the night (my friends in UK never really get that I am 6 hours ahead of them - that or they simply don’t care and like waking me up) - I checked my phone and found the following:


Barnes: 535am - how about this for a name of a band? The Commentator
Spo: 536am - ill Gotten Gains
Barnes: 540am - What! For a band name? Perfect!
Spo: 548am - yes - now sleep


Later I told Barnes that ”The Commentator” sounds like a communist newspaper and also reminds me of the Communards - neither of which are a good thing to be associated with when naming a band I feel. I say go with my instantaneous dream world derived reaction of ”Ill Gotten Gains” - sounds a bit like a bad assed outlaw or a serial killer I guess, but it is quite enjoyable to say.


Like Cellar Door.


Or Confucius Crocodile.


Other suggestions welcome.

Spo | August 12, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Film / TV / Music | Kaneheads Kompanion

August 10, 2005

And what drink would you like with your meal sir?….

This was from the actual snake restaurant

we went to end of last year

I’ve got some fairly gruesome video clips of the whole cutting out the still beating heart and drinking it thing - but they are on my nokia phone and I’m not sure how to host on the site - plus the MB size would be difficult to upload using this shitty Indo dial up I have.

Plus I have made the ladies in the audience feel sick enough I think (so don’t keep scrolling if this is the case)

Below is from the kicthens - they skin the snakes which are still thrashing around - don’t know what the deal is with snakes but even when they cut the hearts out they still keep on going for a bit.

Freaky reptile little bastards.

Once the skinning and killing is done they chop and grind the whole thing and your meal consists of pure snake - cooked, boiled, grilled and any other cooking type euphemism you can think of. They even go as far as to make a whisky using the snakes… erm.... apendages - as shown by Tri below:

The words I think you are looking for are:

“No Fucking Way!”

The Answer is:

“Yes Way!”

Snakes are Scrumptious

spread the word

Spo | August 10, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Vietnam | Kaneheads Kompanion | Personal | Pictures

August 9, 2005

True none the less….

Back at work again I find myself falling asleep all over the place - how this is possible after a week spent more or less in bed could be confusing to some, but the answer is you don’t sleep when you are ill - you just step into the mind of a crazy person for a while - seriously, remembering some of the more inspired mind fucks masquerading as dreams while under the more severe effects of the virus, they were a chaotic cacophony of nonsensical gibberish that actually seem like a controlled thought process.


I’d awake gasping for air like I’d been held under water for too long and realise that I’ve just been to the place insane people spend their time 24/7 - this can be quite exhausting dragged out over the period of three or four days when the virus was at its strongest, so now I need proper sleep - I’ve got all the energy of an 83 year old mouse with lung cancer at the moment.


Luckily I was able to stock up on some decent sleeping tablets and also enjoy the freaky fruits of some of the hospitals pain killers during my hiatus last week. That’s the thing about these expat clinic’s - they are there to cure you but they are also there to make money at the same time - so all the cool pharmaceutical drugs of choice are there for the taking while you are fucked up and charging to insurance.


The nurses were babes of the highest order - and not just because of the uniform - but hospitals are not the places you are really looking your best, they are hardly likely to come away swooning saying things like ”the pasty faced pale English man with a virus throwing up bile and whacked out on painkillers talking codshit is really hot - I’m going to ask for his number”


When I left the clinic I was still high on the painkillers, I staggered out telling the doctor how wonderful she was and how all the nurses deserve a pay raise and were truly the most beautiful women in Indonesia.


I probably wouldn’t of said all that if it weren’t for the painkillers, but it was still true none the less....

Spo | August 9, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia

August 4, 2005

Storms Subsiding…..

This was in Nam last year when we were up north in Yen Bai coming back from the tea plantations. The mother of all rainstorms kicked off, we took shelter under the tree’s to wait it out, listen to the roar and watch the bombardment. Then, as suddenly as it had started, it stopped - the menacing dark clouds went their separate ways, the light from the heavens poured through and then the serene tranquillity resumed.Mr.Noodle started the engine and we drove on home.


Sort of how I’m hoping things are going to go from now until Saturday after getting back from the hospital.

Tropical Bacterial Virus’s suck even more than the movie Cursed.....

.....and I really do fucking hate that movie with an unbridled passion, so do not say such things lightly.

Spo | August 4, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Vietnam | Pictures

August 2, 2005

Do not underestimate the powers of the dark side….

Last night was horrific - yesterday was a false dawn indeed - the virus came back with all guns blazing and now I'm heading to the expat clinic - get a specialist on the case - but not Martin Kove Cobra Sensei from the Glass Trap though - he'd just use some DDT and chomp a cigar or two.
Anyways - back in a day or two I hope
muchos Gracias for the well wishes so far amigo's and juanita's.......

Spo | August 2, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia

July 31, 2005

Far From Golden….

Bad things:

1. Every minute I try to sleep I feel like I’m gone for a hundred years, yet when I wake and look at the clock only minutes have been won....
2. I’m out of paracetamol and pain killers - I’m down to those in-descript tablets that are always left in the cabinet and could be anything....
3. My sheets are drenched in sweat yet my teeth are trying to play a tune through the medium of chatter....
4. My dreams are seriously fucked up and I seem to be waking up tired instead of refreshed....
5. One of my dreams had that kid from Kindergarten cop going ”it might be a tumour” and me replying in an Ahhhnold voice “No its not a Tumour!”....
6. One of my dreams was about something to do with cheese and things made out of cheese - which I usually dream about when I am a bit fucked up health wise - so therefore I know its not just a mild cold.....
7. Touching my skin feels like putting my hand in a bucket of ice cold water - freezing yet still burning at the same time....
8. Put your finger under your ear, dead centre - drag it down about 3 or 4 centimetres - just were your jaw finishes - yes there - that bit - feels like a punchbag - what the fuck is that about? can’t move my head around very much....
9. yesterday I was not quite praying to the porcelain god - now I am a recent disciple....
10. Food is just not happening....
11. This happens on a weekend! what a wonderful sense of humour life has sometimes…
12. Vodka and horror movies are also not helping....

Good things:

1. If this is a tropical disease moving in Stages, then we are on stage 3 after 3 days....
2. Though of course I don’t know how many stages there are....
3. I’ve lost 1 kilo....
4. This can’t be chicken flu as I have not been near any chickens....
5. I’ve watched the end of OZ season 4 and have learned that if you go to jail Nazi’s will fuck you in the ass, drug dealers will steal your shoes and the guards will beat the crap out of you for the sheer hell of it - Prison sucks.....
6. Water feels like the nectar of the gods when drunk - like Toast, water is severely underrated
7. I’m pretty sure this is the revenge of the gods of Karma for laughing at the joke about the Blow up Sex Doll and the Muslim Faith - If the Gods are reading I’d like to apologise and protest that I didn’t write the damn thing - someone emailed it to me - the punishment does not fit the crime damn it! - and no, I’m not telling you who mailed it to me - I’m no rat.... I’ve seen what happens to them in OZ…
8. ....Alright it was Ben.....
9. I probably don’t have to go to work tomorrow and will go to the super dooper expat expensive clinic first thing and put it all on insurance.....
10. If I have to go to hospital like that time I got a virus in Mombassa then hospitals are usually pretty decent places to loaf for a bit - cable, three meals a day to your bed, nurses to prop you up instead of actually sitting up...... I might get to go on a drip - drips are cool - it’s drinking without the effort....
11. Visits to the bathroom are not yet reminding me of the movie title “A River Runs Through It” (sorry if that is too much information hehehe)....
12. I still have a sense of humour (although as you see with the gods of karma that might be what got me into this)....

Spo | July 31, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Personal

July 29, 2005

Bring me Saturday…

Strom Brewing - Tea Brewing - See?

I was going to write some sort of Friday catacombs of the mind type thing, as my posts this week have been on a variety of subjects apart from the actual thoughts running through my head - but last night I got back at 1am and cooked - and drunken cooking sometimes can be a foolhardy act - so now I’m not very well - there’s a fuzzy fog of the mind and my stomach feels like a monkey bath - I’m not praying to that great white porcelain God exactly - but I’m far from Golden - after a restless night I still tried to do a decent days work - but bailed at 3pm to return to the palace of loaf to load up on pills, drink water and finish the ”Jack is fucking legend” thing which I’ve been meaning to get done since I re-watched One flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest a couple of weekends ago - anyways.... I will attack the page and go to war with the word tomorrow instead - bring me Saturday - bless your cotton toes of goodness Saturday - good night.....

Spo | July 29, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Pictures

July 29, 2005

Greatest Picture ever?….

Far too Cool for Skool

Spo | July 29, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Film / TV / Music | Kaneheads Kompanion | Ojeni

July 28, 2005

Legend….

From High Concept:

“Nicholson, Newman recalled, would come straight from the set to Evan’s house, stay high all night and then go straight back to Warner Bros the following morning”

(This is after three of them had hired hookers and stayed up all night doing drugs)

“Nothing is as funny as seeing Jack do lines, Watching him put the bill or straw up to his nose and snort always reminds me of the scene in the Shining where he breaks through the door
and says “Here’s Johnny!”

Due to a deal linked to a % of the films receipts, Jack Nicholson ended up being paid $60 million for appearing in Batman. $10 million more than the entire movie actually cost to make.

He was off his face the whole time.

“My mother never saw the irony in calling me a son-of-a-bitch.”

--

Jack Nicholson

Spo | July 28, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Film / TV / Music | Kaneheads Kompanion

July 27, 2005

News Flash….

Whisky is Sneaky

Spo | July 27, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Kaneheads Kompanion | News | Ojeni

July 26, 2005

Pesky Scientists….

Shit! that wasn’t supposed to happen!

We went by the Duty free alcoholic mecca whse, showed our passports and picked up a fine collection of mind embellishing liquors - we then went to see our DVD girls at Ratu Plaza and were greeted by ever ready charming smiles, cleavage and an influx of dollar a disc quality new arrivals - West Wing season 5, The Shield Season 3, Lost, CSI New York and 24 season 4 to name but a few - Indonesian TV, bar the exceptions of ESPN, HBO and BBC, could be described as somewhat lacking if I was being kind - but I’m not - if I’m being honest I’d say it sucks giant hairy bobbing man ass - therefore you have to make your own schedules.


Back at my Robins house the night eased into a pleasant haze of barbecues, wine & whisky, shooting the humidity with conversation, good company and the movie Crash - an LA set short cuts style bubbling racial tension tale following the likes of Matt Dillon, Don Cheadle, Sandra Bullock & Thandie Newton - pretty cool film - if a little heavy on the coincidences of characters coming across one another to move the story along - general gist is that folk should try to take a step back before succumbing to attitudes fuelled by racial stereotypes - and also those that feel persecuted in this manner should stop dropping back into the stereotype whenever they feel the world is against them - it doesn’t get too preachy though and most of the characters are believable. Solid cut above movie making.


But Movies don’t always have to be that way for me - here’s one that caught my eye at the DVD place - Glass Trap - Giant Ants attack (post to come below this) - I’m a sucker for monster movies - I loved the Deep Blue sea and FrankenFish for example - it’s always those pesky scientists - Goodness Gracious how they love to meddle with nature and then take it too far in the name of doing the greater good - I always imagine them informing the generals at HQ that yet another experiment with a dangerous creature has gone awry - take the deep blue sea for example:



Sir = R Lee Emery - the sarge from Full Metal Jacket

Dooley = Floyd - Brad Pitts character from True Romance who sits on a couch smoking bowls all film.


Hi Sir


Dooley, I hear that you might have something to tell me - good news by any chance?


(Dooley looks at the floor and shuffles his shoes) erm not exactly sir…


Aha - what a surprise - it’s always the same with you isn’t it Dooley? - one thing after another - Rollerblading Giraffes on amphetamines to make them out run poachers, Hippo’s needing false teeth reacting badly to the laughing gas, 100 Monkeys and type writers and too much whisky.....what is it now?


Well sir… you know that 10 million dollars you gave me?


Yeah - when I asked what it was for you said ”it’s a surprise” laughed and ran away - that was 7 months ago - do I now have to prepare myself to be surprised in a ”hey, it’s all my family here to celebrate my 50th birthday” kinda way, or in a ”shit you just made a crocodile with two heads and it ate the chief of police” kinda way?


Erm.... the latter sir.....

SHIT! God damn it Dooley! what’ve you gone and done now?!


Sharks sir....


Oh Sweet Jesus Mary Mother of God!!!!


Erm.... secret underwater base in the middle of the pacific…


Dooley, this is sounding like I am gonna have to rip you a new one.


What the fuck was it now? buttered bread landing butter side up?


Alzheimer’s...


Alzheimer’s! for fucks sake Dooley! Sharks don’t get Alzheimer’s!


I know sir - but we thought if we made the sharks brains big enough, we could give them Alzheimer’s and then cure it…


So what in Gods name happened?!


They got really clever, started swimming backwards really fucking fast, teaming up on people, doing detective work and grew a shit load more teeth....


Jesus Mary St Joseph Dooley! - anything else!?


They can open doors


What! are you shitting me here son?


No! they really can...it’s so cool!


Dooley, I’m going to get my nuts fucked on this one and if that happens, guess what you’ll be going swimming with, you sorry sack of shit…


I’m sorry sir - we had the best of intentions - we just wanted to cure Alzheimer’s sir.


Dooley, why oh why won’t you stick to lab rats like everybody else??!


I know, I know.... I just want to have a little excitement around while I’m pushing the boundaries of science....


Pushing the boundaries of science!....I’m going to push my foot up your god damned ass if you don’t sort this out son.


No, no, no - don’t worry the sharks blew up - LL Cool J killed them - and all the evidence sank to the bottom of the ocean.


Is LL Cool J in the loop on this? he better be shutting the fuck up about it all - I don’t want to turn on MTV and have that motherfucker singing about crazy assed killer super sharks and him busting a cap in their ass - you hear me son!?


No, no, It’s ok - LL is golden - he’s not about the violence - he just knocked those motherfuckers out like his momma told him to.



Ok then Dooley - but I want this shit storm locked down - no leaks you here me? I got enough problems with snake head fish down in Louisiana, some radioactive goo and then a bunch of swamp dwellers without heads.


Was that Jameson’s work sir?


Yeah....little fucknut was trying to cure cancer again......

Spo | July 26, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Film / TV / Music | Kaneheads Kompanion | Ojeni | Personal

July 26, 2005

The Glass Trap - Monster Movies are not always cool….

The Glass Trap - the story of how a cleaner and a bitchy magazine execs assistant meet and fall in love (well, agree to go for coffee) set against the backdrop of an invasion of angry giant radio active ants. Really.

”Starring” C.Thomas Howell former member of the 80’s brat pack and films such as the Outsiders, Soul man, the Hitcher, Red Dawn and erm… The Hitcher 2? he also married and divorced Rae Dawn Chong who I always thought has a really cool name.

Directed by Fred Olson Ray who also brought the world Bikini a Go Go, The Bikini Escort Company, Genie in a String Bikini, Bikini Airways, Bikini Hoe-Down, Bikini Drive-In, Scream Queen Hot Tub Party, and the classic Hollywood Chainsaw Hookers - tag line ”they charge an arm and a leg”. One suspects after watching the Glass trap, that the names of these films are about as enjoyable as they get.

In 1998 Fred tried a change of direction and made Dear Santa - remarkably it didn’t meet with fame and success so he went back to making things like 13 Erotic Ghosts - it was for the best.

Movie went as follows:

1 min - Starts with garden nursery worker Miguel looking mildly confused by on rushing camera and chopstick clicking noises - cut to blood spattered on leaf - I’m not sure but I think Miguel might be dead. Shame - he turns out to be the most likeable character in this monkey bath of a movie.

2 min - After a remarkably professional looking beginning sequence considering the shit that follows - we meet our hero and heroine - C Thomas Howell plays the kind hearted ex-con cleaner in a large office building (the glass trap) - some babe half his age plays a secretary type person called Sharon working for a bitchy magazine exec - bitchy lady throws cigarette on floor - Sharon looks over at our forlorn looking hero and then down at the smouldering cigarette - ”I’m sorry” she says and leans down to pick it up - ”no! no! that’s ok” protests our hero - ”no I’ll get it” - ”no, no, no I’ll get it” he says and crouches down to headbutt the squatting heroine in the worst two people going for the same thing and accidentally headbutting each other scene in the existence of cinema.

3 mins - ”I’m sorry, are you ok?” he says helping her up as she laughs apologetically (or at the script) - she places cigarette in his hand - they look at each other with very loving eyes - bitchy lady summons her to the opening lift - girl looks back for fleeting loving glance over the shoulder style

C Thomas Howell looks smug - if we could read his characters mind he would be thinking :

“ah! the old crouching headbutt trick - never fails - I truly am one smooth fucker“

Sharon the babe gets in the lift and as doors close, looks at our hero with wry smile and yet more loving eyes - this is despite the fact that from that angle she couldn’t possibly see him.

8 mins - planty tree like things arrive from garden nursery on a trolley about the size of the average one you’d find in a supermarket - there are supposed to be hundreds of giant ants hidden in here.

9 mins - FBI Agent from the ministry of Agriculture (?!?) arrives at the nursery - apparently there is some illegally imported fauna in the area (shit!) - she’s here to investigate - if investigating can be called looking confused, stating the obvious and having no effect on proceedings in any way what so ever for the entire fucking movie.

10 mins - FBI woman sees dead body of Miguel and faints. Worst fainting ever in a movie. It’s almost as though she got down on her hands and knees and rolled over going ”ohhhhh”

22 mins - Random man hits our C Thomas Howell over the head with a duck carving. he then says ”guess you should of ducked”. This man seems to have done this for no reason.

23 mins - A giant Ant breaks through the floor (or rather a stage hand pushes it through a hole) - it looks like a blackcurrant balloon animal and is about the size of a small child. Sharon is not impressed.

36 mins - “random duck wielding man” gets stuck in a lift and then attacked by one of the blackcurrant inflatables - he attacks it with the mightiest of weapons - a ball point pen - he proceeds to roll around and throw himself about while the ant makes no movements what so ever - off camera people seem to be making squeaking noises. It’s almost as bad as when Schwarzenegger fought that giant inflatable snake in Conan the Barbarian.

40 mins - quote:


Random techie scientist geek: you know Miguel, the body we found earlier today? I was doing prelim on him and I took blood and tissue samples.. just to check....I found traces.... significant traces..... of formic acid - since this guy seemed to be in the same shape I did a quick check on him and guess what I found....
Sheriff: I’m going to go out on a limb here and say formic acid
RTSG: BINGO!!!....... you don’t get it do you? formic acid is not a naturally occurring element in the human body
Fainting FBI: are you saying that’s how they were killed?
RTSG: no you couldn’t kill somebody with it unless you drowned them with it - I checked it out - formic acid is the active ingredient in the saliva of the capres-noogus-extrira-peas (latin sounding bollocks)
Fainting FBI: OH MY GOD!

Sheriff: the what!?
RTSG: the victims were eaten.... by ANTS!

56mins - Women in bikini’s turn up for no reason what so ever. Unless a random fashion shoot on the roof of the ”Glass trap” is a reason. Good Fred, had to get his Bikini fix in here somewhere.
57mins - Bitchy lady dies after ants drag her back into an airvent - I think the director is trying to pay homage to Aliens here - but just makes himself out to be a fucknut with a camera - other people try to help her in a really unenthusiastic manner and fail apathetically - no one seems bothered.

59 mins - FBI of Agriculture woman explains that this department experiment is so secret that the president doesn’t even know it exists - probably because he’d say it’s a really fucking stupid idea - turns out plutonium leaked onto to some tree’s on a boat and the ants were in the tree’s and now they have become giant angry radioactive ants
Sheriff: GIANT ANGRY RADIOACTIVE ANTS! why aren’t we doing something!?
FBI woman: we are - we’re bringing in a specialist

Enter Martin Kove - you know Martin Kove - yes you do - he was John Kreese, Cobra Kai Sensei in the Karate Kid - no! not Mr.Miyagi! - (although he was in Tremors) - Martin Kove is the evil leader baddie sensei that wants to give pussey Laruso boy an ass whopping… anyways

Cobra Sensei Cigar Chomping shades Wearing Bad Ass Colonel Special Agent Corrigan arrives

(Fuck yeah!)

Cobra Sensei: whaddya got here?

Bad Actor Dude: we’re not exactly sure sir - the field agents reported that some trees had been delivered into this building

what kind of tree’s?

palms I believe sir........but we think the tree’s .... .are infested..... .with ANTS

Ants? that’s it? that’s why they brought me all the way out here? for some God Damned Ants!?

Sir, they are radio active

Radio active? (he says with a sudden wry evil shit eating grin)

Highly… (looking strangely aroused)

Now that’s more like it soldier! - show me some ants!

(Fuck Yeah!)

I don’t think I need to rip the piss out of the above dialogue - it speaks for itself.

did you bring a key to this place?
erm no....
(pulls out gun shoots door)
good thing I brought mine… (what a legendary cock knocker this guy is!)

Meanwhile the motley crew of survivors have fixed a wire across to the roof of the next building - they make their way across one by one - giving our director a chance to show some gratuitous bikini ass - during this escape one of the ants manages to get on the wire and kill that ”duck wielding random dude” from earlier - a mix of a man hanging from a washing line in front of a blue screen and a balloon animal tied to it making squeaking noises - this is possibly the worst action sequence in the history of film.

Cobra Sensei walks around the Glass House for about five minutes - he sees one ant - one - and that one ant attacks the bad actor dude from behind so he shoots the bad actor dude seven times in the chest so the bullets go right through and kill the ant too. Bit over the top perhaps.

Cobra Sensei then decides to fill this place with “enough DDT to flatten Texas, we’re going to have ourselves a good old fashioned Bug barbecue” - this really seems a bit extreme and also - in the history of the earth - who the fuck has ever had a bug barbecue?!?!

1 hr 12 mins - Sheriff and Sharon (what a team!) go back into the soon to be DDT’d building to rescue some random fat chick who phoned the random duck wielding dead guys mobile and said ”come rescue me! there’s ants in the basement!” - Cobra Sensei’s response to this? “Collatoral damage” - Legend.


Sheriff says: “Nice shoes - are you going to be able to run in those?”
Sharon: “Well I won’t get far in life if I can’t do everything in heels”

this reminded me of the following conversation I once had:

Girl: I can’t walk in these shoes
Me: Then why the Bleeding Jesus Mary Mother of Fucking Joseph did you buy the damn things?..

1hr 17 mins - Absolute carnage - Sheriff gets an inflatable ant to the throat - Fat chick gets her feet nibbled - Sharon the babe picks up a gun and starts busting caps in ant ass like a God damned Navy Seal - then Doofus Cleaner C.Thomas Howell turns up AFTER everything has finished - exchanges loving glances with girl - film remembers that there are ants around - Sharon the babe and C Thomas Howell leg it and hide in caged electricity generator thingy-ma-jig

1hr 19mins - very disconcerting lingering ”up nose” shot of Cobra Sensei - he needs to trim that nose hair - it is absolutely out of fucking control

1hr 20 mins - Sharon the Babe electrocutes the giant angry radioactive ants - all 4 of them. Meanwhile C.Thomas Howell holds a spade in a threatening manner.

1hr 21mins - my favourite bit - Cobra sensei is sitting on the hood of his car chomping a cigar laughing at nothing while counting down the seconds until DDT action - ”16,15...” then a large breasted girl runs into the scene, dramatically points in the general direction of the building and says ”Help! there is a guygamoogananaieis the building” - I checked this a few times and I have no idea what she is actually saying - the girl had one line - one line - her whole life she’s been waiting for this - and she fucks it up completely.

Sensei Cobra says ”don’t you worry little lady just relax” puts his arm across her breasts pins her against the car - holds her there totally and utterly copping a feel big time - this is the most awkward looking scene in movie history - the woman looks like she has just taken a dump in her pants - I really believe she was not expecting this.


”13!” - cut to shot of the countdown timer ”10” - shot of C.Thomas Howell and Sharon the babe running out the doors - camera cuts back to Cobra with his arm still over the breasts of that random girl, copping a feel big time “7!” he’s had his mitts there for 8 seconds - 8 seconds - she should be suing for sexual harassment

“3, 2, 1” - cut to a scene of three oil drums - a pathetic set of fire crackers goes off on top of them - cut to a shot of the front door with a little bit of smoke coming out of it - Not exactly blowing up the fucking White House in Independence fucking Day is it?

Final Ant makes last gasp attempt for freedom - Cobra Sensei finally removes hand from girls breast and goes over and stamps on its head - unfortunately he says nothing cool while doing this, cool things like ”Go to hell you Damn Dirty Giant Radioactive Angry Ant” or ”One thing I never told you about me - I hate Ants”.....

or ”You got knocked the Fuck Out!” like Smokey in Friday.

C.Thomas Howell asks Sharon the Babe out for coffee..... ”yeah I’d like that” she replies looking at him with loving eyes (what is she? a fucking poodle?) .... they go to kiss and end up pecking each other on the cheek....he looks up at the Glass house building mysteriously pondering (like what the fuck happened to my career that meant I ended up in this mongoloid dump of a movie) … credits roll.... and so ends one of the worst films ever made.

But it still wasn’t as bad as Cursed.

Spo | July 26, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Film / TV / Music | Kaneheads Kompanion | Personal

July 21, 2005

I’m Going To 2nd Bed….

.... I was asked ....

.... if I live on a mountain....
....nope, I’m 14 floors up is all....
....and I can’t be doing with curtains this high....
....simply too much trouble....
....like stairs....

....(be it walking up them, or falling down them)....
.... ....
....so when the sun rises around 6am....
....unconsciously so do I....
....and the above is usually along the lines of what I see....
....and then I get....

....to go to....
....2nd Bed....

........2nd bed is best....
....
....when you slowly rise reluctantly realising....

....its time to go be in the world again....
....feeling like you want a bit more....

....of that other place you were just in....
....claw back that scrumptious comfiness of the foggy mind....

....

....
....five more minutes please....
....and then it dawns on you as the sun does upon the city outside....

....it’s ok....
....it’s Kool n de Gang in fact....
....you got two more hours yet....
....

....
....You Got 2nd Bed....

Spo | July 21, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Kaneheads Kompanion | Pictures

July 19, 2005

What I reckon was going on in Donnie Darko….

Donnie Darko: You know you’ve seen something special as the Mad World montage rolls - you feel a rise in emotion as Donnie lies still in the crushed remains of his bedroom - the credits cascade and there is a feeling that you’ve been taken somewhere over the last few hours and as a result you know more about what’s going on in your life - but still you can’t explain what the hell just happened ....


In the end, due to the many ways of reading the films events, what you want it to mean is the most important thing - as long as it said something to you. Me personally I’d summarise as such: Donnie’s mission is to return the metal artefact that has passed through the walls of time (creating a tangent universe) back to reality. If he fails to do so, the universes structure will collapse, with a black hole sucking everything into oblivion after the allotted time span has elapsed (28 days etc etc) - reason being tangent universes do not hang around too long and are very unstable.


For Donnie to realise his purpose, he is helped by messages sent via a ”higher power” in the form of Frank, as he unconsciously flicks destinies switches to pattern a series of butterfly effects to occur that will eventually allow him to realise his powers and what he must ultimately do. As demonstrated by the freaky tubes of water emanating from the chests of those within the tangent universe (who are not consciously aware of events) - people have a preordained path in life to follow within the dimensions of time and reality (ref the conversation with Noah Wyles science teacher) - However, Donnie can see these paths and more importantly change them - by virtue of Frank he can ”see God’s path” and change the future.


Seeing as we are dealing with a tangent universe here and not reality, anyone that dies within it will not have their soul passed to the other side, they aren’t really dead, they are asleep, therefore that means that Frank will become the ”manipulated dead” when Donnie shoots him - allowing him to be used as a vessel for the messages from the higher power and travel back and forth within the time period of that universe. Donnie has to kill him later on for him to help him at the beginning and save his life.


The main thing that I am unsure of myself about is with the death of Gretchen - how does her death enable him to complete his quest? my main assumption is that she acts as a messenger to Donnie in the same way as Frank, but with more subtlety - the directors cut shows more of their relationship and she does indeed have a huge effect on his life - she is a gift to him in a sea of uncertainty - he’s got to see the good in the world in order to want to ultimately want to save it - perhaps if she wasn’t in his life he wouldn’t believe he could fly (as this is what happens unseen in the end - he flies up and rips the engine from the plane - throwing it back through the portal - his powers of flight are alluded to by the axe in the statue) and that she dies means he is willing to risk everything to save reality - as this is the only way to save her.

Once the engine is returned, the unstable tangent universe is shut (and so also shutting out the possibility of a Black Hole that occurs when tangent universes collapse) and all awake from a fiercely lucid dream - little realising that this dream was reality in another dimension.

The engine falls upon and kills Donnie tragically - his death isn’t required for events to continue - at the beginning Donnie cheats death when Frank calls to him - but here in reality there is no Frank to rescue him (although the beeping car horn is a distant attempt - Frank is his sisters boyfriend dropping her off). The future has already been changed due to the insights that all those who awake from the dream now possess - the engine is the only evidence that any of what they dreamt took place at all - and, bear with me here, it won’t happen again in the future as it has already taken place.

In a way Donnie is a little biblical in character, rescuing humanity and sacrificing himself in the process, but safe in the knowledge that he is not alone when he dies and therefore doesn’t need to be afraid - Donnie has seen the proof he has always been searching for in Frank, the dream in which he dies becomes the best he ever had, he is a super hero and he rescues us all.

Lastly you may be thinking that far too much of the meaning behind Donnie Darko seems hidden in the psyche of those that have interpreted it and the mind of the director and writer (one and the same) Richard Kelly. You have to remember though, that we live in changing times and that the experience of this film is not upon the cinema screen alone - it’s across many channels - it makes us ask so many questions that we delve into many forms of communication in order so that we may find the answers - internet, literature (read Graham Greens The Destructors), music, religion, science and fantasy - furthermore it leads us to communicate with one another in an attempt to fathom our understanding of the events - not only of the film but of life itself.....

Whoa..........

what famous old book does that sound like (yeah alright, I know - I’m pushing it here)

Of course it could just be a really cool tale of teenage angst, accidental time travel and getting the girl while listening to a quality soundtrack.....


and I might of smoked too much of the good stuff while watching it....


but as Clarence in True Romance says… THAT was a fucking movie!

Spo | July 19, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Film / TV / Music | Kaneheads Kompanion

July 17, 2005

Sundays ….. Truly The day Of Rest…

When you are taking a conscious time out from procedings of late - relaxation needs unconscious planning..... in time, it will become second nature… like it is for me....

A day of loafing requires the following things:

Rise and shuffle around 10am - mild hangover from the night before - but did well to drink water before bed - kudos to me. indeed. ....... really liking that word ”Kudos” of late....

Short and Sweet early morning sort out - won’t be needing to impress the world today, so wear that scruffy bed head and Indiana Jones stubble like a medal and be proud of.

Full English Breakfast - regular heart attack of eggs, toast, bacon & sausages (well Indonesia’s best attempt at sausages - don’t know what it is with Asia and sausages, but they just don’t get it)

Lazy Boy Chair - it was expensive - but even though I support them - I still never expected Liverpool to win the champions league last season - neither did the Bookies in March - and that random bet of the drunken heart paid off - and it turned into the most comfortable place I shall ever have the pleasure to be parked in. Never underestimate the worthiness of a chair that can seem part of you.....

$1 DVD’s - Summer blockbuster lull at the Pirate store kicks in - Fantastic Four? no thanks - got Land of the Dead yet? nope - Ok, rediscover the classics - Fight Club, High Fidelity, Donnie Darko and to finish it off, One flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest. Consider yourself pretty damn fucking entertained after that lot.

Playlist - set up of the likes of the acoustic Foo Fighters disc, Interpol, Bravery, The Shins, Death Cab for Cutie, Bloc party, Coldplay, Kaiser chiefs, Jack Johnson, Razorlight, the entire collection of the Thievery Corporation - all interpsread with the sharp cynical knife edge wit of audio CD rips from the late great Bill Hicks

The Enemy - Lee Child - I’m a sucker for a bad ass maverick cop story - and Jack Reacher is as serious a mofo in that mould as you can get.

Shooting Stars - Harry Shapiro’s superbly written biography of Drugs, Hollywood and the Movies - in the style of Easy Riders, Raging Bulls.- Howard Marks Foreword - sold!

The UK version of the Sunday times they laser print it off the press and it arrives around 3pm - it can be 2 or 3 hours of good reading cover to cover - Favourite thing I learned today was:

A husband who was advised to strip naked and shout at trees by a marriage councillor, says it has saved his marriage. Dieter Braun, 43, said the stress release technique stopped him shouting at his wife, (pls insert comedy accent here) “If I didn’t go to the woods and scream at trees then my marriage would be over” he insisted “Feeling the breeze on my naked skin really calms me down” Braun, of Recklinghausen(!), Germany, was speaking after he was arrested and charged with causing a public nuisance.

Pizza Delivery - 7507220 - don’t be needing no mee-noo: Izzi Pizza’a Beef n Izzi pizza $2 & to your door in 15mins - I’ll be damned if I’m making any more effort to feed myself on a day like this.

Pringles - 3 tubes of - flavours be Tomato, Barbecue and good old Original - don’t eat them all you greedy gibbon - but variety is the spice of life.

Cordless Phone - for comedy catch up conversations with folk back home - mock Loomis about his ”Banjo” snapping incident

Remotes - God bless em - god bless em all....

Bottle of Jack Daniels - the most generous of helpings when you are your own barman…

& Coke - (of the drinkable kind )

Full Ice Tray - unfortunately not in the shape of woodland creatures but you can’t have everything.....

Cigarettes - just in case - kinda gave up when Liverpool won the champions league - my half time prayer - 3-3 at the death - won on penalties - but alcohol and cigarettes go together like women and whipped cream - takes more than good natured promises and the knowledge that cigarettes will ultimately kill me to break up the beautiful relationship between a drink and a smoke - although haven’t had the urge - yet - but they go together with JD pretty well........ I’m not addicted - I just like em…

Bed - beckons when my eyes close without asking......


Sundays ..... truly the day of rest

Spo | July 17, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia

July 16, 2005

Seems like the gods of nature are not too happy with what we’ve done with the place….

Staring out into the black haze, I hear a thousand snakes hissing on the road outside,

As the sound of the Gods moving furniture around in the clouds shakes my windows,

On the roof above me ancient hands rain down on tribal drums of indonesias lost culture,

As in the far away distance Giants take pictures of it all using flash bulb photography from the 1800’s.....

.....there’s a storm brewing in Jakarta tonight..... and I’m keeping well out of the way..

Spo | July 16, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Pictures

July 16, 2005

Get a sense of it…

looking at cleavage is like looking at the sun!
you don’t stare! its too risky!
get a sense of it! and then look away!
- Seinfeld

Spo | July 16, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Film / TV / Music | Kaneheads Kompanion

July 13, 2005

Curbs your enthusiasm somewhat…..

So yeah that situation is still cooking away - I’ve not written about it of late - probably because there isn’t much more to say on the matter - sort these things in your own mind - it’s fucked up and the only one that can really do anything about it is her in the end - we can’t talk much as such conversations have to be clandestine with her current scenario - I think I accept that its not going to happen between us - that brings a finality to the situation and then you move on to thinking how to help her if she needs it - I know instances such as the car might suggest I don’t give a shit - but I do…


....brings up a lot of thoughts about other past relationships and women in my life - the bigger picture - where I’m going after this place - when the next stage kicks in - settling one day - I’d almost settled in Vietnam, maybe one more year or so… if I hadn’t left in December things would of been very different right now - but followed the career path in the end did I - if I hadn’t, maybe I wouldn’t be writing again - as with this site that’s what I’ve been able to do - for the first time in a year and a half - write everyday - love writing - think it comes from having my mind kick started by the things taking place outside of work, rather than in Nam where everything was about the work....


....I think I work towards getting back to Malawi one day - running the tea office, selling the good stuff (the tea doofus, not Malawi gold marijuana), travelling to the Narnia-like plantations in Mulanje and Thyolo, even go back to Moz - but this time in control of my own destiny - on the side get a bar by the lake, red ripped sunsets and hammocks..... Finlay Quayes even after all playing away in the background… daydreaming about being teenwolf occaisonal monkey comes down from a tree......les seige estee dans le arbre....steals a beer… that’s ok.... he’ll learn....beer is not for monkeys..... funny watching them learn that lesson though....hmmm I’m drifting here…


...I don’t really believe in what I’m doing here in Jakarta to be honest - important to have a job you care about - if you can be lucky enough to do so - in Vietnam I gave a shit about the tea industry and we built a business and started up trade in uncharted territory for buyers and producers alike - you’d go to work swinging and hit home runs - you’d see the effect of things taking off for the first time - meet people who also wanted to work with you to build better things - Quan Chu was a place were you saw that selling their tea meant that you helped more than a bank balance for example - but yeah in truth I liked going up there to drink whisky and wine with Mr.Luan - every day was unpredictable in both good and bad ways - snakes in the office one time - that’s a different post.....


Here the industry is more stagnant - stifled by jobsworths - the bureaucracy rampant - the tea average - the producers and sellers uninspired - arrogant in so far as its your job to sell their tea, not their job to persuade you to buy it - its all been tried before - its all been worked to the place you thought of - its all been blended in a hundred different ways - not quite cheap enough to be interesting, but too expensive against the quality and price available from elsewhere - sure the products got its mainstays and ever ready homes - bought privately and in the auction - but those paths are set - you aren’t changing anything here, every new idea sinks to the bottom of the ocean with samples, emails and phone calls clawing at possible new avenues of opportunity - in the end falling on apathetic pallets, blind eyes and deaf ears.


Curbs your enthusiasm somewhat.




“Buy it please” - you beg -
“why?" -
“I need to fill up my day” -
“would you buy it?” -
“erm.... no” -
“exactly

Spo | July 13, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Personal

July 11, 2005

On the sleepy road, to nowhere that I have not gone before..

This weekend I took it easy and slept a marathon 24 hours out of 48 - as though I was paying in lost hours to the sleep bank owed from the last week or so - I’m still in the red I feel - I woke this morning at 8 and could of easily carried on for a good few hours more.

Anna says “sleep is good, it’s free and it keeps you out of bother” she is truly wise beyond her years.

The bed looked like a war zone when I got up - pillows everywhere, quilt on the floor, sleeping under the mattress cover sheet at 90 degree’s to where I started - I travelled during my dreams last night I think - no distinct memory of as to where, but I can lucidly remember conversations with people I haven’t seen or heard from for years - and they seem like proper memories.

I wonder if dreams are similar to when you are in a coma - just like the book by Alex Garland titled the same - running around unconsciously creating scenario’s and people - all of whom act as though they are free thinking individuals but in fact are actually formed based on what your experience of their company leads you to think they are like - I probably dream of places I have been, if indeed I ever dream of being in a specific location - or I construct new places with the building blocks of familiar places from memory - when I dreamed of the space station , the interior looked like the inside of the Hanoi Hilton hotel, Derriford hospital in Plymouth and the beginning bit from Star Wars - all blended together.

Once in a while I dream of Kirsty - a girl who twisted my melon in many ways back when I was a proper kaneheads kompanion at the age of 17 or 18 - I dream she is exactly as she was when I knew her - but in fact she had many faces, not all of which I saw - and in my dreams she is just as I personally remember her - not even as I would like to remember her - very much different things - but when she speaks or takes actions, she does so based on what I unconsciously imagine she would do in such a situation - she is not really there. Like in Solaris when George Clooney’s wife turns up and he realises that he is interacting with his memory of her - not the real deal.

Dreams and Drugs are often talked of in the same sentence - the time we tripped and walked back home at dawn after spending the last 6 hours laughing at nothing - quite exhausting that - laughing continuously for that amount of time - I looked up and proclaimed the sky to look like Battenberg Cake - which it obviously wasn’t - sky cannot be cake - but my eyes were playing tricks on me - same as they were when I thought a person span past me on the dancefloor sitting on a wheeled office chair - or when the DJ arrived inside the club driving a Chevrolet, waved, hopped over the side door and ran up to start his set.....

- there was no car - just lights from the bar -

......but for me, the mind had a check list of possible things the eyes were telling they saw - and the wrong box was ticked - information from eyes HQ said - ”crowd parting - two bright lights from bar area - man jumping down onto dance floor waving” - the mind was not at its best and processed the info to say the DJ was in an open top Chevrolet, whose headlights I saw, as he hopped the car door, rather than the step to the floor - seemed reasonable at the time.

But that is about perception of reality based on what you see and hear rather than perception of what you actually think - the information from your senses plays a game of Chinese whispers on the way to the mind - who can blame you? your mind was being fed jumbled info - what other conclusion could you be expected to come to?....

....she actually said ”where is my coat” - not ”how is it that otters float” - that’s why she looks confused about you talking about otters for five minutes - but she’s fucked too and now is starting to get accidentally interested - no longer cares about the coat - what more can you tell her about woodland creatures?....

....Dreams are created by how you perceive people and places to really be, based on information stored in your mind.

Which is why I occasionally dream of Kirsty and wake up thinking how good it was to see her again.

I hope that I meet her again one day and realise the answer as to whether what everyone else told me was true…

....That she was a bit of a nut job who didn’t really give a shit about me or anyone else for that matter....

....As I always thought she was kinda cool.

Spo | July 11, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia

July 10, 2005

Lucifer Likes Vodka…

When the Russians left - this was their leagcy - one day soon it could be the death of me.

Spo | July 10, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Kaneheads Kompanion

July 10, 2005

Cool Buddha…

Spo | July 10, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Kaneheads Kompanion | Ojeni

July 9, 2005

Dusk Brewing….

The best photo I've ever taken

Spo | July 9, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Vietnam | Kaneheads Kompanion | Ojeni | Personal

July 8, 2005

I Just wanted to write…

Last night when I got back I watched the BBC World and phoned back to the UK - I spent a long time talking over the events of the day with Anna and Barnes - probably my two closest friends - we all agreed how much worse it could of been and how lucky we were no one we knew was killed.

It’s been a rollercoaster last few weeks - hitting it too hard on the nightlife, the Hanh situation, the car crash and yesterdays events.

Today I wanted to escape it and get my mind in a different place for a while - so I just wrote about the random memory of Tuyen and got lost in the prose - writing can really be a kind of calming influence and focus your mind on another place - just get sucked into the page and see what comes of it.

When your mind is a bit scrambled and you’ve got a million thoughts going on its good to be able to channel your feelings into something you love doing and dive into a bit of escapism.

Spo | July 8, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Personal

July 8, 2005

Taxi Tuyen “rut tot trung” (very good egg)

Hanoi Tuyen was the taxi equivalent of the lost city of gold – difficult to find and full of riches. He struck me as a fairly well educated man, not just because of his English ability, but also due to his wealth of knowledge and opinion on all matters this earth had to offer – perhaps this is true for all taxi drivers, they are a indeed, a special breed - apart from the one who took me back from a drunken night in Winchester and tried to tell me he could provide home made M-16 assualt rifles - I suppose he was special as well actually, but not in a good way.



I often wonder if i should’ve been a taxi driver – think of the gibber grind possibilities! There they are locked in there until destination is reached, allowing you to get a real grind on – combine this with my “alternative” sense of direction and you’ve got long-term-hurt-locker-grind-potential. Although recent events relating to me and cars do suggest that perhaps this is not a good idea.



I didn’t have a motorbike in Hanoi (I certainly would of killed myself) and took Taxi’s or motorcylce Xe Om’s everywhere I wanted to go - the average 15-20 minute taxi journey costing a dollar - but even though the price was cheap I still really took huge offense to those drivers that took me the long way round to boost the meter up a bit - it meant that you could never really sit back and enjoy the road (there was always something going on worth watching) - constantly checking the turnings to make sure the driver was not trying to pull a fast one - its the principle of being tricked and insulted - you’d pay the tip to the amount he bumps the meter if he he just didn’t try to fuck you in the first place.



When I met Tuyen it was class, as I could always ring him to drive me about I’d never have to worry about over charging and he knew plenty of Hanoi’s hidden secrets - he was also a good old boy. He asked my opinion of his business card, I explained that it should say “English Speaking taxi driver” rather than “Speaking English taxi driver”.



Unfortunately Tuyen was not actually an official Taxi driver as he no affiliation to the registered companies – this meant he didn’t pay tax and had to avoid police (whom he paid off if he had to) - this sometimes led to impromptu extended journeys as he tried to dodge the coppers ”no meter now mr semen - must avoid problem for a short time - sorry”. This could be a problem at times.


Another problem was that his car was a piece of shit.



Tuyen and I usually try to outdo each other in confuscious style comments concerning the art of “fishing” with the fairer sex:



“the fish that take long time to catch taste much better - hungry fish not taste good”


“yes, he who catch fish at end of day is much happier - than he who catch in just one hour”


“he who catch too many fish - cannot eat them all”


“he who fish in another mans well, - catch crabs”


“there are many ways to cook fish once caught”


“he who have long rod - catch many fish”


“yes he who have much money to spend on good bait - also catch many fish”


“but he who have long rod maybe not need money for bait”


“yes and some time the fish take the bait - but the fisherman not get to eat the fish”


“so he go to fish restaurant where he not need to try to catch”


“touche’”


Anyways, journeys in Taxi Tuyens cab of wonder (in so much as you wonder how it keeps going) also were chances to hear how his happy-go-lucky outlook on life had once again undeservably punished him. First there was the Slovakian Australian based businessman, who befreinded him and then “forgot” to give back $250 that he had borrowed (Tuyen was sure it was a mistake and that he will get it back when the businessman returns to Hanoi), then there was the time he went back to his village and got himself some “instant noodle”, only to return home and realise that he had lost his wallet, claiming that “maybe it fall down as I not put in my back pocket correctly” and not stopping for a second to think that the girl might have had something to do with it “no she a very nice girl I do not think she would do that” .



At the beginnig of last year, during the Tet festival when he was very, very, busy, Tuyen had a bad accident. He was very tired and did not see the motorbike carrying three people (most I’ve seen on one motorbike is 5) coming up on the outside of him – they all needed hospital treatment – a man and his son broke a few arms and legs, while the old lady had a spinal injury and needed further treatment until the end of the year. As a rule riders and drivers in Vietnam don’t have insurance – paid company drivers probably, but not average joe – therefore this accident could of been far worse if Tuyen was not the decent man that he was.



He paid $5000 for the hospital fees and treatment and found a way to get a loan from the bank to cover the money – he remained in close contact with the family and took the father and son to his village - paying for their stay and driving them around. He hoped to be able to pay off the loan by the end of the year – if you do the math there that’s a lot of money to get shot of in one year as well as paying for general existance - Vietnam is not a rich country – there was definitely more to the tale of Tuyen - because you don’t get that rich driving taxi’s.



One day he didn’t answer the phone anymore - wasn’t to be found at his regular haunts - and I never saw him again - he was a very good egg.

Spo | July 8, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Vietnam

July 7, 2005

what’s important…..

Obviously being not only British but human puts a day like this in perspective - time is late at this moment and bed is beckoning - but I will stop to say this:

When news broke on the bbc news the first thing I did was ring Anna’s work to make sure she was Ok - when I spoke to the receptionist and she said ”I’ll put you through” all I could say was ”Thank fuck for that” - later I learned Cassie was in Italy - Tom had the week off (he works above one of the tube stations bombed ) - Stuarts family was fine - in the end everyone I knew was OK - apart from Masher who was in the Kings Cross carriage - burnt hair and cuts and bruises - he’s in hospital now - but Barnes says he’s OK - physically - it was freaky as no mobile or email systems were really working to get through at first - the news suggested it was injuries and transport gridlock - an attack at the mechanism of London itself rather than a body count - but still not knowing for sure was terrifying - I’ve never lost anyone from my circle of friends - when the bottom must drop out of existence and you feel hollow and helpless.

I wasn’t surprised when I heard the news - eventually this would happen - all I wanted to know was how bad - anything compared to September 11th would rip the soul from our country in the same way as the Twin Towers did America - someone I knew would be gone - our country scarred forever in the same way - I don’t feel relief exactly, don’t get me wrong - but ever since September 11th I’ve been waiting and the underground was the way I thought they’d do it - not Heathrow - not the houses of parliament - not the London eye - the underground is part of the inherent heart of London and it is not really manned to the hub with security or protection - buy your ticket with thousands of others and jump off at your stop - it is an important and easy target for those that wish to bring the fear we knew was coming.

And what I see when the dust settles could of been so much worse - which is no comfort to those killed or those that have lost someone - any attack is a terrible thing - but it’s like a tidal wave you see coming rather, than one you’ve got your back to - and our people stood strong today - our public services stood strong today - our leader stood strong today.

I was proud to have come from my country today in a way - but more so than that I was eternally grateful those I cared about are Ok and fucking gutted for anyone lost I didn’t know as well.

Spo | July 7, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Daily Life - UK | News | Personal

July 7, 2005

Sometimes I am a very stupid lucky young man

We drove past the scene of the crime yesterday - I still had a(nother) crushing hangover and nowhere near enough sleep - up to that point I was being kind of casual about the incident - Robin and John had been to - just the bumper - no ones hurt - sort of ”yeah I crashed the car because I had this girl on my lap at the time and I lost concentration - don’t kiss girls while driving - hahaha” - but when we actually saw the scene at the truning at Pondok Indah it was a crushing blow dealt by reality - knocks the wind out of you and stands above saying ”you are a very stupid lucky young man and if you pull anything like this again you won’t be breathing but more to the point someone else might not be either and unlike you they won’t deserve it”


To have managed to get up onto the side of the road after hitting the concrete reservation meant I must of been travelling at a fairly great speed while taking the corner - the height of the concrete is about 1 or 2 feet - then once driving on the reservation I have mowed down and shredded about three trees’s (not 1000 year old oak types but more of the stringy, just starting out, cannot breath in the traffic fumes ones) and then torn up the grass everywhere - then the sickener - the tire marks show that I must of swerved back onto the road just before I ploughed into the fucking huge concrete wall of the overhead toll road.

The three of us had been out for a big night - so much of everything - I’m not drinking beer much these days and prefer whisky Gin and double vodka’s - these go down far too well and before you know it you are wasted without realising the bomb has dropped - I had left my car at Johns hotel, 5 mins round the corner from my apartment - me and the girl got back to the hotel at around 3am deserted streets and silence abounding - the tea auction would start in seven hours - the car needed to be at my house (I reasoned) - its a short drive.


Minnie (as I call her) is a good time girl and she was getting hot in the car - can’t keep our hands off each other - I take the corner - take my eyes off the road and into hers - drifted a second - then BOOM! like a rhino hitting the front right side it sounds the bell of reality - she’s out of my lap and back in the passenger seat screaming - tree’s and bushes appearing in the windscreen a second - then disappearing sucked under the wheels - headlit chaos - no road anymore - surreal drama filling the screen - she’s screaming - the engine’s screaming - but I’m taking it in like taking snapshots with a camera - stop start motion - my fucked up mind not in a state of panic or fear or terror - just bemused - watching this happen and thinking “hmmmm.... this isn’t good....”


Hardly poignant possible final words


and then its over - we’re back on the road - silence - then freaked laughther - shocked relief and ”what the fuck!?!” - two or three seconds at the most it had lasted - now gone - onto the next thing - back to the apartment - fuck like rabbits.


--


You can’t make a case for driving wasted - but sometimes folk will think they know themselves and their limits - their own power of control to be followed more than under the those set out rules of law - metabolism - ability to sober yourself and regain control - that you’ll take it easy and nothing bad will happen to you - it’s deserted - it’s 3am - it’s five minutes round the corner - I’m Ok - it’s Ok - in the west you’d never do it but out here its different because so much else is out of control.


No dice


“you are a very stupid lucky young man and if you pull anything like this again you won’t be breathing but more to the point someone else might not be either and unlike you they won’t deserve it”


Even more stupid that such an incident like this had to happen to make me properly understand that - I write this post and know that some people will read and get pretty angry - justifiably - all I can say is lesson learned and after seeing that wall I appreciate I’m pretty lucky to be around to learn it.

Spo | July 7, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Personal

July 6, 2005

Note to Self: Don’t kiss girls while driving….

Note to self: Don’t kiss girls while driving

Spo | July 6, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Kaneheads Kompanion | Personal

July 5, 2005

Blind Confidence on a beach in Nghe An……

‘How much you give him”
“about 2000”
“you should not – you will lose too much money – many people like him”
“they don’t have much money – 2000 is Ok”
“Some beggar in Vietnam earn more money than those who work in office”
“ah come on – the guys blind! He had his little son there, leading him about...got the stick and everything....”
(Tri Laughs loudly) “that not his son and he not blind!”
“How d’ya know that?… I mean....”
“Look! – now he walk on his own and no fall over deckchair”
“Oh yeah......cheeky wee bas...ah well he can have his 2000 for the acting alone”

That was with my partner in tea trading crime Nguyen Tri on a beach in Nam last year - now I’m in Jakarta - when I go into town there is always this guy who can’t use his legs pushing himself around the gutter on his cloth wrapped hands and when ever I see him I give him 10 or 20,000 rph - his face lights up like a firecracker and I hope that it means he gets a decent meal and can call it a day - but I doubt it - just means the average for the hour went up and he’ll stick around seeing what other good fortune can come his way, if any - as really what else does he have to do? When I drive home there are always two girls asking for money at the traffic lights up at Pondok Indah - again if I see her I give her what I have and usually I can give more than most (they know my licence plate by now I’m sure) - one of the girls must be about six the other maybe twelve - they’re pretty efficient at what they do - they work the cars that look like they have richer folk - they don’t hang around trying to play emotions - they try and cover as many cars as possible before the lights change and then they get the hell out of the way.

I mean I see far too many beggers in Jakarta and you can see who is good and who is bad at it - the old women tapping on your window for five minutes pushing a babies face at you - the guy with a crappy guitar making a noise at your bumper - the old man selling something he thinks is food but I’m sure has escaped from a science lab somewhere and is actually a genetic weapon - these folk aren’t getting my money - and yeah I should feel bad that I’m weighing up the worthiness of each and every person tapping on my window BUT there are a lot of people tapping on that window during the average journey I can tell you - so you have to pick - as right or wrong as that maybe.

In the Kampungs you have these very small narrow streets that wind their way around the various shacks, houses, side street stalls and restaurants etc - you can’t see round the corners and there is often not enough room for two cars - people use these side streets as they often are the secret oasis short cut that can rescue you from gridlocked hell (as described in One thing about Santa Carla I never could stand....) - they also can get you trapped in nightmare scenarios from which there is no reverse for hours on end - meaning you have to drive like a mental person to get out. These Kampung crossways do provide gainful employment for hundreds and thousands of little men however, they guard the corner of these warren road ways and direct traffic so that there aren’t too many ”points of no return” as I call them - when two cars meet and neither backs down and then they wait too long and a long line of traffic forms behind them in both directions. These folk make money from the change handed out by drivers as they are helped through.

One such corner is right outside my friends house over in Kemang (a suburb of Jakarta) and it really needs a little man to help you as it is a 90 degree narrow turn big enough for one car only - it has been the property of a little boy for more or less the three or four years Robin’s been here - they knew him from not only seeing him every day, but also because of the community of house staff in the area - Kemang is popular area with expat families you see and they all have hired help - guards, gardeners, cooks and cleaners etc etc - and they all have families too so there is a community within a community. The boys parents were known to the staff at Robins place, so when he and his wife offered to pay for the boy to go to school and assist with anything he needed to get there, food, books etc they could actually offer this to the boys parents and check that he was actually going if he took them up on the offer.

But the boy refused.

He wanted to be a kampung traffic director instead.

I wanted to see if I could help the girls at pondok Indah in the same way - I figured that I could go there with Dini from the office and we could talk to them and see if it was possible to pay for their schooling instead of begging at the traffic lights - I told Robin about the idea as he had tried to do the same thing with no success - he said that the girls will be organised and it is a prime spot so the money given will not be going to them (although surely they must get something so I keep giving them money) - that any attempt to give them cash will see it ending up in the wrong place - he told me to talk to Yvette, his wife, who works with charities in Indonesia and could advise on the best place to donate any money or time to see it actually goes towards something useful - I’ll do that of course - same as I am hoping to meet in the next week with Femke from Animalia about rescuing monkeys - but the thing is that in a city like this were so much falls through the net - were if you drive around at night you will see more street kids running around than I have ever seen anywhere else in the world - any money or time and effort you give, you sort of want to see a tangible difference being made - that you can influence something no matter how small - I hope that urge isn’t an attempt to buy myself piece of mind in some way - that an act seemingly unselfish is actually just the opposite - you justify the night out spending $100 against the fact that, shit, people in this city are really poor in places, but you know you sent that girl to school or bought that crippled guy a meal, so that’s ok.

I don’t know the answer to any of the problems in Africa for example - I know that when I was working there that, if anything, the main thing for me was systems. That Gift (RIP achemwene)and I sat on the steps smoking cigarettes talking about women, football and laughing in the same way that I did with Duong in Hanoi, Andrey in Moscow, Coops in Edinburgh, Flip in Rotterdam, Barnes in the pub back home, Michael in Mombassa, John in Toronto.... even Javed in a restaurant in Peshawar - that when it came down to it, you can mix and blend with anyone from anywhere on this earth about the fundamentals - but when I was back in the UK and Gift got sick - Gift was fucked - because Gift was in Malawi - and Gift died.

There were no systems in Kenya, Mozambique and Malawi - if you need public services you are fucked - if you don’t have a job - you are fucked - if you want to go to school and don’t have any money - you are fucked - if you are disabled or poor or homeless - you are fucked.

It seemed like there wasn’t anyone running the show and everyone had to get along by themselves, their friends and families - give a guy money but for what exactly? my company paid for Gifts hospital bills but there was nothing you could do by then - the point was how he got sick in the first place.

In Vietnam the government said rats were a problem and they would pay for every rats tail brought in - people started breeding rats - in Jakarta they said that during certain times you have to have minimum of three people in the car or you would be fined - next day hundreds of little men along the road offering to be the third man for a small fee - Cape McClear on the coast of Lake Nyasa in Malawi - it was a very poor African village self contained - hand to mouth - full of good people like Toby, John, Patrick, Patience and Irish - they travelled around buying and selling hand carved curios - pick them up in the forest in Mulanje - sell them for double in Blantyre - this was an identifiable way to make money - a process you can understand - same as the girls at the traffic lights in Pondok Indah and the guy with no legs on the way into town - you’re waking up every day and thinking how to get through it and that is the way to do it for them.

My girl friend in Malawi was Debbie Chikondi - she was fantastic - a bit mad at times - but she travelled around Sub Saharan Africa - she looked after her sister - she was raped by her uncle - she spoke five languages - her best friend drowned in front of her - she crossed borders in rowing boats and had no documentation - she carried a friend of hers who broke her leg down Mount Mulanje - her brother got burned out of his home for not joining up with the Zanu PF in Zimbabwe - she loved drinking and dancing and she slept with people she chose to for money sometimes. I don’t know what happened to her in the end.

But what I do know is that the size of the task that Live 8 is undertaking for example - or that anyone wanting to help out those less fortunate - is that I think that the world actually needs to hear some good news for a change - they need to see more differences being made otherwise all you will get in the end is apathy - and that apathy is not totally unjustified, as fucked up as that may sound - as people have shit to deal with on a day to day basis which may very well not be of the same magnitude as that which the guy with no legs deals with - but its still shit to deal with none the less - and because someone dies every three seconds in Africa does not mean you don’t have to pay your bills, raise your kids, keep your job and get through each day in your part of the world - I think it’s I don’t have much time or much money, but tell me how to help in a way that actually benefits something and I will.


People do want to help - the vast majority of people on the planet do give a shit about other people - they are not cruel individuals obsessed with their own problems saying sorry about your situation but not my problem - just that I think that most people don’t know how to help in such a way that makes any difference - or that they can see makes any difference. Live 8 is telling me people are dying and the continent is being crushed by poverty - many don’t know this and I’m sure it can’t hurt to keep telling people - but I know these things - I see this in the news daily, I read about it, I’ve been to some of the places they say are suffering, I know people that are living in some of those places - what I want to know is that if any of the money raised over the years is actually making a difference to anything? tell me more about the economic growth in Uganda, tell me more about the reversal of Aids in Botswana, tell me something other than ”this place is fucked and we need to fix it” - because I’m there - I’m willing to give what I can - but to where? and how? and what for? and most importantly to whom?

I’ve rambled here and gone off in different directions in this post - I don’t know the answers to these questions as many people don’t that would like to do what they can - I imagine that the people that do know the answers are meeting at the G8 summit and that the fact Live 8 and the demonstrations took place will make the media ask the right questions to the men and women in suits attending in Edinburgh - and that they give answers as a result and something actually happens - because it seems for as long as I remember it’s been going in the wrong direction no matter what people do.

Spo | July 5, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Vietnam

June 25, 2005

Home

Truly, back in UK I’ve got a group of friends just as important to me as family - and with working on the other side of the world, the 6 hour time difference and all of us getting sucked up in the daily grind I really worry that the ties will become strained and that next time we meet we’ll have spent too much time apart - that we share things with others and have experiences that change us into slightly different people - that were once you sat and talked all night and laughed so hard no sound comes out, suddenly you don’t have anything to say - awkward silences - failed attempts to meet up - losing track.


That scares the shit out of me - for example last time I went home was the first time it didn’t feel like actually going home - I mean that my village looked the same and everything but the faces in the pubs were all different - the pool table had other names on the board - the barman didn’t know I could run a tab - the juke box had none of the songs I wanted - the kids in the town I couldn’t recognise - simply turning up was no longer a guarantee you’d see the crew of old - and when you did there were new faces amongst them and I didn’t feel part of the loop anymore.


Even my folks place - my old room now belonged to my sister - they’d painted - bought new furniture - the cat has passed away - sold the car I used to drive - new neighbors in the street.


My favourite episode of the Simpson’s is a close run thing – they never fail to entertain no matter how many times I’ve seen them and if the older versions don’t appeal quite so much anymore, that’s only because the creators consistently raise the standards bar of animation, wit and ingenuity with each new episode.


Homer getting tripped out on fierce Chili juice was a classic, as was 22 short stories about Springfield, but for me, the one that I think stands out the most is where Homer goes to work for Megalomaniac Bond Villain Scorpio, moving the family to Scorpio’s new super tech town for Homer to work at his power station. There are so many little classic lines and scenarios that take place – for example the whole “Hammocks in the work place” thing and “HEY! Have you ever seen a man throw away his own shoe Homer!?” “ hehehe – yes once” – but the reason I mention is thus: when Homer explains that his family want to move back to Springfield, Scorpio asks “why?” And Homer replies “well lots of little things really..” and Scorpio replies: “ Ah well I can’t argue with that – it’s the little things that make up life”


He’s extraordinarily correct – it is indeed – and when Homer and the family go back Springfield is just the same as it always was - Moe’s is always his bar, lenny and carl are always at work, Apu always at the Kwik-e-mart and Mr.Burns will still never remember his name despite the fact anything remotely important that ever seems to happen to him involves Homer in some shape of form.


But people and places do change when you leave them - coming home to find its no longer home and then going back to a place you don’t call home either - just the place you live.


However today I was recovering from the night before (out bar and club hopping with the gorgeous Siebrian girl, her weird freaky boss who looks at me with worryingly loving eyes, Dutch Robin and my Russkie brother from another mother Andrey) - there was a knock on the door at around 1pm which meant I had to finally get up - I opened it to find a little man carrying a huge box of flowers - the note from Anna attached was from the little family of friends up in London wishing me happy birthday and telling me they missed me - got her parcel too with the Empire film Magazine limited edition, card and balloons and stuff - her note telling me how she was doing and what had been going on lately. It’s the little things that make up life.


I go way back with her and others back home - this last week or so in some way or another I spoke to Barnes, Coops, Cassie, Loomis, Gali, Bev, Fletch - maybe just a text or email in some cases - I know when ever I see them there will never be any awkward silences - no distance or lack of connection - we all move on to different places and may not share so many experiences together anymore, but we’ll always be there for each other where ever we are in the world and we’ll never lose touch - there’s friends and then there’s those few that you connect so strong with they are your family just as much as those with your blood - I’m lucky to have a few people like that - they are home for me - and I miss them

Spo | June 25, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Personal

June 24, 2005

Keeping your woman happy (and everyone else’s) by Mr.Noodle

The legend that is Mr.Noodle

The following is plucked from Nam tales which I documented in 2003/4 and will occiasionally update to here when I have hangover and am in need of posting inspiration.

Keeping your woman happy (and everyone else’s) by Mr.Noodle.

Road Trips “Nam style” were always entertaining affairs – The crew is usually the same, but the ever constant is myself and Tri and the unique Mr.Vho. who is our favourite driver and indeed quite a character. He is not only a Russian trained actor and singer, but also a traditional boxer here in Hanoi. He can dance the tango and the cha cha. He also has 11 girlfriends.

And a wife.

I write this and think that I could not come up with better fictional characters if I tried.

His English is fairly limited but he could chat away in russkie with comrade Vladimir fairly easily – I couldn’t place his age but imagine it to be around 40. He smokes just as much as Duong, classically commenting (via translation) that "smoking is easy to give up, I have done it hundreds of times...”

He and Duong educated me on a very common Vietnamese way of thinking, that of the attitude towards wives and girlfriends – based upon rice and noodles:

Simon (or as they pronounced at the beginning “Semen” ) you see the wife – she is like the rice – and when a man at home – he eat rice – but a man cannot have rice for every meal – just one flavour - so he must go out – and he has noodle said Duong with the slyest smug face I have ever seen

"Noodles many Flavour!” said Mr.Vho excitably

"he has many noodles" gestured Duong

when asked if he also had a fair few noodles, Duong said "something like that but not 11 – make you very tired."

Mr.Vho’s phone was a constant juke box during journeys as he, like many in the West, had a different ringtone for every “noodle”. At times humoressly not even bothering to look and answer before clicking the cancel button. Even better, as I started learning the lingo, I discovered that Pho’ means noodles and is more or less how you pronounce Mr.Vho's name. When we have to take another driver it is always a disappointment, as they aren’t really part of the family and Mr.Vho’s land rover is the sort of tank-like vehicle you need for getting about the Northern areas.

Unlike UK, closing off vast stretches of motorway moving at snails pace to complete necessary maintenance, Vietnam repairs roads as you drive – this means you have to find a way around the workers and wait for the JCB to finish its business before then trying to make it across the work in progress. This does lead to some rather hairy moments as the land rover teeters on the edge of makeshift wooden bridges and ploughs its way through Mud pits that are supposed to be alternative routes. It also means that workers can finish in quicker time, as roads are usually back the way folk intended within a month or so. However this just means that the construction moves down the hill and makes a mess of the next bit.

I’m a lucky boy in that to see as much of Vietnam as possible, you need time and money – not a lot of money I suppose – in relation to other parts of the world - but none the less if you hire a car and driver to travel all around the mountains hills and dales of Northern Vietnam, it may end up costing you quite a pretty penny to see it all. Then there is the aspect of how you know where to go? and what to do when you get there?

Having the likes of Tri and Duong around mean that you don’t need to worry about such things – The tea plantations are located at higher altitudes so you get to see images that will burn themselves upon your memory for ever - you should definitely see the evening dusk setting over the hills of Yen Bai with your own eyes – enough to bring the dead back to life.

Road trips mean long journey’s and therefore much banter – My Vietnamese improves and Mr.Vho keeps everyone entertained with his singing (when the song is a duet he humoressly attempts to sing the part of the girl in a Vietnamese chipmunk kinda way – actually this can be quite disconcerting at times). I try to give a mention to a few western CD’s but trying “Super Funky collection” caused a few furrowed brows to appear – guess it will take a little while longer before they appreciate the sheer funk genius of Stevie Wonders “Superstitious”. Slowly slowly catch a monkey.

As I explained, here in Vietnam there is the analogy of rice and noodles for wives and girlfriends – there are quite a number of ladies who are more than willing to love you long time (well an hour – erm.... not that I know) for $10 dollar - these ladies peddling their wares fit into a new category – that of “instant noodle”. Or as the crew call them “hostess” – they wanted the English translation for lady of the night and hooker and prostitute are such crude turns of phrase – therefore I went for hostess due to the amount of times that they come out with it – “look Hostess!!!” “Maybe she hostess!” etc

Later trips with Mr.Vho (Mr.Noodle) I aksed how he was keeping up with his 11 noodles (girlfriends). I now learn that this number has been reduced to 10 - when I asked him (via translation) for the reason, the reply was “Noodle past sell by date”. Legend.

Recent tales of Mr.Noodle are numerous – after work one day, he had the situation of two noodles waiting for him outside his garage – to avoid confrontation he scaled the wall out back and ran off up the road – just like Robin Askwith out of Adventures of a window cleaner. He also enlightened us with how it is that he manages to “cook” so many noodles at the same time – it’s all in the method and the magic brew apparently.

The Vho method involves “stirring” the noodle with your “spoon” slowly 7 times – then on the 8th ‘stir’ you do so quick and strong – then you go back to number 1 – very slow, until you reach 7 again, only this time there is no number 8 and on the 7th stir you move quick and strong. Basically you repeat and reduce in number down to stirring just once and then you go back up to 8 again – you do this until the noodle has, erm...reached boiling point. Cooking time? 1 and half hours is Mr.Noodles recipe for success – mix this up with some actual cooking, singing and dancing of the tango and you can make your lady a very tasty noodle......or something like that.

With 10 noodles all vying for attention, this can be quite tiring for a busy driver who also has a wife to contend with. Therefore he uses Mr.Noodles magic potion: consisting of two Goose eggs, Viet whisky and special Chinese herbs - this unique mix gives Mr.Vho the necessary will power to complete his many missions – judging by his now updated polyphonic jukebox mobiles frequent performances, his magic potion must be doing the trick – I do not, however, know whether it also gives him the “power of grey skull”.

There are things in this life you just don’t do – eating Chicken for breakfast is one, smoking on the toilet is another, letting Mr.Noodle anywhere near your girlfriend should also be added to the list - dangerous man – he offered to teach Hanh and myself how to dance the slow tango, as he says women like this very much indeed – he first said that he would teach us separately as this would be much easier – clocking what was going on bright and early, I explained that there was no way he was dancing with Ms.Hanh without my strict supervision – very dangerous man – he around noodle he will cook and leave you hungry.

One guy who should take a leaf from the vast anthology that is the Vho Noodle cook book is a compadre of Duongs – Duong explained that he was very good friends with both a man and his wife. His friend wanted some noodle time away from his wife so he told her he would be staying longer at a conference than he actually was. His wife had noticed that he had been very tired recently and that bedroom acrobatics had not been as frequent as usual – she also had picked up on a lot of little things – what these “things” exactly where Duong did not know:

“you know sometime the woman she know that something is not right but the man he is not aware – as long as he has his rice, his noodle, his beer, his tv...”

“Cigarettes?”

“yes cigarettes too..he a happy man – not complicated”

“but for woman?”

“woman complicated – some time, even myself, I do not know why a woman is angry”

“Duong, you speak the golden truth for all your fellow man”

Anyways, Duongs friend returned from his conference and spent some time living with one of his noodles – his wife, already a suspicious woman, rang his office and used a fake voice to get past the secretary (who had been told to screen the mans calls) once her husband picked up the line, she heard his voice and hung up – she knew he was in town and not at any conference.

Instead of screaming, shouting and generally going berserk (there’s a word) astonishingly she did nothing – or so it would seem. Three weeks later Duong met his friend for drinks – he looked terrible – totally exhausted – turned out that his wife had been demanding sex twice a day for the last 20 days and he couldn’t take it anymore. Consequently he couldn’t keep up with the demands of his noodles as well so now he only had his wife.

Clever woman - she can’t control his will, so she takes away his power - but if he'd known about Mr.Vho's magic potion he'd still be jumping.

Spo | June 24, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Vietnam

June 23, 2005

A seemingly insignificant turn of events….

It was a seemingly insignificant turn of events and even during their occurrence I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what was so strange about them - I picked up a pen, Iwan walked past with a kettle, the sun caught my eye through the window and the Russians were speaking their lingo over in the left of my vision..... it all felt so familiar for a second - I couldn’t say what was to come next - but I was feeling that what ever did wouldn’t come as a surprise - and then it passed - gone - the world was as before - my extra sensory perception had evaporated - all that remained was a feeling of being mildly spagged out and unsure of what had really passed....

Whales and Dolphins are believed to have an extra sense called “Bio-magnetism” which enables them to detect variations in the Earths magnetic field. Some scientists think that they use this like a map to find their way around. Their memory works not in the sort of filing/visual nature ours does, but in a way that allows them to register vibrations and automatically match them to a previous experience thus allowing them to recognise where they are straight away.....

....Sort of like really advanced mastery of De-Ja-Vu perhaps.....

If you have been smoking some of gods green finest......you mix that last paragraph or two with the concept of time and space along with our existence upon this earth and listening to Kruder and Dorfmeisters remix of bug powder dust.....you could very well be staring at the wall for a helluva long time not knowing what the fuck is going on…

....but feeling like you might have the answer if you just thought hard enough.....

Spo | June 23, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Kaneheads Kompanion | Personal

June 22, 2005

From Russia with Love….

Vladi told us that the visitors comprised of a man and a woman - the man wore yellow cords and bright green t-shirt - he looked like he just came from a sixties volleyball game and chess challenge after party - the woman was called Zarina - she was from Siberia - Vladi said that she might not live up to the standard of the women encountred during my Moscow experience - we thought she would be a cigar chomping husky russkie, marching through customs downing a bottle of vodka before she had to declare it - a shotputter of note - a woman who could pack a punch......

........she had been on a plane for 30 hours and she had the flu - she was one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen.....

she's a tea taster and we are taking her diving this weekend - I'm going to try and talk to her if I can remove my jaw from the floor - seriously - she would make a good dog break its leash.

Spo | June 22, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia

June 20, 2005

That’s what makes him super!

Well connected Rich businessman Aduguna Sutowo got sentenced to 7 years on Friday – New years day, this guy had pulled out a pistol and shot a barman in the head over an altercation as to whether a bill had been paid or not – he did it in full view of numerous witness’s in the main bar of the Hilton Hotel here in Jakarta – 7 years – and the reduced sentence is because judges considered a letter from the family of the victim supporting (yes supporting!) the accused!!!! Something’s not right there surely! They say common sense is not that common but Christ on a bike you’d think that anyone with a semblance of powerful influence looking at this would see there is something rotten and intervene! And Schapelle Corby gets 20 years for 4.1kgs of Mari-jo!


Good job Indonesia - a legal system so fucked up it makes Califiornia look level headed (MJ, OJ, Rodney King...it’s the place to go if you want to commit crime! almost impossible to get convicted! and it’s hot and sunny!)


Jakarta might indeed be a bit of corrupt shit hole but there are fantastic plus points to living out here as opposed to the western world – sure, most of this is based around the value of the western wage against the local currency – but the uncontrolled availability of pirate goods is another huge plus point. For under $1 you can buy a DVD or CD of any film/album you can think of from the vendors stalls based in the back of Ratu Plaza – sometimes they are shitty cinema camera jobs, sometimes the film gets all fecked up and stilted, sound and picture out of synch, frame freeze, stuff like that – but they always take back any dodgy ones and replace if they can – plus regular buyers always get the good advice for the girls behind the stalls – “ini Bagus?” “no meester, tidak bagus – very bad copy” – begging the question of why sell it in the first place I suppose, but then depending on the film you can sometimes put up with crappy stds.


I’m watching a lot of OZ and Without a Trace right now – my two latest discoveries from the very best of US TV – these follow the likes of buying box sets of the West Wing, Deadwood, Six Feet Under, The Sopranos, The Shield, 24, CSI, Boomtwon, Simpson’s, Alias…. With the box sets you can get much more sucked into the characters and stories than you would catching the odd weekly show – plus as far as the seller is concerned 6 disc box set = $6 – so you can take risks on stuff you might not like only to be surprised by how good it is and why you’ve never tapped into it before. What was I watching all those years the Soprano’s was on and I never really cared it existed!?! It’s the greatest TV pogramme ever made for gods sake! and it is now impossible to watch the antics of the US government without thinking that it all really does go on behind the scenes just like the West wing. I’d vote for Bartlett – even if he did lie about the MS thing.


Saturday was another classic night of loaf at Robin & Yvettes place – evening rolls around and wine starts flowing, barbecue hots up, good music from Death Cab for Cutie and Razor light and good friends shooting the breeze – well, shooting the humidity. The evening ended around 3 or 4am and we had moved on to destroying a bottle of Absolute – The Confederations cup was on and Robin and I argued about whether Patrick Viera should play for Senegal or France – a subject neither of us really care about in real life but under the influence of Vodka seemed willing to die for.


Earlier we could of watched Batman Begins, but decided to wait for the cinema release next week as it is looking like its going to be a damn fine film – The director of Memento is always going to bring something to the table, while if ever there was an actor that could do a decent job of giving suspension of disbelief to the whole idea of some rich guy being a dark brooding bit fucked up in the head vigilante dressed up as a bat and then Christian Bale is it. Besides we have luxury cinemas out here – complete with waiters, beer, lazy boy seats and blankets – when a film is worth seeing it is worth seeing in the true exalted loafdom that these cinemas provide.


I always used to argue with a good friend of mine, Darcy, that Batman was just a nutter in a suit and not a real superhero like Wolverine or the Silver surfer – the problem with this argument is that instead of being 10 years old, we had it when we were 18 and fiercely ruined on amphetamines sitting in a field somewhere – these arguments would get quite heated and animated at times –
“he can’t fucking fly and he has no super powers! you fucking asshole!”
“that’s what makes him super! you cuntbubble!”


– and so on – then we would see a deer or rabbit – get momentarily distracted and forget the subject of conversation – moving on to the many ways that Kylie Minogue is the finest woman on the planet and Matt Le Tissier the greatest footballer ever to grace the beautiful game (even if he was a bit lazy) – here we found agreement – but Batman was a sticking point forever more – maybe Batman Begins can finally convince me of Darcy’s convictions.

Spo | June 20, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia

June 17, 2005

Written my dream it would seem…

I had a cracking dream the other day – one of those lucid, vivid experiences were you wake and feel like you’ve been somewhere else the last few hours – the alternate waking reality of your sleeping self - and memories and emotions are still fresh as though you’ve just experienced them in the real world.


These feelings and memories quickly begin to fade within moments of awaking – your vessel of dreams shipwrecked on the shore, as shattered pieces of the wreckage slowly begin to sink – but if you grab a pen quick enough you can salvage something to tell you were you’ve been these last few hours.


From what I scribbled at 2 or 3am I could decipher the following:


I was on a spaceship orbiting earth that looked a bit like that hotel in Dubai that is shaped like a giant yacht sail – there was an almighty smash and another huge space station had crashed into it. I was running round circular corridors that had various different red numbered doorways dotted around the side – there were explosions and sparks everywhere but real no smoke and fire or other people for that matter and everything was white.


I was still quite calm and talking via some sort of intercom thingy (I guess) to my real life boss in Holland, Mr.Flip (he is a sort of tea obi wan kenobi) while I was looking for a way out – he was talking about something else and I was trying to be pleasant enough but get off the exploding space station at the same time – and then he noticed that everything was kicking off big time around me (I don’t know where he was – maybe on earth watching the whole thing on tv) and matter or factly said something along the lines of “well I think you better go now simon – probably time to get out of there – good luck – I know you can do it” which is a phrase he always uses when trying to get me to buy tea from people at prices they won’t possibly consider selling at.


Then I must of darted into one of the doors, as things really began to come apart and I remember being faced with a sort of revolving circular door like you have in hotels – but it looked like the inside of a film reel – it had something to do with running the power of the station I think – anyways I pushed the glass to make the spiral door motion spring into action and headed for the exit on the other side – and then lots of noise and spinning – and then I’m out the doorway and just like that I’m walking out of the backdoor of my garage back home in UK – and I can sort of remember thinking “what the fuck? Isn’t this my….” and then I continued up the side path and the back garden looked like a desolate wasteland as opposed to the mini jungle on a hill it currently represents – everything was sort of grey and silent.


I went in the back door, through to the kitchen and then into the living room feeling pretty span out – my mother sitting on the couch just looked up at me and started talking away like she only saw me five minutes ago – she looks at me and sees that I’m not really sure of what’s going on – and I look at her and ask her the date and she says “January 12th” and then I ask what year, “2006” she says and then with that I’m on my knees, then flat out lying back on the carpet, head in hands and I say “but today is….” and then my mother finishes my sentence for me in a sort of matter of fact kind of fashion “oh you think it’s….” I can’t remember/didn’t write down what date she said, but suffice to say I think the general idea was I’d gone into the future by about 5 or 6 years or so and this wasn’t surprise to her as the date she finished my sentence with was the one that of the space stations explosion.


After the space station exploded this apparently seriously fucked up the space time continuum and the general physics of the world as we know it – all manner of freaky shit happened on a day to day basis all over the place – for example my gran was sitting on the little couch by the front window but she wasn’t really there – it was an imprint of her image burned in time – your hand passed right through her – all the plant life dying out, people popping up out of nowhere, things seeming to be there yet not physically existing – all of it because of this almighty explosion in outer space all these years back.


So I’m dealing with this when none other than me walks into the room – and me is pretty excited to see me – while I am pretty shocked to see me – who for the purposes of this explanation will now be called future me – and from what I’ve scribbled, future me had been doing a proud old job of fucking up my relationships with people I cared about during the last six years or so since the space station blew up – and I can remember that I spoke to my friend Anna for example who had a new haircut and red ribbons in her hair – and she wasn’t best pleased with me – well wasn’t best pleased with future me in reality – but I tried to explain that future me had fucked everything up (the wee tyrant) and this didn’t get me anywhere as future me wasn’t there at the time and she thought I was future me – you see?…


So I can see from writing the above that it doesn’t make a lot of sense - it’s a dream so it wasn’t likely to - but the accidental time travel thing and a fucked world with new laws of physics along with meeting myself and then trying to right all the wrongs future me had made in the last 6 years – that has the basis of a story I could write – the forming of an idea that I could mould into the book I’ve always wanted to come up with someday.


So I told my friend Robin about it over beers and instead of frowning a lot and getting up and going to talk to someone else, he informed me that my dream sounded just like the book he was reading called the “Time Travelers Wife” by Audrey Niffenegger (great name) were in a guy gets a illness meaning he is always jumping around in time and meeting his future self and future wife (whom he doesn’t know is his wife) at various different points in existance. It’s apparently a bit of a quirky love story and doesn’t have any space stations and fucked up physics of the space time continuum but he says I’ve more or less dreamed the basis of the crux of the story. He’s going to lend it to me tmw.


So someone has more or less already written my dream it would seem


Bugger.

Spo | June 17, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Ojeni | Personal

June 17, 2005

Stamping on my soul….

I’m not sure I’m ever going to get over this – come through this – it’s too hard – every time I approach the subject there is still the belief that it’s going to turn out ok but every time it’s the same crushing disappointment over and over again – stamping on my soul and screaming failure two inches from my face.

It doesn’t matter which way I turn or what I do to avoid the same thing happening over and over again – I’m doomed – there must be a way past this – others have overcome it – but it’s been like this for months – I can’t remember a time when there was anything else apart from this feeling.

Sometimes there is a breakthrough – a feeling that new ground has been reached and an end is in sight – like we have an understanding after all this fighting – but just when you think you’re there another bolt from the blue knocks you sideways from a place you hadn’t considered and you are back to square one – my attempts to find a new approach rejected.

One day things will be okay again and I will get past this and I’ll believe that life can be more than a series of crushing disappointments.

Yes one day I will get past the end of level alien invasion whilst trying to escape the initial spaceship in “repel covenant borders” on nightmare level of Halo 2…..

Spo | June 17, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Film / TV / Music | Kaneheads Kompanion | Ojeni

June 16, 2005

Phoebe Cates was one hot cheeka!

When I was in Toronto last year I went to see the Maple leafs play Buffalo and realised that while the experience is quite an assault on the senses as far as advertising goes, there are some definite plus points over watching sports in the UK.


1) Violence - there was a guy called Tai Domi and he was a mean looking badass mofo - his purpose on the ice was to hurt other players - a fight broke out between two lesser players who kind of skated in circles and held onto each others arms for a bit - they eventually pusseyed out of actually going hell for leather and opted for what seemed to be a spot of groping and hugging - the crowd really hated this with a passion and they were ceremonially booed from the ice - even the referee looked disappointed as they took their place in the sin bin - the sin of not fighting properly was their crime and Mr.Domi was to show them the error of their ways.


Toronto were losing something like 6-3 and time was ticking down - Domi butted into some guy, downed sticks and went straight at it like gangbusters - two punches - proper full on jaw breakers and the other guy is down on the ice - but our man Domi is not finished yet - he goes for the kill and smacks him one more time - fist meets head meets ice - knocked the fuck out - carried from the ice by his team mates leaving a pool of blood behind. What did Domi do? skated the rink arms aloft!!!! the crowd cheered him like a king!!!! I’d never sen anything like it!! what did the ref do? absolutely bleeding nothing apart from pointing to the sin bin! - like this guy didn’t know where it was already!


Califargafuckinglistic!


In comparison when you see the diving and feigning injury that footballers (I cannot and will not ever refer to it as soccer) indulge in, it’s a bit embarrassing. Rugby makes up for it I guess, but it’s nothing compared to the fights in ice hockey. Violence in sport is also usually so unexpected and painful - like when people get hit in the face by the ball really hard or take a nasty fall and bust a bone the wrong way - it’s that cringing moment that makes the crowd collectively appreciate they are not on the receiving end. Never have I ever been more thankful that I was not on the receiving end of the sporting injury I had just witnessed as I was when I saw Tai Domi smack that guys head into the ice. God damn that must of hurt.


2) Hot women handing out really good food - in UK we have shitty cold over priced pies that allegedly contain some form of meat product - these are served to us through a hatch in a cold dungeon like surrounding by a woman covered in tattoo’s who looks like she could beat the shit out of you - in America they have hot 19 year old women running round with keypads delivering numerous munch worthy items like pizza and hot dogs to your seat while you watch the game.


3) Cheerleaders - not with ice hockey obviously, but in general this is a brilliant idea that I’m gravely disappointed our sports have not managed to properly embrace it. Beautiful women in tight clothing jumping up and down - the pure divine simplicity of the idea is astounding.


But after these areas, there still isn’t enough to suck me in - although it’s fast and furious there is too much coming and going of players - not enough tension in the game - too many time outs that seem designed for adverts and making people in the audience kiss each other in front of everyone else on the big screen (try that in UK! desperate people get married on the field at half time on occasion and the crowd sings “you don’t know what you’re doing” and “does she take it up the arse?” at them - every girls dream) - it also didn’t seem like the players really gave a shit about the score - like it wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to them to lose in front of the fans that love the team they play for.


I think that a large part of sports popularity is that it is ingrained in the culture you grow up in from an early age - not just the watching or the playing of the game itself, but everything that surrounds it - not ness-sir-celery all the hype, the media talk, the gossip, the personalities and the merchandise - but the binding elements that mean that everyone will have an opinion and the subject can cross social classes/race/country even language - when I got stuck in Mozambique and couldn’t speak Portuguese and the people I was with couldn’t speak English we could communicate through the names of football players, teams, scores and events like the world cup final.


You’ve got the good times and bad times that you share in collective unison with friends, family and complete strangers - when victory or defeat can bring mass elation or misery to millions all at once.


And sport also usually provides excellent reasons to meet up with friends and get wasted as well.


So these things will be true for everyone attached to the sport they care about in their respective country - I’m probably never going to get into Baseball, American football or Ice Hockey as much as USA/Canada is never likely to truly embrace football, rugby or cricket - the two cultures are intertwined with the sports they love and those respective games seem destined to remain on opposite sides of the Atlantic.


However I am getting into basketball due to the finals being played on ESPN here in Asia and there is no football at the moment. I couldn’t ever see the hook with basketball as I figured that one of the things about football that makes it so special, is that you invest all that concentration and time into a building of tension between goals - when a goal is scored there is an explosion of pent up emotion - like having sex with a woman for 30 mins instead of 5 - see Train-spotting when Renton says ”that was nearly as good as when Archie Gemmil scored against Holland in 1979” - with basketball though, balls going in the hoop every few of minutes would lose their attraction after you’ve cheered for the 30th time in 40 minutes.


Or so I’ve always thought - now I appreciate it’s like piece of elastic and both teams are at either end - the further apart the score gets the more the team doing the stretching is likely to break the elastic in their favour - this doesn’t make for great entertainment if it’s a white wash but with the fact that it takes only a matter of seconds to go from defence at one end, to attack at the other, there is always that chance your team can come back from being 10 or 12 points down even when there is only a few minutes on the clock - the tension builds right up to the final quarter and if it’s still close by few points when you get to the last minute then it is really white knuckle stuff.


All those individual baskets don’t mean half as much as if your team scores, makes a steal and then scores again without reply - then the gap is getting bigger and the elastic is getting thinner in the middle - that second basket is the money shot.


So it’s growing on me - and out here they’ve got the coverage to keep up with it as well - I want the Pistons to win because I remember them playing the Chicago Bulls when I was in Florida on holiday back when I was 14.


One thing though - every time I watch basketball I can’t get that song out of my head from the end of Teen Wolf - you know the one - that power-rock-casio-synth-shoulder-pad-big-hair number with the chorus that has somebodies dad wailing “Wiiiiinnnnnn in the end!!! you’ve got to win in the end! Wiiiiinnnn....” etc etc - Michael J Fox looking every inch the weediest little sweaty punk this world has ever seen, Hi-fiving it with that blubbering chunky guy as they turn the tables and prove they don’t need the wolf after all - be yourself and you’ll win in the end - what a crock of shit - if ever there were two of the most unlikely basketball players to step foot on a court - chunky butler and Marty McFly - imagine them against the Pistons! no fucking way!


But you believe they can do it because of that chessey bag of 80’s synth shite playing in the background.


I fell off the bonnet of my mates moving car pretending I was teen wolf. I loved the way everyone reacted when he changed into this freak of nature – a possibly dangerous carnivorous man eater – a creature of famed myth and legend – who’s very existence could throw the belief system of society into chaos – something the government would want to capture and study in some Area 51 style base and make wolf soldiers from his genes - but wait! He can play ball! Forget everything! Don’t call the men in white coats!


This hairy bastard is going to win us the championship! God damn it!


“Give…. Me ….. a keg….. of beer”

And that Pamela girl wanted to fuck his hairy ass big time – no questions asked – no consideration of how all that hair might kinda make her feel like she was making out with the neighbors dog or what their kids were gonna look like – she wanted puppy love doggy-style from the wolf man. Oh yeah!


Yet there was some seriously dark evil shit going on in the background of Teen Wolf – not Styles weird freaky friend who never liked Scotty again once he turned into the wolf man - I’m talking about the father and the headmaster – he killed Scotty’s dads wife with a shotgun! And they still live in the same town! No recriminations after all these years! Scotty’s dad is gonna get medieval on that guy as one day – do an American werewolf in London up on the moors number on his ass! Imagine that – your teacher blows your mums head off with a shotgun and laughs about it to your father when ever they meet – ok there’s circumstances here what with being a werewolf and everything - but still – that’s a bitter pill to swallow for any man or beast.


Christ on a bike – it’s nearly 9pm – this post really has gone in a slightly off centre direction from were it started……


Hmmmm….. Phoebe Cates as Poof – damn that was one hot cheeka!

Spo | June 16, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Film / TV / Music | Kaneheads Kompanion | Ojeni | Personal

June 16, 2005

Getting home, magic house and the next Jack

I got home late yesterday and found magic apartment was all set up for loafing - I live just up the road from the office and if you get the right time of the day and the right break for a short cut, it takes 10 mins to get back – although some days it can take 45mins - and there is never a reason for the mayhem - it's just Jakarta.

One thing is for sure you can't drive like a normal person - on the toll road a guy undertook me yesterday at 90km or so on the hard shoulder while I was indicating to turn left off at the next upcoming exit - I had seen him coming as I've gotten used to checking for these things, but I doubt the average Jakartan is as wily. This is not to say I am a good driver in any way - it's just that I have good survival instincts if a little clumsy - as far as driving goes I don't think I've ever parked properly in 10 years and there are some people who will simply not get in the car with me - of course in Jakarta I fit right in.

Motorbikes are the worst as any doofus can get hold of one - you see kids of like 12 or so driving around the kampung areas (narrow warren like housing estates crammed into what ever space is available) - most of the cars on the road are hoofing great Toyota Kejan things and whilst driving the bikes buzz round you like flies on a wildebeest - there is usually so much going on with other cars, satanic bus drivers and numerous other random hazards that you don't pay attention to the bikes - they just have to look after themselves and hope they don't get in your way. I’ve seen some nasty accidents since getting here, but they don’t happen with the regularity they used to in Hanoi. In Nam every single person has a bike (with no helmet) due to cheap china imports and the introduction of credit 3-4 years ago - also no one really has a license and more or less teach themselves.

They all have a sort of fucked up sixth sense to tell were everyone is on the road and beep their horns all the time to help tell other riders when they change lanes. The government decided that it should be illegal to ride without a helmet and didn't give much in the way of notice - everyone rushed out to buy one and then accidents went up because no-one could really hear the horns anymore (they sound like road runner) - the government abolished it and everyone went back to wearing caps.

What usually happens in Jakarta gridlock is that you have a steady congested stream of bikes weaving their way down the side of the stagnant traffic - they use what ever space is available including the pavements – and when the average bear wants to get in or out, instead of indicating and winding down the window waving your hand left and slowly edging out bit by bit, you just pull out at a steady pace with no stopping and expect bikes to deal with it - it's not like either of you are traveling at any kind of speed, so you won’t send any of them over the bonnet – they just stream round you or bump into the tires – and nobody ever complains – just the way it is - as to do otherwise will mean sitting there hoping for a break that never comes - your sanity will slowly dissipate into the multicolored hazy evening fog of pollution that settles above this groaning mass of convoluted chaos known as Jakarta.

Once back in the den of loaf overlooking the city, I arrive to find the place cleaned, clothes washed and ironed, shopping done and dinner cooked – it is a magic apartment – or so it would seem – there is a little old woman called Neh-neh who appears after I leave for work and goes before I return – she doesn’t speak much English and I don’t speak much Bahasa but the times we do bump into each other we manage to communicate through a variety of grins, hand movements and head nodding. She says “this one here apa ini here this one so this one juga bisa this one” a lot and I generally nod and agree and then see what happens and determine if it should continue.

My Liverpool shirt blew over the balcony once and I couldn’t figure out were on earth it’d got to – I know those shirts are popular over here (real ones) but I still didn’t think she stole it as despite not understanding what she says, I can tell she is an inherently decent individual – I figured I had left it at Robin’s or at the gym. She worried about it all week though as she thought I thought she'd stolen it, you see. So after some extensive Miss Marple style investigative jiggery-pokery she eventually found it had blown down onto someone else’s balcony on a lower floor and she went and retrieved it. I'm on floor 14 so that's a fair bit of trial and error - top work you wee gobbldigook talking bundle of genius – she’s fantastic – she cooks spaghetti Bolognese every other day unless you tell her not to, hides things were I can’t find them like the remote and I think she wears my socks but her job is always safe as long as I am here.

I loafed out in the lazy boy (bought with the winnings from betting on Liverpool winning the champions league – which they did on penalties s after being 3-0 down and getting it back to 3-3 in the greatest final I’ve ever seen – I thought I’d only put a tenner at 11-1 on back in March and then later on checked the website and found I’d actually put 25 – grinning like the Cheshire Cat on coke I was) and flicked on the TV Cinemax was half way through one of the harshest war movies I’ve ever seen – "When trumpets fade" is a bit of a buffty title, but the film itself really makes you appreciate how lucky you are that you will never (hopefully) have to experience anything like trench warfare – it just seemed that it didn’t matter how much training people had or what precautions they took, they had just as much chance of being blown to smithereens as anyone else – strong stuff - like the beginning of saving private Ryan but much longer and more punishing.

Good actors too, notably Martin Donovan, Ron Eldard & Timothy Olyphant – who I think is gonna be a big star after watching HBO’s Deadwood – you’ll know him when you see him – he’s the cool but a bit evil dealer guy from “The girl next door” and “Go” – got a Jack Nicholson thing going on, mark my words.

Spo | June 16, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Film / TV / Music

June 14, 2005

“Fevered ego’s tainting our collective unconscious…”

I'm just trying to rid the world of these fevered ego's that are tainting our collective unconscious and making us pay a higher psychic price than we need to"

Bill Hicks - after explaining the theory behind his idea for a T.V show "lets all hunt and kill Billy Ray Cyrus" to be followed the next season by "lets all hunt and kill Michael Bolton"

"each week we unleash the hounds of hell and chase that no talent cracker asshole all over the globe until we catch him by the fruity little pony tail of his and stick a shot gun in his mouth...."

I so wish he was still with us to comment on the circus freak fiasco that is the Michael Jackson trial - who I woke up to find was acquitted today (I hope the same collective world forehead slapping and exclamation of "doh!" union that took place when Bush got re-elected, is happening again when they see this headline).

Finally the whole sordid seedy spectacle can be removed from the headlines and the rat faced spindly ghost man child can retreat to which ever cave he sees fit and that will be the last we hear of him. I didn't follow this story into all the grisly details but it kept on cropping up every so often on the news and what I understood was this: he is a very troubled guy who probably shouldn’t be anywhere near kids and all the people accusing him were money grabbing publicity hounds who sacrificed any truth they might have been preaching in the chase for the almighty dollar. By the bells of St Christopher, even the jurors are working on book/movie/TV deals!

Overall the celebrity phenomenon engulfed all of them and nobody can walk away from this with any dignity or self respect.

All I hope for is that any kid who gets invited to Never land in the future has parents who have the good sense to turn down the offer and that any of the people involved with the trial - be they witness, juror, lawyer or security guard - doesn't make a penny.

And also that the sight of him getting into his limo and being driven from the court house is the last we see of Michael Jackson.

But in this world, what are the chances of that happening?

The Thriller album is still Califragafunkinglistic though

Spo | June 14, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Film / TV / Music

June 14, 2005

Indonesian president’s phone plan backfires

A bid by Indonesia's first directly elected president to be closer to his people backfired over the weekend - he publicised his mobile phone number and thousands of calls promptly crashed the line.

As soon as Mr Yudhoyono gave out his number - +62 811 109 949 for those outside Indonesia - the media started broadcasting it nationwide. Within minutes the presidential mobile was inundated with calls and text messages, and by yesterday morning the flood of complaints had become so great that the service was overwhelmed

"The number is now clogged and cannot be used anymore. The president said there should be five more numbers, but we need to install a new computerised system first" Presidential spokesman Andi Mallarangeng

In his infinite wisdom good ol Bambang (sounds like a Flinstones kid doesn't he? the last one was called Megawati which sounded like a transformer) invited the nation to text msg him if they had a problem - this is Indonesia - everyone has a problem....

Spo | June 14, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia

June 13, 2005

Tea Taster by day - Monkey Catcher by night….

Friday was a classic night in the realms of debauchery and ruinedness - Jakartan nightlife makes up for it's lack of class with good quantities of loud music, cheap alcohol and fast women - and that's always a good thing every once in a while. To a point.

The area known as Blok M has a seedy collection of dens of iniquity wherein sultry vixens head for the nearest bulging wallet and display no concern as to who the owner is. This is the kind of place where a womans opening line of conversation is often "look at this" and then she proceeds to show you her "portfolio" of pictures saved to her mobile phone.

Real relationship material - "so how did you two meet?" .... "erm.... why not show them honey!"

The above is the reason that many say that Jakarta is a carefree young mans dream - in fact it is more of a carefree old mans dream - and carefree means lack of dignity and respect in many cases - although there are tales to be told of older guys getting together with girls young enough to be their daughter and living happily ever after - Young Indonesian women first and foremost want financial security and someone to treat them right - older guys want to recapture their youth and perk up retirement - neither of them are hurting anyone, so generally, good luck to them.

For me, while no saint, I can't see how you can be happy that a girl is going home with you for reasons other than who you are - she's looking at the clock (yes I said clock) and thinking of the money and the guys trying not to notice the bored look in her eye, realising he would be feeling pretty ashamed of himself if he wasn't so drunk. There's not a lot of good that comes out of these situations.

Friday we didn't end up in Blok M - we ended up in BATS - a high class night club which, as you descend the stairway, reminds you of an upscale Titty Twister from Dusk til Dawn. BATS has its fair share of vampires, but its not all below board - they've got good live music, fast service and prices in level with bars of London and Hong Kong. They don't water down the spirits and it might very well be the head-office of the "hot chick community".

I was telling my friend that if you remove vital words from James Bond films and replace them with "Potato" how much you laugh its a good way to determine how drunk you are. "The man with the Golden potato" I said and he promptly burst into laughter and his drink went up his nose which really fucked him up for a while. At this point the girl behind us leaned in and said "The spy who loved potatoes" which surprised the shit out of me for two reasons - 1) such a comment suggested she had character - something so often lacking in these kind of situations at 2am 2) she was from Indonesia and she knew James Bond movie titles well enough to see the drunken humor in adding potato to them.

Her name was Amerie and I don't mind telling you that we had mucky drunken monkey bedroom acrobatics later on that evening/morning. God damn it.

Then the next day I honored my promise to attend 11am Bahasa lessons with the religious well meaning hamster man who tries to teach me the local lingo. Afterwards I went to the Gym despite feeling like a washed up drunken otter who had been swimming in Vodka all night and then put in an oven for an hour or so. I have to go the gym because otherwise I will one day end up being bigger than the moon. I am not one of those people that can get away with not paying any attention to staying on the planet – if I don’t at least try to follow the rules of healthy living I won’t last very long – and after too long paying no attention while enjoying the fruits of Vietnam, I’m now getting my comeuppance - but I’m slowly making progress and now can run for 20 minutes without wanting to be shot at the end of it – which is a massive improvement on January when I started going with any conviction.

Anyways – a Saturday of suffering, but suffering with a wicked look of satisfaction hidden at the back of my eyes, passed to evening when I watched the Station Agent which starred a dwarf version of Russell Crowe, the hippy crazy sister from Six feet under and a kind hearted stoner who runs a hotdog van. One of the best films I’ve seen in a very, very long time – I think the message I took from it was that you might think you have problems and that the world revolves around you sometimes - but if you pay attention, you’ll realise there are other decent people in the world with their own shit to deal with, so true friends will be there for you but you’ve got to be there for them in return. The station agent never lets anyone into his life thinking everyone is either being kind to him out of sympathy or can’t wait to make a joke out of his appearance – but once he moves to a new town he gradually lets his guard down and well…. Shit! watch the movie! It’s a quiet, decent minded story about what’s good in life and the value friendship – I hope that doesn’t sound like it sucks too much – like one of Robin Williams man-child pictures “he was a mentally handicapped Russian robot tramp who just wanted to learn the meaning of love and friendship” – that man can be so slapworthy at times.

So when Sunday came around and another dose of torture in the gym finally killed me off – I returned to my humble abode and sank into my lazy boy chair and read the UK Sunday times while listening to Coldplays new album – which after a bit of whining & organ grinding, grows on you until you realise it’s genius. I cancelled the rest of the day from this point onwards.

The best part of the Sunday Times is the awards of the week section – this week there was an award for the fool who stole a bottle of brandy in Buffalo, dropped it, ran off and then got arrested when he later returned to drink the puddle with a straw – there was another for the 19 stone Russian woman who sat on an armed robber until the police arrived – Japanese people who made clothes for chickens also received similar kudos - finally there was one for the young counciller running for mayor in San Antonio called Julian Castro. He lost out 49% to 51% when it was revealed that he got his twin brother Joaquin to stand in for him at some flag-waving-happy-clappy Texas river parade while he attended an important campaign meeting instead (brilliant! I’d of voted for him, not against him!

I also learned that the state of Florida has encountered a 25% rise in birth rates after the succession of tornado’s and hurricanes that swept across it 9 months ago led to folk staying in doors with no electricity, lots of candles and an urge to do what comes naturally.

After loafing in my impossibly comfortable chair for far longer than is socially acceptable, I decided that although I greatly enjoyed my Friday nights cavalcade of sin, I must not succumb to the devilish temptation to do it every weekend – so I have decided to rescue monkeys instead.

Yes - rescue monkeys in Indonesia - I saw an article in the Jakarta post and these folk get phone calls about Monkeys being ill treated or abused around Jakarta and then they go and catch and rescue them - they bring them back to health and release them on a special private monkey island tagged with micro chips to make sure they don't get into any more trouble.

At the moment I've told them that I'm free at weekends and have a car to knock about in if they need extra transport - I know computers, will work for free and love monkeys (doesn't everyone?) so I might be of some use to them - and if not I'll adopt one of the little buggers as these folk are doing a stand up job in difficult conditions.

But if they do let me help out then I will want some sort of uniform and a mask - and possibly a monkey catching super hero moniker to which I must always be referred - something like "Simian the Brave" or "The Brother of Bonobo".....

Oh and there are two girls that run the show here in Jakarta, one Spanish and one Dutch, and they indeed might be described as being members of the hot chick community.

What? I'm doing it for the monkeys!

Honest Guvnor....

Spo | June 13, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia

June 10, 2005

We’ll always have Hanoi….

So girl in Vietnam thing - yes - well - you see - its complicated is what it is - messy cross culture Mcguffin with arranged marriages and having to make decisions too quickly that I'd like to have had more time to ponder on - and there's an army colonel and his dying parents to consider as well. Let me explain:

When I arrived in Nam back in May 2003, I had to set up an office from scratch to handle sourcing tea samples and all the admin that came with the contracts that hopefully followed. I was trying to develop sales of the black and green harsh tasting cack that Vietnam tea resembles - this involved lots of trial and error and more than a bit of traveling to grubby broken factories holed up in the back and beyond of Northern Vietnam. Once we arrived at these factories we set about seeing what potential could be wrung from them as far as making half drinkable cheap tea went. Then we had to offer out samples of what we found to buyers around the world, persuading them that it could be blended/hidden with better stuff from other countries to reduce the overall price of cuppas.

Now then, one such private tea producing company was high up on my initial list of places to check out as they had a fairly extensive factory and plantation area and upon first tasting their tea was mildly less poisonous than most of the others I'd been subjected to. Once I arrived I met a crazy old noisy director who broke wind mid-sentence and didn't acknowledge it several times during our first meeting.

As further meetings took place over the next couple of years, I understood that as well as regular flatulence, her other main features were: maintaining she is right at all times, saying yes to everything you propose even if she knows it is blatantly not possible and refusing to discuss realistic prices which she will always need 10cts more than you are actually prepared to pay (which doesn't sound a lot but that's per kilo and there's shabillions of kilos - well, thousands anyway). Basically during discussions she never lets you (via translation) get a word in edgeways and talks nonsense for hours. She was always covered in jewelry and reminded me of a Vietnamese Tina Turner out of Mad Max 3. I liked her immensely even though she often drove me insane and made my life much more difficult than it needed to be.

The Mad Bint also had a translator called Hanh, who was mighty fine in many ways and lived in Hanoi running the representative office for the factory based in the hills (Aha! hope you weren't thinking that I was going to tell you I was actually in love with the crazy old bint!!). The good thing about dealing with the crazy woman was that you got to go see Hanh I liked her in a very different way to the way I liked her Director, even though she also often drove me insane and made my life much more difficult than it needed to be.

The first time I was introduced to Hanh I blathered on in a typically English way that we should have lunch so we could get to know each other as we'd hopefully be doing a bit of business in the future. She looked shocked but in a good way and exclaimed that I "move very quickly" - something which I am famously useless for doing the exact opposite of when it comes to women - I immediately slipped into useless foppish gibberish and tried to dig myself out of the hole I was in - famously explaining that "no! no! sorry - I wasn't trying to... you know.. I mean not that I wouldn't .... well what I mean to say is that I was asking you out for a discussion about business..... not because I thought you were good looking.... not that I don't think that you are good looking.. which you are of course... but that's not what I meant .... so lunch then?" - I had said all this in a an embarrassed hectic fluster in front of a room of people during a meeting (although most of them couldn't understand me, I think they got the general gist that I was making a twat out of myself) and Hanh thought I was amusing enough if more than a little strange and agreed.

Hanh is fantastic – Spiky, opinionated, witty, devious and lusciously curvaceous in all the right places, she has a million bags and shoes and a million combinations for these. She says she can’t dance but she does when she thinks no one is watching - until she met me she had never had pizza and now loves it much more than she will ever admit - she never wants people to think she has not eaten all her food so she subtly hides on other peoples sitting around her - she loves monkeys - she talks absolute nonsense in her sleep - she teaches English after she finishes work -she drives her motorbike very, very, very fast and talks on her mobile phone while doing it - she picks up other peoples children and kisses them which I’ve told her she shouldn’t do if she doesn’t know them very well - she has a brown jumper which makes her look good enough to eat - she had never seen Pulp Fiction and after doing so thought it was genius and but admitted that she wanted to go and get a $5 shake as soon as possible before we could do anything else - she is very intuitive about folk and not often wrong - she can speak Chinese and Japanese and sounds very funny when she does - she cannot swim but would like to learn - she read the books of the God father series and then we watched the whole trilogy in one day and ordered nothing but take-away pizza - she loved reading the curious incident of the dog in the night time and that the boy says things like “make a wee” - she watches terrible Korean soap operas - she can really sing - she cheats at cards - she likes to listen to Jennifer Lopez and Metallica but not at the same time - she lets me watch the football - she gets drunk after one glass of wine - she bites – yes she’s a biter - she also does not know her own strength - she seams obsessed with her hair - she must bargain for everything - she has brown eyes you could happily drown in - she has a wicked sense of humor and once laughed at a noisy child who fell over - finally, she has a very, very good heart.

So why am I not living with her now? Well I realise I probably should be, especially after writing that last monster of a paragraph (rule of ones own writing – thou shalt write however one bloody well likes). We were together for 18 months pretty much from when I arrived until I left in December last year - out of the blue I was offered the a job Indonesia last September and up until then we had been seeing each other every weekend and a few times during the week. We also did business together (which caused a few arguments as we are both stubborn mules at times) as she worked for a producer and I was the buyer. However her family and friends did not know about the relationship and she is a very traditional girl, so dating a foreigner is still mildly controversial stuff although not so much that it could never be accepted – it just had to be going somewhere – and that place was marriage.

Long story short of it is this – up until September last year I was expecting to be in Vietnam for a year or two longer, during which time I figured this would sort itself out and I could happily drift along as I had been so far and one day soon, make some sort of commitment. This does make me sound like the typical kind of guy that infuriates women across the planet in every culture, I know. However there are reasons behind this – an 18 month relationship it may have been, but how serious can you take it when neither of you know your future plans, I don’t exist as far as anyone else in her life goes and as she looks after her 73 year old aunt in Hanoi she has never stayed over at my house – seeing each other on average twice a week usually at weekends. Casual was how I looked at it – Work meant I was always likely to move on at some point and up until maybe March 2004 things hadn’t been very serious.

I sound like I’m trying to justify myself in court actually – I’ll try and be a bit more honest – I chose not to think about making any serious commitment and then when the bolt from the blue came in September I basically said that I’d leave, get settled in Jakarta, she’d come visit a few times in the first 6 months and then if she was happy here and things were still strong, she’d come and live with me – and yes, I knew that was the whole shebang of marriage, kids & commitment forever more.

Fairly reasonable I thought – it would be a huge thing for her - she would have to give up everything that made up her day to day life and jump into a new country and culture and hopefully swim – sometimes without me as I have to do the same thing as well as getting my head round the work side of things (hence the suggested 6 month settling in period) – although granted I am a bit more used to pitching up and getting on with things as best I can as that is part of the job I do.

So what happened? Secretive culture clash arranged marriage nonsense! That’s what happened!

Yes that’s right - Secretive culture clash arranged marriage nonsense! – that old pebble in the shoe!

So apparently it is very unlucky to be married during your 25th year and under the Lunar calendar (absolute McGuffin) that is what Hanh would of entered once Tet kicked off in Feb 2005 (same as Chinese new year) so ergo (ergo - sounds like a word that means ”therefore” but shorter – don’t know what it means other than that though) so, yes, ergo her family in the coastal city of Haiphong and the close family friends who have always looked after Hanh in Hanoi, decided that she would marry their son – a 37 year old Vietnamese army colonel who she has always been friends with. But importantly – not in love with.

I got told all this within the month that I was about to leave – turning things upside down somewhat – make or break time – "do or do not there is no try" – "that’s no moon it’s a space station" – etc etc – The whole me getting settled and then her visiting and seeing how we felt thing was not going to work – it was get married now or she has to go down a different path and that was that – and in the end I was not confident that it would work, it could of very easily been a nightmare – she could have been desperately unhappy and unable to settle, living together had never been tested and I didn’t think I could handle this and the new job/country – plus getting married is a fairly huge decision and I had to be sure I was really in love with the girl rather than just feeling she was fantastic company and great in bed. I wasn't sure. (I read that last sentence back incredulously – slapping my head in a Homer Simpson tribute of “doh!” – fantastic company and great in bed and I didn’t bring her with me! more evidence that I am an idiot!)

And yes there was the girl in the UK thing and also many other girls that I felt understood me better than Hanh did – you share the same wavelength when you are from similar backgrounds/cultures/lingo – but what do you expect right? She’s Vietnamese and I’m English – of course you aren’t going to totally get it each other all the time – part of the attraction is the difference. Never the less – I let it go – I spoke to a lot of close friends about it and in the end the decision rested with me, but by and large everyone told me I had to be 100% about this – if it went wrong it wasn’t easily fixed – far more so than in the western world.

So there it is – I’m here and kinda wishing I chose to go for it and did a Mrs.Robinson banging on the church windows thing – she’s there and having to work her socks off looking after her new husbands infirm parents, while he is never home – we’d be better off together I can see that now – but hindsight is a wonderful thing isn’t it?

We are still talking all the time and I’m helping her out with money to pay for a house keeper to look after the old folks as her husband isn’t doing anything and she can’t do it all on her own. If she can get away for a while I’ll go there in July or August – but we’ll see how things go. There is a chance that we could just fly off together after she talks to her family and gets a divorce – but it’s more likely we stay in touch where ever life takes us and just look back on a really good 18 months and that we were lucky to have that if nothing else.

A harsh lesson in life and if such an opportunity comes up elsewhere upon my travels I'll not let it slip by like I have this.

Spo | June 10, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Vietnam | Personal

June 8, 2005

These aren’t the droids you’re looking for….move along….

I'm still without my beloved laptop ( "he's called pedro - he's my mule") and therefore having to work from this cantankerous monstrosity desktop that packs up every five minutes and does the exact opposite of everything you tell it to do. It only has windows 98 so I have no access to any of my back up files and all the settings are wrong for email and internet etc - it feels like I'm wading through gloopy honey every time I ask it to do anything. It's a huge yellow electronic monster sent from the depths of hell to make my life a misery.

The computer equivalent of accidentally shooting someone in the head (dead laptop), drenching yourself in blood and brain (must work, can't work) and subsequently having to borrow a geeky large fore headed friends old clothes - necessary yet uncomfortable, out of fashion, buttons and pockets aren't where you are used to having them and can't wait to change into something else.

Anyways - point of the above is that I can't gibber long as I want to go home and am limited in what I can write due to the fact this infernal machine could lose it all any minute.

So the thing that bothered me today, (apart from being accused late yesterday evening of fecking up big time at verk, worrying about it all night and then finding it was because the fellow on the other side of the world simply doesn’t have the date settings on his computer arranged correctly…. Why I oughta….) was that lately this country and Australia have been at each others throats over the case of Schapelle Corby – the surfer girl who, upon arrival in Bali, was found to have 4.1kgs of Mari-jo in her bag and no way of explaining how it got there.

Basically both sides have been engaged in a verbal barrage ever since she was convicted by an Indonesian court and sentenced to 20 years. The daily English language Jakarta post has had numerous articles detailing the views of both sides and all sorts of nonsense has taken place along the lines of minute by minute national television coverage in Oz, hoax anthrax letters to Indo embassies and protests in the street here in Jakarta demanding the death penalty. The arguments continue in the form of letters printed in the paper – one day the Aussies call the Indo’s corrupt fools with no common sense who shall never see them set foot in Bali ever again – the next the Indo’s call the Aussies arrogant drug peddlers who have a racist immigration policy – and so it goes on… and on … and on.

There are many, many reasons to suggest the poor girls not guilty and there are many things wrong with the way the trial was organised (a judge who has never set an accused free in over 500 drug cases and is quite “proud” of the fact, for example). There is also the stark inability on the side of the defense to provide solid proof of how the 4.1kgs or Marijuana got in the girls surf bag.

However what has never been accurately answered by ANYONE covering this trial and those claiming she deserves all she gets, is this:

WHY WOULD YOU BUY 4.1KGS OF MARIJUANA IN A COUNTRY WHERE, IN COMPARISON TO THE PLACE OF ARREST, IT IS MORE EXPENSIVE TO PURCHASE AND THE LAW IS FAR MORE RELAXED ON POSSESSION - AND THEN - TAKE IT TO A COUNTRY WHERE IT IS CONSIDERABLY CHEAPER AND MORE WIDELY AVAILABLE BUT HAS TOUGHER SENTENCING IF CAUGHT WITH IT ANYWHERE NEAR YOUR PERSON?????!!!!!!!!!!!!!

She can’t of possibly been trying to sell it, she can’t possibly of been intending to smoke all of it herself (average joint 0.5grams) and if it was to share with others then they would just buy it from one of the many, many, many, many little men that seemingly cover every street corner of Kuta trying to get you to buy the stuff (and everything else under the sun – I ended up with a goddamn Bow and Arrow last visit- what will I ever need that for!!! Salesman’s dream sometimes me). Fundamentally this is the main reason that it makes no sense – there is no personal or monetary advantage to bringing that kind of quantity from Oz to Bali – No stoner, no matter how wasted, would think this is a good idea – let alone anyone looking to make money from it (as such a quantity suggests) - yet what could have been a polite discussion between embassies, got turned into a media circus and then in true Indonesian fashion, pride and bureaucracy comes before basic bloody common sense and they shut up shop on further discussion - then the Aussies start flinging even more fuel on the fire, plastering it over every media network going and putting it alongside the rest of the worlds headlines.

You can come to agreement on common sense issues here in Indonesia – you just have to handle it in the right way and make sure no one loses any face over the matter – as long as you get what you want out of the situation, it does you no harm to tell them they're right and let them have their cake and eat it – as you will NEVER convince them any other way – If you lie and say, “yes she was a silly girl and we want to take her back for rehabilitation and lets not mention this to anyone” and then let them go away thinking they are the masters in the right and as soon as they are back in Oz, set her free and forget about the whole thing, you’d have a situation were everyone is happy (well, folk get what they want perhaps, if not exactly happy) – she carries on with her life and buys a lock for her surf bag vowing never to go back to Bali - and the Indonesians carry on living in blissful ignorance, thinking they were in the right all along and congratulating themselves on the wonderful outdated, nonsensical, bureaucratic load of old bollocks they call their legal system.

But the moment the Oz press set fire to the issue and put it in the spotlight to the point that my 88 year old Grandmother back in Uk probably knows who Schapelle Corby is, a grandmother who can’t remember my name half the time, then there was no way back – the Indonesian government cannot possibly lose face on an international scale, most importantly in front of their own people, and admit they were wrong – therefore the girl will have to serve as much of her time as possible until the issue goes away and they can smuggle her out the back door and back home to Oz (and the book/movie deal).

You cannot live and work in Asia if you do not understand the importance of never losing face in front of others – getting what you want by tricking those you are getting it from into thinking that they are the one who thought to give it to you in the first place, is the key to it all! – the Corby case was a diplomatic fuck up of galactic proportions on the side of the Oz Gov – of course there is moral reason to bang the drum of injustice and tell the world of how badly the Indonesian courts were handling this, alerting people to the lack of common sense and stupidity of the whole scenario – but not if you actually wanted to get the girl out of prison….

It’s just like when Ben Kenobi and Luke pulled up in their speeder entering Mos Eisley – two threatening storm-troopers approach and ask them were they got their droids who happen to match the descriptions that they're looking for – Old Ben gets the Good Ol Jedi Mind trick out of the closet and with a whisper and a wave of the hand the trooper is soon replying;

“These aren’t the droids we’re looking for…… you can go about your business…… move along….. move along”

Jedi mind tricks rather than explosive confrontations - if you really want to succeed in getting what you hope for in Asia.......

Spo | June 8, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia

June 7, 2005

Whisky

I'm a bit better now after a day of recovery from whisky indulgence - I like whisky - its the sort of drink you ascociate with bullish rogues who hunt game in africa and then take a good woman before gambling thier family fortune away on a card game and getting into a bare knuckle fight with the local Mayor, finsihing off by leading the village in a rendition of "old lang syne" and finally passing out in a gutter.

Spo | June 7, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Kaneheads Kompanion

June 6, 2005

“Damn, I just shot Marvin in the face….”

Today I have cracking hangover but it's ok because I really enjoyed creating it - I watched Pulp Fiction again last night and got stupendously smashed on whisky and vodka afterwards to celebrate how good that film is - can you think of any film made since that has managed to capture the essence of why it is such an enjoyable movie? I can't think of another film like it - lots of poor attempts to copy perhaps but none that clicked.

I remember seeing it in the cinema and the reaction of the audience - how half of them were shocked and the other half burst out with surprised laughter when Marvin got his face shot off - if ever there was a scene in a film that told you something about the people you were watching it with this was it - I could safely say that all those that laughed are my kind of people and those that didn't I'd probably never click with. People didn't laugh because they were psychos or sick minded evil doers - they laughed because it was shocking yet hilarious at the same time - brutal slapstick of the highest order - bang out of nowhere - even when you watch it again it still surprises you - one second Vincent is leaning over to carry on the conversation and then BOOM Marvin’s brain is all over the back window - absolutely classic.

There is so much to savour in this film – Eszikiel 25, Jackrabbit slims, the overdose scene with the needle countdown, Walken doing the Gold watch monologue, Butch going mad when he discovers Fabien forgot the watch (“bedside table on the little kangeroo - said the words “Don’t forget my fathers watch!!!” ) Jules and Vincent bickering like an old married couple (“well you watched me wash them” “ I watched you get them wet!" ) , Mr.Wolf and then finally Everyone be cool this is a robbery…

Everyone is on top form - can you think of a film since that Travolta or Kietal have got anywhere near the kind of quality they showed in Fiction? and Jackson is always cool but I don't think he'll ever top Jules - every character is expertly crafted and all the dialogue crackles with life and intensity, the camera makes you feel like you’re right there in the middle of it all as silent observer and the soundtrack .... I can't really put into words how much I love this film as right now I'm still foggy from the hangover.... just go and rewatch it and remind yourself of how good it is and what you loved the most.

For me it’s “damn, I just shot Marvin in the face..” - fucking cracks me up every time....

Spo | June 6, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Film / TV / Music | Personal

June 5, 2005

The Mozambique Adventure…..

I'm getting quite addicted to blogging - I've always written in my spare time and once you've got sucked into a good scribbling session it can really give you quite a rush - starting nowhere in particular and just pouring out your mind onto the page through your fingertips and seeing where you end up a few hours later.

When I was in Malawi I wrote huge letters back to my friend in the UK about absolutely everything and my two years in Vietnam were initially catalogued via Nam reports, which I bulk emailed to anyone in my address book that wanted to listen - stories of which I think I will now transfer to here once I get my poor on the verge of dying laptop back on its feet.

In those cases I was experiencing new ways of life and cultures and getting involved in all sorts of mischief all of which made great story telling material - I also found that writing about them gave me a chance to relive it all and small details were never forgotten as they would be if you just used memory alone.

One of my most punishing and eventful journeys was the trip to Mozambique back in 2000 - I was packed off in a giant creaking, rusty haulage truck with a bemused driver called Lewis and sent to the port of Beira in Moz from my home at the time of Blantyre in southern Malawi (if you look at a map of Africa, Moz is that big chunk on the bottom right next to Zim - Malawi is that mini one above Moz whose make up is basically half a lake) - initially I thought being a trucker in Mozambique was fantastic, but my initial joyful face of unbridled optimism would soon be replaced by a steely thousand yard stare of grim determination by the journeys end.

For an immature little English troublemaking monkey it was a good wake up call, opening my eyes to the bigger picture of the world. The trips purpose was allegedly to give me an insight into how our tea got from point A to point B and observe all the relevant malarkey going on in the port and what not – I had been working in the Malawi office handling tracking you see – the process of updating folk on the whereabouts of their tea….. well I have to get a tea grind on here if you will allow – to explain about the job I do will give you an understanding for later gibbers and also the reason for the trip - I’ll give you a basic overview as follows:

The main tea producing countries of the world are China, India, Sri Lanka & Kenya – these all make the bulk of what is good in the average cuppa – they are added to by other countries such as Indonesia, Vietnam, Argentina, Malawi and numerous other southern & East African countries along with a couple of smaller quantities from the likes of Georgia, Turkey, Iran, Malaysia and Papa New Guinea. All of which is great for me because, as long as I don’t get sacked, I will manage to visit all these freaky & enchanting places before I cease to breath upon this fair earth of ours.

Now then, generally the process goes more or less like this:

1) tea plucked by field workers wearing colourful hats, they fill their back packs with the two leaves and bud from the top of the bush. As they get paid on weight they’ll probably throw in parts of the bush you don’t need and this will lead to crappy cup later on.

2) Trucks take the green leaf tea to the factory where usually one of two processes will be used - CTC or orthodox

3) I’m not going to bore you with the details but basically CTC feeds the leaf into long cylindrical metal tubes with lots of sharp pointy teeth in them, grinding the leaf into mushy pea like substance and eventually makes little black/brown grainy leaf that ends up in teabags. Orthodox spins and rolls tea in drums to form long twisted stringy leaf that ends up in packets across mainly throughout the Middle East and Russia.

4) After the tea is mush (CTC) or stringy spaghetti (orth) you pop it in the fermenting room for an hour or two where all the nifty natural chemical reactions take place involving therabugins and theraflavins that are within the genes of the leaf.

5) How much time & heat is added during this period balances your colour and flavour of eventual cup against each other.

6) Then once fermented the tea gets put through the drier – a bouncing conveyor belt of different temperatures

7) Once it pops out the other side, in both cases you’ve got a messy mass of different sized good and bad dried tea leaf and you need to sort it.

8) Sorting machines generally work on the principle of doing the hokey cokey, shaking it about a bit and the relevant sized leaf will all get shook into relevant bags/chutes along with all of its relevant sized buddies.

9) Primary tea (good stuff) is all the high end grades that come from the picking of two leaves and a bud. These grades sell for more money and have more of what you want to make a good cuppa ie: flavour/colour

10) Secondary tea is all the low grade stuff that is the by-product of the primary making process – if your plucker chucks too many leaves and stalk in their bags, it will come out of the process of manufacture as dusty crap or fibre – all of which is still sold as it is still essentially tea as it came from the bush – but it’s cheaper and not as good as the primary stuff – hence its secondary moniker….. wondering if I’m straying from the point here but never mind….I’ve started so I’ll finish…

11) These bags full of similar sized leaf get a grade slapped on them and an invoice number along with the name of the garden and then are packed generally holding 50-60kgs per paper sack. Usually 20 or 40 sacks to one invoice number.

12) Store sacks in whse at factory – draw samples – send samples to buyers/relevant auctioneer – argue on price for a bit – agree in the end – organise tea to be delivered to buyers whse usually via shipping direct from factory in containers

13) Tea arrives in destination – gets blended with other grades from other origins – filtered into teabag machine – packed off to supermarket.

14) Drink it fools!! Its full of comforting hot goodness! Sometimes! And sometimes it is full of crap that is swept off the floor of a factory in Iran!

So as a trader like me, you buy different grades from auctions/producers and sell on to packers & other traders at better prices when the market is in your favour - or when they’ve made a cock up in their planning and realise that they have to buy a few more metric tons quick sharpish to stop their teabag machines packing air and holding up deliveries to supermarkets etc. or deliveries to angry men with beards and donkeys who take bags of the stuff across rivers and deserts to markets in Afghanistan and other such sandy desolate places.

Or sometimes, even more like me, you buy tea because its got a really cool name like Kibena which reminds me of Ribena, or sometimes you buy tea because you like going to see the producer as its a nice trip and he always has strong whisky waiting for you when you get there.

And other times you buy tea because you really like the girl who works as a translator there and want an excuse to talk to her

Anyways, the devious part of it all is that some grades look like others depending on production methods – so you can buy some cheap stuff and blend it with good stuff and no ones none the wiser. As well as this, knowing which country makes what when means that as you concoct the recipe for your blend, you can mix in all kinds of different origins at different prices as long as you know your stuff and the best time to buy. Timing comes in due to quality and quantity coming in seasons all across the world and the prices are all linked to that main factor – for example if one country has a lot of rain, production goes up, overall quality comes down and knowing when the bottom of the dip is going to level out or when the tip of the top is going to be reached determines how much cash you’ll grab or how great a brew you can afford to make.

So to get back to the Mozambique story (don’t worry that’s the tea grind over with now - which upon reflection actually isn't necessary to the actual story I'm telling, but too late now eh?) – I was responsible for tracking in our Malawi office which involved tracing the position of invoices from whse to shipment. Up to this point I had always treated it as fact that if tea had been loaded on a truck outside in my yard and then driven off to either the moz port of Beira or the dry port of Jo’burg in South Africa, then it was more or less as good as in the port awaiting shipment.

My trip to Moz taught me there was plenty in-between. To give you an idea of the intended time – I was to leave on a Tuesday and travel the 2000km there and back to arrive in Blantyre again by Thursday or Friday in time to hook up with friends and spend my last weekend in Malawi at Lake Nyasa. All sounded perfect. Califragifuckinglistic in fact. In the end my journey can be summed up as a cooking broth of mayhem and frustration whose ingredients involved bureaucracy, documentation, a brothel of angry noisy hookers, home-brewed alcohol, mosquitoes, breakdowns in the middle of nowhere, politely refusing to sleep with someone’s cousin, no change of clothes, lack of food & water, sleeping two to the cab, money changing street robbers, dodgy wooden bridges across doom inviting ravines, minibuses with no doors or windows, 48 hours without sleep and a wrath of god Cyclone.

The whole story was documented in letter form that I was writing to my friend at the time – then, once I’d survived the ordeal and returned in one piece I turned it into the report I was supposed to write on the whole “trucking experience” for my bosses in Holland.

The report was unconventional to say the least and can be found here/links (The Moz adventure) Later on in life when I got the chance to go to Vietnam and set up the office there, the head of the company told me he'd read it and even though it shows my naivety and immaturity at times, it was still one of the main reasons he thought I could handle the job in Vietnam – as if I could deal with the chaos of Mozambique, I could deal with anything......

So it kind of is in some way responsible for where I am today and shall forever remain as a printed record of one of the most important weeks of my life – I’ll never forget the details and can relive it every time I go back and read it.

Isn’t that the main reason behind blogging?

Spo | June 5, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi

June 3, 2005

“One Thing I never could stand about Santa Carla….. All the damn Vampires…”

The Week winds down and Friday night in Jakarta looms - "never will you find a more wretched hive of scum an villainy".....

I may indeed be living in a huge city offering every vice you can think of, but Jakarta still has yet to entice me into its lair and trap me within its coils - were I 22 again, as I was in Malawi, then this would be perhaps a different situation and I would be a regular hung-over panda-eyed grinning collection of sins each morning - but times have changed and moderation is the key (young skywalker) - plus priorities at the moment along the lines of taking a time out from such activities and getting myself straight mean I am not a regular fixture at the bars of Blok M or at the pool table of exapt hangout Bugils.

Let me give you an overview of the monster - basically Jakarta is a mahoofing great city of around 12-13million people that has simply grown at too great a rate to sustain itself - all the cracks in the dam are too numerous and irreparable so a slew of sewage, corruption, congestion and confusion envelops the place, baked at a constant level of humidity and cast over by an all year round foggy haze of pollution.

The main roads are seemingly in a permanent state of unexplainable grid lock and to escape, many commuters think they know the shortest of secret short cuts through what are known as “kampungs” which are the “warung” filled warrens were the majority of Jakartans live – small winding pathways, populated by mini houses and warung restaurants crammed in to what ever space is available – however, what usually happens when attempting this devious plan is that you just get stuck (and lost) in a maze of even greater frustrating confusion than that which you have just escaped from.

There are numerous high rise apartments that tower over all this nonsense (one of which I live in) that while elevated away from the noisy din of traffic and chaos do not provide much comfort if and when an earthquake should strike – mainly due to the fact that so much goes wrong in this country, so many corners are cut with so many pockets lined, you don’t hold out much hope of these gigantic buildings staying on their feet what ever anyone tells you. It’s also worthy to note that the answer to the majority of questions asked in this country is “yes” even when really it should be “no” or “no idea mate, not my job” or “you are strange foreign man and I have no idea what you are saying right now, but maybe if I say yes you will be happy and go away” – therefore you can imagine asking staff “is this building earthquake proof” is not going to get you any further to the truth - there is nothing to be gained from telling you it might fall down at the brush of a whisker other than you deciding not to pay rent and live there.

The reason to mention earthquakes is not only the terrible events that took place across the waters in Aceh on the island of Sumatra, (Jakarta is in the North west of Java) but because Indonesia as a whole is a collection of large and small islands stretched across the ring of fire – which is basically a cluster of hundreds of volcanoes bubbling away, waiting for a tectonic shift or fault line rumble to kick them off into what they do best – fuck everything within molten lava flinging distance the fuck up, while shaking the earth around with more might than an epileptic Dinosaurs amphetamine Gabba techno convention. There’s an image.

I’ve been here since January and so far have been in two earthquakes – the first was while I was in a place called Bandung – sort of south west of the capital – no, wait a minute - never eat shredded wheat – yes actually, south west – so anyways, the earthquake was a 5.9 on the good ol’richter scale which translates as shaking houses, people reasonably getting their freak on, water in your glass doing a Jurassic park thing, cats looking confused – I however failed to notice the whole shebang as I was on a very bumpy road in a very old car with crappy suspension at the time. Sure there was noise and shit loads of people on the street, but then again there’s always noise and shit loads of people on the street, so the whole thing passed me by.

The second earthquake occurred while I was 14 floors up in my apartment watching Amityville horror after drinking a bottle of red wine around 10.30pm – so again at first I didn’t notice and when I did thought it might have been ghosts – not that I get freaked out by shitty B-grade horrors but your mind does wander after downing a bottle of penfolds in a fairly short amount of time – at first the picture behind me was tapping away and then the focus in the window was a bit blurry and when the tapping got louder I felt the walls vibrate and gleefully told people via text that I was in an earthquake – something that confused the hell out of most recipients as I missed the “a” out and the predictive text spelt “drugstake” instead – one of my friends rang me and I explained the walls were vibrating and that it was all terribly exciting as perhaps it might get stronger and really kick off at which point he alerted me to my 14th floor station and general blissful ignorance of possible impending doom – we discussed options and I decided that in the event of an actual proper earthquake and not a mild tremor as this was, I would run up to the top floor as the building crumbled and when the ground was close enough - I’d jump off to safety.

I also explained this is what I would do in the event of air crashes and my friend valiantly tried to explain the relationship between speed, time and weight to my red wine befuddled mind while in the background the tremor murmered to a halt. I was left contemplating what my next plan would be if I was ever in a high rise earthquake or aircraft tumbling situation - any suggestions welcome.

And apparently if there is a nuclear explosion ducking your head under the sea until it’s finished won’t help either. (yes, it is a wonder I've lasted this long on the planet isn't it? common sense not that common etc)

So yes, there are earthquakes occasionally but not big ones as we aren’t on any cracks in the earth – and yes there are volcanoes but none near enough or really active enough to really give cause for concern. And there are bombs too - big ones but none since the Oz embassy here in Jakarta - or was it the Marriot hotel? - but the occasional terror alert aside (which I only ever find was issued after the event anyways) I haven't seen or heard of much in the way of trouble - but then again I suppose it's not as if they advertise..

I think it is relevant to mention at this point that before this I used to live in Hanoi – a place whose many virtues I will extol in another future ramble – and Hanoi had that elegant blend of a lot of East meeting a little bit of west, yet still retaining it’s individuality and culture as it starts to liberalise years of communist rule – Jakarta on the other hand, seems to have invited all the worst parts of capitalist commercialism with open arms and then tried to operate the whole mechanism with stumpy retarded bureaucratical toad human cross breeds – sort of like teaching a child to swim and do algebra at the same time by tossing it overboard at high seas with a crayon and note pad while screaming numbers at it.

Basically Jakarta doesn’t work – and there is no easy answer to making it work - short of flushing the chain and starting all over again.

I think that perhaps the main reason as to why it is not a great place to live is that unlike other cities of the world I love like London, Edinburgh. Amsterdam, Bangkok, Hong Kong, Saigon, Hanoi, Toronto & Moscow – there is no centre, no heart, no hub – and getting around the place takes the will power and patience of 100 folk who also have the strength and power of 100 folk to begin with. Whatever that number is.

Jakarta does indeed have a smattering of worthy drinking holes (although they are mostly filled with hookers, the rich elites kids with too many mobile phones and fat old men who work in the oil industry) and some excellent restaurants, but the problem with these places is that they are all too far apart from one another and getting between them can mean dedicating far too much of your life to sitting in traffic – there are no pavements here – there is no subway – no monorail – no taxi lane – no quick escape – there is just bumper to bumper horn screeching whistle blowing matchok mayhem (traffic jam). Skilifts and elevated escalotors must be the only way forward surely?

The other thing about Jakarta is shopping centres – you can’t walk around and you need everything in one place so they build these Mahoosive great Mecca’s with everything you could possibly want under one roof (well if everything you could possibly want is what every western shopping centre in the world already has – no personality or individuality, crammed full of people and farily dispiriting). Getting in to these places is again a difficulty due to traffic jams and folk driving not really supposed to be behind the wheel as they just bought their license instead of actually earning it.

Bad driving gives rise to indulgence in some of the most abrasive and unorthodox road maneuvers you will ever carry out in your life – anything goes and if you can drive here you can drive anywhere – apart from Karachi which is marginally worse due to the addition of livestock Cairo are supposed to be pretty bad as well– I fear for when I return to civilized road etiquette following societies as I shall just be tearing up the place – blasting my horn – driving the wrong way – undertaking and cutting up – parking where ever I feel like it – you see here you definitely cannot beat them – you most certainly have to join them – it is war on dem der streets.

So Jakarta then – corrupt, polluted, humid, congested, chaotic and bulging at the seams – a thriving mass of poverty and unabashed financial exuberance with no middle ground – all stuck in traffic trying to get to the next overhyped shopping mall selling the same commercial crap they’ve got everywhere else in the world. And in the middle of it all a dirty grubby little man with a brain the size of a pebble directing traffic in the corner of a kampung - from wherein all the chaos multiplies in circles until the city cannot move.

Is it any wonder I prefer to sit here and tell you about it rather than actually try and get trapped in it’s daily grind?

Spo | June 3, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Personal

June 1, 2005

Story so far….

Tea is what I've been learning the trade of since I was 19 after a fucked up failed attempt at university - where I indulged too much in the life but not the actual attendance - early on I didn't take this as a serious job as I was meddling in other things, looking forward to the weekend and clawing my way to payday - the crunch came at the end of 1999 and my boss was trying to decide if he should sack me or preserve with trying to school me in the trade

Lucky for me, instead of giving me the boot he took up the offer of the guy who ran the Malawi office and I was sent to work there for 6 months (and Kenya) to see what I was made of - turned everything around and plucked me out of a destructive existence - Malawi was the best 6 months of my life - back to basics, breath taking beauty, rich climate, a huge lake making up half country, good friends, lots of adventure (like the Mozambique trip) but also a wake up call to tell me that I'm lucky to come from a country where life is not such the struggle it is for the average bear living in Malawi - once I came back to the UK I knew the way to get back there was to do my best to make this a career for life and got dedicated to the task.

After a while longer in the UK the opportunity to set things up in Vietnam came along in 2003 - the first season was bastard hard - trying to get samples, contracts, shipments, documentation in order - myself and two guys called Tri and Bach - we had to build a customer base via phones/email and travel around to discover new producers - all within a very small office, shitty internet connection, one line for phone fax and email, no storage space for all the samples, evil virus ridden computer, the place prone to flooding... man, basically the first year was very hard work but it took off - next year as part of the Vietnam sales side of thing, they sent me on a world trek to visit our other offices (we have 11 around the world) and our customers - over three/four months I jetted/trekked through the following trail of Rotterdam, Karachi, Peshawar, Dubai, Mombassa, Dar Es Salaam, Zanzibar, Saigon, Hanoi, HongKong, Toronto, London, Moscow and then back to Hanoi. I met some amazing folk, went to strange places, had some big nights out and learned a lot - once back in Hanoi we moved our office upstairs and got everything we needed for the office and went from shipping out 1000 Metric Tons to 5000MT.

I had some wild adventures in Vietnam - we did some rough travelling into the mountainous north to see tea plantations and we did a road trip all the way from Hanoi to Saigon seeing the whole country - crazy shit happened in the office too, a guy brought live snakes there and killed them to make snake whisky for me as a leaving present - fucking cobra in my office hissing at me - we also went to a snake restaurant were you eat every part they can cook - they kill this angry fucking long nasty looking bastard at your table by cutting out it's heart - then they put it in a shot glass - fucker is still beating - then you gotta down it in one - all the while the snake is still wriggling around - once you've gotten over the still beating thing it's no worse than drinking the worm in Tequila.

During all of this I was with my girlfriend Hanh who was an English teacher and also worked for a tea company - we didn't live together but saw each other at weekends and some evenings - it was a casual thing and we didn't talk the future too much - but it grew into something pretty strong - but not strong enough in the end - so when I was moved to Jakarta I had to leave her - thoughts along the lines of getting settled and then her coming across existed - but life moved to fast and before I knew it she was part of an arranged marriage, looking after her new husbands dying parents and pregnant - turned things upside down here and I crashed my car whilst wasted with a girl in my lap - but now I'm taking it easy and after talking it all through and figuring out the way I feel by writing about it.

Jakarta is a stop gap - I've written a few posts about life here over the last month - it's a smash of commercialism, idolising the western way of life and a breakdown behind the scenes of the basics you need to keep a huge city of 12 million people running - on the surface they seem to have the model set up - tall towers, flash cars, booming business and many answers to questions of desire - but underneath it all the its congested, corrupt, chaotic, polluted, lacks a central heart and has a lot of vice, crime, terrorism and stupidity bubbling under its surface - the gap between rich and poor gets wider and wider every day and no one seems to be running the show. My main problem with the place is that there is no where to be under the sun - take a walk, sit and read a book - simply get some god damned fresh air in your lungs - also of all the places I've been this lacks the most character and individuality.

Basically the place is a stepping stone to the next stop which will be either Rotterdam and the head office for a while or Africa again - to run an office on my own I need to take more responsibility for the internal side of things - financial reports, adding up the numbers, staff issues, expenses/wages/costs etc - but I'm a trader at heart and love the chase of sales - also learning the trade is a constant thing as you pick up the tastes and appearances of the teas from all over the world and store it away for reference when blending/buying/selling - therefore spending time in each country where it is grown and sold means you learn so much to make you a better trader.

Ultimately the idea is to get back to Malawi and run the office there - have a bar by the lake - a hammock - a regular supply of whisky - a fine woman who inspires the eye and mind and a ton of mischievous clumsy children.

and a monkey.

Spo | June 1, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Personal

April 17, 2000

Mozambique Intro…….

When I was in Malawi I wrote huge letters back to a girl back home in the UK about absolutely everything - I was experiencing new ways of life and cultures and getting involved in all sorts of mischief all of which made great story telling material - I also found that writing about these times gave me a chance to relive it all and small details were never forgotten as they would be if you just used memory alone.
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One of my most punishing and eventful journeys was the trip to Mozambique back in 2000 - I was packed off in a giant creaking, rusty haulage truck with a bemused driver called Lewis and sent to the port of Beira in Moz from my home at the time of Blantyre in Southern Malawi (if you look at a map of Africa, Moz is that big chunk on the bottom right next to Zim - Malawi is that mini one above Moz whose make up is basically half a lake) - initially I thought being a trucker in Mozambique was fantastic, but my initial joyful face of unbridled optimism would soon be replaced by a steely thousand yard stare of grim determination by the journeys end.
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For an immature little English troublemaking monkey it was a good wake up call, opening my eyes to the bigger picture of the world. The trips purpose was allegedly to give me an insight into how our tea got from point A to point B and observe all the relevant malarkey going on in the port and what not – I had been working in the Malawi office handling tracking you see – the process of updating folk on the whereabouts of their tea.
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I was responsible for tracing the position of tea via invoice numbers from whse to shipment and up to this point I had always treated it as fact that if tea had been loaded on a truck outside in my yard it was done with. I assumed that once it has been driven off to either the Moz port of Beira or the dry port of Jo’burg in South Africa, then it was more or less as good as in the port awaiting shipment.
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My trip to Moz taught me there was plenty in-between.
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To give you an idea of the intended time – I was to leave on a Tuesday and travel the 2000km or so there and back to arrive in Blantyre again by Thursday or Friday in time to hook up with friends and spend my last weekend in Malawi at Lake Nyasa. All sounded perfect. Califragifuckinglistic in fact.
In the end my journey can be summed up as a cooking broth of mayhem and frustration whose ingredients involved bureaucracy, documentation, a brothel of angry noisy hookers, home-brewed alcohol, mosquitoes, breakdowns in the middle of nowhere, politely refusing to sleep with someone’s cousin, no change of clothes, lack of food & water, sleeping two to the cab, money changing street robbers, dodgy wooden bridges across doom inviting ravines, minibuses with no doors or windows, 48 hours without sleep and a wrath of god Cyclone.
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The whole story was documented in letter form that I was writing to my friend at the time – then, once I’d survived the ordeal and returned in one piece I turned it into the report I was supposed to write on the whole “trucking experience” for my bosses in Holland.
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The report was unconventional to say the least and can be found by clicking the following: (The Moz adventure) - but is also directly below this in a better adaptation for the web. - Later on in life when I got the chance to go to Vietnam and set up the office there, the head of the company told me he’d read it and even though it shows my naivety and immaturity at times, it was still one of the main reasons he thought I could handle the job in Vietnam – as if I could deal with the chaos of Mozambique, I could deal with anything......
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So it kind of is in some way responsible for where I am today and shall forever remain as a printed record of one of the most important weeks of my life – I’ll never forget the details now - I’m very glad I went - if not such a happy experience at the time. 

Spo | April 17, 2000 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Malawi | Personal

April 17, 2000

The Original Mozambique Report - word for word…..

Date: 17/04/00
Time: Typed during the afternoon & evening.
To: D.Brown/J.Vart/A.Longstaff
From: S.O’Neill
Report 7: The Mozambican “Experience”

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On Tuesday 4th of April it was decided that it would be a good idea for me to jump in a GDC truck and follow its path down through Tete, on to the port of Beira and back again (about 1000km each way). Apparently this would give me a greater appreciation of how our loads get to their destination than when I simply track the progress of containers via status reports. I was supposed to have made this trip earlier during my stay in Blantyre and had almost jumped onto a different truck to make this fateful journey around a month beforehand - on that occasion a last minute realisation stopped a potentially disastrous situation occurring.

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Not only did the visa have a “transit” stamp rather than “entry” but it was also out of date by around four or five days. This was discovered just before starting the expedition into the world of the trucker and could of resulted in either being picked up at the border for false documentation or, if this had passed customs notice (very possible), being arrested for illegally travelling to Beira on an transit visa. (i.e. a two-day allowance for passing threw the Tete corridor on the way to Harare in Zim etc.). After actually completing the assignment I feel that the latter two options mentioned would have been preferable to actually “enduring” the experience of actually going.
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The Objective:
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The initial idea of the trip was that I should observe and take in all the problems and different scenarios the loads we send via this route have to endure to arrive at their destination. I should see such things as the GDC depot, fuelling points, the port and it’s operation, loading and offloading and the roads that have to be travelled upon. All this was to increase my knowledge of how the tea industry operates with regard to transport. Who could of known that what was initially intended to be an education in the appreciation of the transporting side of tea would turn out to be an appreciation of the importance of life itself.
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Mr. Brown (who I later found out has “suffered” a similar experience) and Mr. Darby organised the trip and it was arranged that I would travel down to Beira and back again via one of the GDC trailers. The truck and trailer was to travel without a load for speed purposes, and then load rice to be brought back to Blantyre for GDC. All this was supposed to take around four days. Four very long days………….

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The beginning of the journey: foolish optimism.

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The following report is written using exact quotations from a diary of the trip written to my good friend Anna while it was in progress, from the enthusiastic approach at the beginning of proceedings, to the single-minded, straight-forward “get me out of here” intention at the end. In the interests of authenticity and to convey the genuine feelings of the time I’ve left all the cursing and swearing in place - obviously I censored using **** these when handing it in to the bosses. The author would like to hope that it can be used as an educational form of prevention for all those thinking of attempting a similar trip!:

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Tuesday 4th April: Into the abyss

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“Right then, it’s about 12.30 and I’ve just finished my 52000 kilo blend, played markets and stood up for myself in the auction and now this time I’m definitely jumping on a truck to travel down to Tete, pick up some Maize and go down to Beira, unload and pick up some rice or whatever and come back to Blantyre”.

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“I’M A TRUCKER! FANTASTIC! SPLENDID!”

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“Don’t worry I will behave – I know there’s floods and threatening civil war and all those problems next door in Zimbabwe but I’m far too lucky for anything serious to befall me I’m sure. All I hope is that it is a wonderful trip and that I can get back to Blantyre in good time for Friday what with it being my last weekend in Malawi and everything”

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“I will attempt to write while in transit despite the bumpy terrain”

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The Truck it’s self was a gargantuan relic of many hardened travels and reminded me of the ones Burt Reynolds hurdled in Smokey and the Bandit. It took some effort to climb up into the cab and once there I realised the hardened exterior also applied to the interior as well – holes where any electrical radio like equipment should be, broken dials and dash board, one long tattered seat that could probably sit three across and a sort of ramshackle sleeping area behind that perhaps one person could lie flat along and have just about enough room to sleep in moderate comfort. NOTE: in retrospect, moderate comfort was really stretching the truth.

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“O.K it’s about 3.00pm and I’m on my way into Mozambique after just passing the border at Zobway. It was 110km from Balntyre but we aren’t carrying a load so we did that in about an hour or so. The driver is called Lewis Jr. and he’s a Portuguese/Mozambican - he’s been driving trucks for 10 years so I’m not to worry”

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“Right now we are making our way round these winding roads threw the mountains and on our way to the Mwanzan border and then on to Tete. Excellent!”

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“You pay 5 dollars at Mwanza and change some money as well, which I had no problems with after some haggling – 15000 Meticash for the dollar when the current rate is 14000. Of course he tried to short change me but I made sure I counted”

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At this point the road did not allow for writing to take place while driving – various words scribbled said things such as “Amazing open mouth fantastic views!” and “Beautiful flat dusky African bush country” Please note the jovial mood expectant of a pleasant journey.

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Upon arriving in Tete that night we visited the GDC depot and had a meal with Lewis JR’s cousin and friends. I was informed before the journey by Mr.Darby that I would probably stay at Lewis’s house in Tete but then Lewis explained that he was having some “problems” with the wife at the moment and that we would both be sleeping in the Cab. These problems I put down at the time to perhaps a feeling of animosity towards his long haul journeys. I later deduced that this would be due to the fact Lewis likes drinking - an awful lot - and he also seems to have a lot of girlfriends dotted around various stops a long the way.

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Sleeping two to the cab wasn’t too bad as I had discovered the local brew Manica that has alcohol 6% and comes in a very large bottle which allows one to lapse into unconsciousness regardless of comfort very easily. My deduction was that although it was not a comfortable experience for two people, I could put up with it for maybe one or two nights. NOTE: Upon return I would later learn that what I drank when I thought I was drinking Manica was in fact an evil home brew of note.

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Wednesday 5th April: Hold up

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“We have stopped in the outskirts of Tete to fill the truck up with Diesel after spending the night in the truck. This is real Trucking life not like those guy’s simply running up and down the M25 I’m sure!”

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“Hmmm…..things seem to be taking a long time….. Ah well more time to write I suppose. When driving this huge battered old machine around twisting mountain roads before opening out onto the plains where even though the road looks straight (and most of it is) you still have to ski almost as you drive dancing between the potholes and bumps, making your way towards the city. The surrounding landscape is quite breathtaking with an abundance of mountain ranges and hills in the distance with African bush stretching as far as the eye can see. The Zooa-looka-lowa (sunset) is of course fantabulous.”

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“Problem with all this amazing possible exploration territory is that unfortunately it’s full of land mines left over from the civil war. The civil war between Renamo & Freelimo finished in 1992 with Freelimo taking power under Chissano. The war ravaged this country and you can still see its effects as you pass wrecked vehicles and broken down buildings. Graffiti is everywhere supporting both sides from what I can decipher.

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The infrastructure is still in tatters with the remains of things such as desolate railway lines and dis-used carts littering the area around us at the moment. Of particular significance is the rusted hollowed out shell of the front of a train. It’s half buried in the ground covered in rust and nearly enveloped by a giant anthill. I don’t think even British Rail has that sort of problem - I can imagine the station master announcing that the 5.15 from London has been delayed because they are still trying to remove it from the ground and are clearing the ant hill that has covered it overnight – certainly a little more serious than leaves on the track”

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“Lewis has also informed me that if and when nature calls en-route then I should not stray too far from the truck due to the problem of Land mines still littering the surrounding bush area. The machines are slowly clearing sections of land but this is Africa and things take time. Meanwhile people are still dying ten years after the war has ended. In the South the situation is no doubt even more serious due to the flooding displacing them all and repositioning in areas already cleared. Effectively this means they will have to start all over again. Improving things such as roads and rail links is a more problematic task as a result. Once told is enough when it comes to not going wandering admiring the scenery so as to avoid being scattered all over it”

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“The situation is as I say slowly being rectified and I imagine this will gather force with outside interest due to the vast amount of salts, minerals and fossil fuels such as coal which could be mined and harvested from the land. For the moment however things are, for want of a better word, pretty much fucked”

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Later after loading with Diesel – a process that took a long time due to “documentation” and general laziness of people involved with solving the situation -

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“As we headed towards Tete I asked if the bridge we were travelling across was the famous one across the Zambezi river that people had been telling me about, Lewis shook his head and pointed to the corner ahead – Ay-Yi-Yi – that’s a bridge!”

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“Imagine tower bridge with a similar structure to the Golden Gate, went African Style and surround it with a sprawling shanty town-esque city that’s full of life, fire, electricity (sporadic), mud, concrete, cars and trucks and mini buses all in varying states of states of operation, random dogs, chickens and people meandering around the place, (some with rabies, some without) folk sitting, walking, and leaning with no particular purpose or conviction, shacks next to houses, dirt roads next to fly-overs and a monumental passage way across the water leading to the centre of it all and you should have a picture in your mind”

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“I have yet to go into the centre of Tete (NOTE:I had but didn’t realise, I was looking for something along the lines of shops and places to eat etc. in fact the centre of Tete is pretty much identical to the rest of Tete i.e. very hot, broken dusty and covered in rubbish and people) perhaps Lewis will show me around later. Things are getting pretty hot in the cab and I think I’ve been eaten a little more than I realised by Mosquito’s last night as result of Manica putting me to sleep without putting the net up first”

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“Right now I’m awaiting Lewis’s return as he has gone to get his licence stamped by the police. I hope he comes back as I’ve heard stories about Mozambican jails from Derek Kuavalo and I can’t drive one of these things. Ah well Zimachitika. Lewis is cool. He’s probably about 45/50 years old and has been driving trucks for around 10 years, 7 for GDC, which is the Transport Company we mostly use to get our tea to either Joberg or Beira . He doesn’t say much sometimes however. Drew and Mike Darby, the boss, sorted this trip out for me – I must remind myself to thank them when I get back” NOTE: said in all seriousness at the time.

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“cool, chabwino, he’s back, perhaps we are on our way – no he’s going to see his cousin from last night. I’ll stay here as I don’t speak Portuguese apart from com-e-stas? Tabo, munto obligato and por-favor. In fact I’m speaking more Chechewa than English since I came here, as, as close to the border as we are that language seems the second to Portuguese.

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Hey it’s getting hot and the smell of the rubbish is starting to grip this place in a big way. Fantastically interesting experience sometimes, sitting here watching these people go about their business – or rather not going about their business. People in Africa certainly know how to stand around doing absolutely Fuck all. People are always going places but not really going anywhere at all if you know what I mean.

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Take outside just now for example, Guy sitting on a rock, hitting a piece of random twisted metal with a hammer for no good reason. No reason surely, just hitting a piece of metal and making a noise, irritating noise as well. Ah ha! Lewis has returned – were off! – no were not – problems”

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“Hmmm…..seems as though the depot manager at GDC has instructed Lewis to await for some “documentation” to be finalised relating to toll fees. The drivers don’t seem to care for this man too much and observing the way he deals with them I’m not surprised. He certainly wasn’t interested in my presence not even bothering to acknowledge my existence declining to shake my hand in fact. Hmmm……………ah well never be afraid to try new things, amateurs built the ark, professionals built the titanic and so he jumped on a truck to Mozambique and ended up sitting in a café in Tete while “documentation” is finalised to allow us to journey down to Beira. Time is steadily becoming of the essence”

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Time was indeed of the essence and we ended up waiting around all day by the GDC depot for documents relating to toll fees, which, for some reason, took a whole day to be filled in and transferred to Lewis’s possession. Once in his hands we couldn’t move because it was too late to drive i.e. bandits at night - expensive documents in tow, therefore another night in Tete, another night in the cab.

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Leading up to this point I managed to locate some food while Lewis provided copious amounts of alcohol and tried to organise a “meeting” with his cousins daughter for me which I politely declined (in Africa a big woman is apparently desirable and believe this was a BIG woman – she kinda reminded me of Jabba the Hutt and I feared that if I wasn’t crushed, I might be eaten afterwards).

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During this time I did meet a number of other drivers passing threw from all over and I was able to get a better idea of the life they lead. Certain boss’s, in certain depots, (Mr.Darby not included however – Mozambican’s treat their own with more disregard, apparently as a sort of status statement) being described as “ass-holes of note!” and other problems such as out of the blue, suddenly being told you are going to spend the next six months in Joberg. A problem when you are going to earn less money than in Moz. and not be able to visit your family and due to the increased danger factor, perhaps never see them again.

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Lewis explained that he is paid by the kilometre travelled so for all the time he has to sit around awaiting the idiot at the depot to get off his backside and add a signature to a piece of paper he’s not getting paid. In truth the day was not an unpleasant one, I had plenty of time to write and ate and drank properly for the first time during the journey.

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Later on I was even allowed to attempt to reverse the truck into the yard by one of the drivers, something that predictably enough nearly ended in disaster. It was just that there was no need for the day to take place in the grand scheme of things, we should have been on the move to Beira .

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The time spent waiting around in Tete all day was to prove very costly for me as well. How little I knew at that point.

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Thursday April 6th around 5.00pm : Experience Wearing Thin

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“I’m in Mozambique and I’m not happy. To be honest, I don’t really know the time, as no one seems to have a watch – predictably enough, they don’t seem to have anything else around here either. The situation as of now is that after being held up in Tete all day Wednesday by the “asshole of note”, we have travelled the 650km or so down to Beira the following day, leaving at around 5.00am. We arrived at the depot some time after 3 or 4. The prospects of loading and leaving toady are not good. To be totally honest, this whole trucking thing is really beginning to piss me off now. The idea of seeing a new country, travelling in a truck, visiting a port etc. did initially seem a good one – now it is wearing more than a little thin”

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The journey from Tete to Beira was indeed a long and arduous one especially after attempting to brave the Tete Depot showers and giving up thinking I should wait until I got to Beira (big mistake). The initially impressive landscape on display starts to wear off after 300 km or so when you realise it is all the same. The ever-stretching single road, in one direction, at one level, is quite disheartening when searching for a light at the end of the tunnel to give an indication of how long you have until you will reach your destination. Along the way several instances of note included seeing how the sort of “brotherhood of trucking” worked, with several stops relating to seeing fellow truckers and helping with mechanical failures such as changing wheels, tinkering with engines, giving people lifts etc.

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One particular instance involved a truck from a different company, which had completely shot off the edge of the road and overturned in the bush, load included. It had occurred on the mildest of corners so one can imagine that sleeping at the wheel may have been involved. Lewis explained that this could happen when the times of delivery are pushed to their limits and drivers have to continue moving during the night from travelling by day. I thought that it might also have something to do with the consumption of vast amounts of alcohol and attempting to drive huge pieces of machinery afterwards.

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Along the way you see such things as how the many different compartments within the trailer can be used, we were always stopping to buy this and that. Lewis bought three goats and dragged them along with their feet tied after which they where slung into this small compartment for the remainder of the journey. When we arrived at the depot, they jumped out and once untied, walked around as though nothing had happened much to my amazement after seeing their conditions of travel. Coal and firewood where other commodities more readily available at better prices on the journey through the bush, picked up to be sold in town later on at better prices.

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The other thing that struck me was that seemingly in the middle of nowhere, without trace of civilization for miles around, you would suddenly see a guy jump from the bush and start waving a container about.
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This is a Mozambican petrol station.
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The driver can siphon off fuel in exchange for cash that the man with the can will then resell at a higher price depending on the desperation of his customer no doubt. The clever driver, if he knows his exchange rates traveling between countries can make himself extra cash by selling fuel in one country and then restocking in another. I didn’t see this particular process in operation but I saw plenty of people waving cans around so I’m sure it is very popular.

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Once I had arrived in Beira we went straight to the GDC depot to meet the manager Mr.DeSilva and the other workers at the base. Mr.DeSilva had gone to Zimbabwe . Fantastic…………

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“ You see the problem is, unbeknown to me, there is a holiday here in Mozambique on a Friday. How this works I don’t know - no-one seems to be doing very much when there isn’t one so maybe on a holiday they actually do some work. Or maybe it’s a day when everyone stops wandering around aimlessly. Who knows, all that’s important to me is that customs officials will not be at work, and nor will they be at work at the weekend . This is a problem as it means we can’t load and leave until Monday. Problem. “Documentation” again. Big Problem. Not acceptable”

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“Thoughts of a possible return to Blantyre by the evening of Friday have started to be put seriously in doubt. In fact thoughts of returning to Blantyre in general have been put in serious doubt. I’ve had no shower, I’ve had no food, sleeping two people to a cramped bed in a cab built for one is not, repeat not a recipe for a good night’s rest. My back has been put out of shape by all the bouncing around during the journey, Mosquito’s have seriously eaten me alive with my arms looking like a war zone and somehow, once again one of them has managed to bite me on the backside - again. I have run out of clothes and I have forgotten a towel and shampoo should I manage to find somewhere to take a shower…………All in All I’m very fucked off, and very fucked up! CHOCKA! FUCKSHITBASTARDCUNTBUBBLEFUCKINGBASTARDSHITFUCK!! Dagnammit!”

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“ The saving grace is this – I have $60 and some Mozambican Meticash which may allow me to make a break for it and try and somehow get back to Blantyre today or tomorrow perhaps. I’m certainly not staying at the depot in the cab all weekend. Nice guy as he is, Lewis Jr. and the language barrier is starting to become a problem as well. Sweet Jesus I’ve seriously been eaten alive by Mosquito’s and bed bugs and god knows what else! Maybe there was some sort of international convention for bloodsucking insects and they needed a place to hold it and what with me standing out here more than most I became the chosen venue, Fuck’’s sake!”

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“Being a trucker is not for me – It’s shit”

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Thursday 6th of April around 7.30pm perhaps - “Going solo maybe the only option despite specific instructions to remain with GDC at all times. Hey it’s initiative right? If I’m completely honest I want to go to the Lake and see my girlfriend on my last weekend in Malawi . I know the reason I came to the warm heart of Africa was for business and educational purposes, but really **** it! I want to go to the lake and I’m going to get there somehow! Besides I’m sure this current situation was not in my job description”

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Friday 7th April: Escape Plan

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The previous evening the guys at GDC did what they could with little money and no option of transport to make my stay as comfortable as possible. In the evening we all went to a restaurant/bar up the road from the depot where I got some chicken and chips and was once again slightly alleviated from the current situation by Mr.Manica’s alcohol %. TommyD, D-D, Lewis and er, Choo-Choo were very good company and the first two mentioned spoke a bit of English as well.

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I found out about the running of the depot there and also some information about the football – always a guarantee of being an international language barrier breaker! You can just say teams and player names and make noises of approval or disapproval afterwards.

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In the late evening they were good enough to escort me on a rather suspect, crammed minibus into the town where they found me a hotel to stay in for the night. Basic and cheap would be the words but it was better than the cab and even though it didn’t have electricity, water, wash facilities and a toilet that could be safely used, it did have a bed and there weren’t any mosquitos.

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The clientele did seem to be staying in rooms for relatively short periods by the sound of all the constant door slamming and moving around. Lots of screaming to. The array of women and clicking sounds of high heels suggested that perhaps this was not on the tourist operator list. Despite all the commotion once the head hit the pillow at around 12.30am , sleep very quickly followed until around 7.00am the next morning. D-D picked me up to catch a minibus to the depot.
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7.45am “The day of reckoning has arrived. As you could no doubt tell last night I wasn’t in the greatest of moods but after a nights sleep and some food and drink I’m feeling a lot better. Still need a shower and shave though. Toilet wouldn’t go amiss either. Hmmm……supposed to be travelling to the port to observe how it all works and load the truck today. TommyD from GDC informs me that he thinks he can arrange for customs to make special arrangements. Some how I doubt this quite severely but it does offer a glimmer of hope.”
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Around 8.30am“O.K – here I am sitting in the truck outside the gate to the docking port. We are waiting to enter and pick up the load, Lewis Jr. has said that he’ll show me around the port while loading is taking place. TommyD’s whimsical fantasy that custom officials would be here has also failed to come to fruition. No surprise there though. There doesn’t seem to be to much activity taking place at the moment, Lewis has explained that the reason we are simply just sitting here is once again a problem with “documentation” how ever I am now past the point of really caring”
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“Trouble ahead – Mavuto kuaembeeli – I’m currently sitting in the cab while rice is being loaded onto the truck finally after several hours of generally not an awful lot, “faffing” as I call it. I have observed all the container storage areas, taken in the many cranes and ships stretching the port harbour and spoken with the GDC representative who organises all the loading here at the port. I even ended up talking with a guy who hires people to work on ships, amusingly enough he enquired as to which ship I had just sailed in on and did I want more work….., suffice to say I am not looking my best”
Points of interest include:
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• There is a rather large Salamander lizard stuck between a gap in the harbour. This has gathered quite a lot attention as people mill around staring and poking it with sticks. Great big thing it is and quite vicious as well. This held up the loading process for some time due to the “faffing” such a spectacle caused”
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• Here in the warehouse lots of birds live up above in the rafters so it is rather like sitting in an Avery. They are many different colours and are darting around the place as people load the truck. Surreal (NOTE: Later I learned this is a very bad thing as they crap all over the goods being stored in the whse). Even more surreal is my appearance as I have just caught sight of myself in the wing mirror. To say I look a little rugged is an understatement – very Indiana Jonesy – a bit trampy as well. I need to clean myself up a bit to feel human again.
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• Ah yes! How could I forget – there’s a CYCLONE approaching! Yes a big mother of all monsters CYCLONE! Not a storm, not a gale but a Goddaman motherfucking CYCLONE! I’m sorry it seemed to slip my mind there! Yes, the wind is definitely picking up and the (brown) sea is looking severely choppy. The port has been closed (hence lack of activity) the fishing boats are all returning to port and no ships are leaving. This cyclone was apparently supposed to hit towards the end of the weekend but has decided to visit Beira early. How come the only things that happen before they are supposed to in Africa are the bad things? Note: this is the same cyclone that moved it’s way on to devastate Madagascar . I didn’t catch her name. Sorry.

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“Lewis has instructed me to stay with the truck due to the fact that the winds mean that there is possibility that the huge liners along the harbour may crash against the concrete and everything in the surrounding area will fall into the sea. Fine. I suppose that’s one way of getting the bloody salamander out of the crack in the harbour. Nothing is surprising me now.”

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“After seeing the living standards here without a cyclone, I feel that things will be considerably worse when it hits, this could be in the next few hours or so – predictably enough they don’t know. The last time one hit Beira 6 fishing boats sank here in the harbour, one directly in the shipping lane, causing all manner of chaos. I think I need to get out of here to be honest. This trip is very quickly losing its charm and I am very anxious to leave this asshole end of the world.”

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“Upon observing the damage the Cyclone was likely to cause I have decided to make several enquires about the possibility of leaving. All the while I was explaining that it wasn’t that I didn’t want to stay, it was just that I had a lot of things organised back in Blantyre that I needed to take care of. Lying through my teeth of course. Buses do indeed travel to Tete daily and from there I would have to find my way to the Mwanza border and then connect to Zobway and onto Blantyre . The depot manager happily informed me “they’re really cheap!” – like that’s going to be a good thing. He also happily informed me that “yes there are buses!” to which I replied “fantastic” to which he retorted “ah, but it’s gone now”. Bastard!!!.”

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“I saw the buses he is referring to on the journey to Beira – they are packed to the rafters with people and take forever - it’s not the preferred option. I’m certainly not keen on the idea of waiting around until when ever people decide to do anything on Monday, so the only other option is AIRPORT! PLANES! – I’ve got $60 which I’m not sure will be enough to get a single flight to Blantyre . Maybe the VRB office can be contacted and they could pay for the ticket at that end? You know cyclone and everything – probably need to get the Fuck out of here considering conditions – they’ll appreciate that surely? Even if they refuse I don’t mind paying from my account back in England – I know I’m not supposed to touch it but this is an emergency! I will have to wait until I get back to the depot to find out more. I mean considering conditions……” Note: the airport in question is right next door to the depot and looked like it was operational.

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“If worse comes to the worse and I can’t escape, I will try to get to the places where human beings live. In some hotel, that has some sort of standard, I mean people who come here must stay some where that isn’t a brothel that has no electricity and water like the place from the other night. Places where I can do normal things, such as eat, drink, wash and use the toilet. Even a mirror for the love of God”

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“Loading is taking place reasonably quickly. Maybe it is possible that the customs situation could be resolved and we could make the entire 843km journey back to Blantyre with a load to slow us down by tonight? Hmmmm…..not bloody likely. Late Saturday even if we move now I suppose.

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That bastard at the depot in Tete – this is his entire fault! If he had let us go when we wanted to, we wouldn’t have arrived a day late, customs would be here and all would be fine and dandy, I could’ve even caught a different truck back to Blantyre like the one I saw on the way into Beira. Little did I know at the time, that it would have been my last option of escape. Bugger”

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“Drew is my boss, and a good one at that also he’s my friend. But right now he’s an asshole!!!! Testing me thinking that this would be a good experience! In What! Learning to appreciate working toilets, hot water and hygiene in general? Food, drinks, and sleeps great importance? Fancy sending me to a port from hell (interesting smell by the way) that has a cyclone approaching and the depot manager is away in Zimbabwe so no-ones expecting me – everything’s a disorganised load of old S**t!”

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“You know it’s 11.15am and there’s no sign of, well……anything really. No one knows when we’ll leave, no-ones talking about the possibility of food, or where I can get some cigarettes. Bastard’s. Seas looking even more violent now and I wish these people loading the truck would sing something better than this repeated nonsense currently being randomly shouted (allegedly this is singing). My headphones have run out of batteries as well. And another thing what is it with all the F**king staring all the time! What, because my skin is a different shade to theirs does this mean I’m going to break into a song and dance number or turn into superman or something?! F**k’s sake!”

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“O.K now the loading has finished, the workers have also finished cutting holes in the remaining bags and tipping rice into pockets before being chased off by a little Portuguese man who is some sort of manager (of what I don’t know) and Lewis is now in an office having a conversation - which seems to be taking a long time. No doubt this is to do with “documentation” as everything else is. It has been confirmed that we won’t be leaving until Monday after customs have finalised documents allowing us to move. Customs being customs this means late Monday afternoon. Lewis being Lewis this means we will stay the night in Tete. This means we will get back to Blantyre late Tuesday – if everything goes to plan. Then fly to Mombasa on Wednesday. Two words, and one of them is off”
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“One word: Plane – please god let it be. I am not staying here until the lord knows when with no facilities, transport, hygiene, contacts and people that speak a useful version of a language that I know. I am totally reliant on my Lucky St.Christopher at the moment, what a ****hole of a situation, I can’t wait to write the report”

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Note: At this point I feel it is important to remind the reader that stress levels are high at this time and that these are exact quotes from the journey as it happened. I do understand this is not conventional report writing but there is really no other way to put it.

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“Let’s look at the organisation:

1. The hold up of a day in Tete.

2. The manager in Beira being in Zimbabwe . A strange place to go and visit at the moment what with current events, but then again given the choice between the two I know where I would be…..

3. No arrangements made for anything.

4. This is not a place for human beings to live.

5. English and Chechewa are not spoken this far South.

6. I was not told any of this could take place.

7. There is the mother of all cyclones about to pay a visit.

8. There is the mother of all cyclones about to pay a visit.

It is like: “Thank-you for all your hard work and efforts, now please enjoy your educational visit to the bottom of the worlds toilet bowl, see you later, if you survive” – I could even end up missing the flight to Mombassa as a result of all this, I can’t believe I shook the hands of the people who sent me here!”
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“It is 12.30pm now and I need to be somewhere else. Anywhere apart from sitting in this hot baking truck with flies everywhere and the smell of something indistinguishable all around me. I’m still very fucked off, very hungry and in serious need of a shower and shave. One thing I’m noticing about the workers here is that when it comes to labour they are the laziest bunch of useless Fuckers in the world. Sure when they do something they work quite hard and O.K maybe the pay is not so good but for sitting around most of the time doing Fuck all they are the kings. Sitting, leaning, standing still and wandering around can be a job description”

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The next hour or so was spent driving around the depot, unhooking and hooking the trailer with the load and Lewis arguing and swearing with the depot manager as to whether he can leave the load at the port or whether he has to take it back to the depot. In the end due to problems hooking the trailer we return to the depot/pit without. The reason comments from this period do not appear is because they where mostly curses.
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“Conditions:

• Toilets - Sweet Jesus, I’m open to experience but I wouldn’t let animals use these toilets here. There seem to be some sort of bucket of stagnant water/ cup system that interacts with a hole in the ground that seems to be the common denominator. No paper, no flushing, no lights to see what you’re doing, no idea how it works, no interest in finding out. Rancid. I need to get back to Blantyre .
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• Showers – Well there’s a hole in the wall at the depot that spurts cold water at the centre of your forehead. Very cold water. I have now braved the shower and it was an interesting experience. If only I had a camera. So I have showered, if you can call it that. The shower block itself I wouldn’t consider washing cattle in – but it was this or continue in the present state. My definition of a shower consists of the use of hot water, soap, shampoo, for a long period followed by a towel. This consisted of an open stinking concrete compound with at first a burst and then a trickle of cold water (which I made sure I did not get in my mouth) for as long as I could stand it and then I dried myself with a rag. That is not a shower – that is getting a bit wet and drying yourself with a dishtowel. Fuck’s sake”

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7.30pm Friday 7th April: Focused On Leaving

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At this point the anger and stress while still evident had been controlled and there was now a robotic determination to remove myself from the area. This is the final comment before setting off on the next stage of the journey from hell. I ate and drank with the guys at GDC and caught a minibus at around 8.30pm after saying goodbye to all and thanking Lewis Jr. for all his help, for which I am truly thankful as he was also put in a difficult situation. De-De accompanied me and looked after me until the point at which I sat upon the bus. He was also truly fantastic throughout.

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“Right then mission on. Got myself a hat, some batteries for the headphones, changed some money and learned some vital pieces of language like “Quero Bitilay!” which translates as “I want a ticket!” here is the plan:

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No planes. At all. Ever in fact. No surprise really. Can’t ring out either phones don’t work.. Predictable. Here’s what I’m doing - Minibus to town – organise and find bus ticket to Tete which leaves at around 1 or 2am – should get to Tete at around 11 or 12 (probably1pm) – find GDC depot and enquire about possible trucks to Blantyre- if not find minibus to Zobway border – pass customs then cross to Mwanza – pass customs again and then Minibus to Blantyre. All in one day and then try and find Debbie and get to the lake. Big mission for someone like me (i.e. inexperienced and accident-prone) but there’s not much I can do about it, as it is the only option. As long as it all works to plan there shouldn’t be a problem.”

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“If I should die think only this of me – I was just trying to escape – A MAN HAS GOT TO DO WHAT HE’S GOT TO DO TO SURVIVE!”

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This is where I left the pen to paper report/diary/letter and set off on the journey from hell. As another matter of interest I think it important to also remember to mention that Mr.Tony Morland, Blantyre version of Del boy out of Only Fools and Horses and friend to both Drew and Mike Darby, actually visited the GDC depot in the morning. This was while I was stuck at the depot with the cyclone. He then travelled up to Tete later that day, no doubt in good time and in comfort and I missed him. Typical.

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The Bus journey to Tete was assuredly enough an hour late. During this time I managed to buy a ticket for 100000 Meticash. That is not as much as it sounds by the way, it’s actually $6.60. De-De and I talked with this man who seemed to speak English quite well; he was also making the journey to Blantyre to see his cousin in Limbe. I decided to make sure I tagged along with him to get me to my destination. When the bus finally arrived I had past the point of caring for comfort and just wanted to be somewhere else – fast. I thought I would sleep on the bus after going 24 hours without any but conditions did not allow.

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It was two hours or so after the beginning of the journey that the bus began to make its final splutters of mechanical failure that had been getting worse since the engine was started. The bus stopped near one of the villages on the outskirts of Tete and everyone was told to get off. It was at this point that I discovered our English-speaking friend did not speak English as well as first thought. When asked what the problem was, he replied smilingly “Yes”, when asked how long before another bus, he once again replied “Yes”. When I thought back to what he’d answered when I had said to him “so you speak good English then” he had also said “Yes” so there you go.

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It was dark and cold and in the middle of no-where as far I could tell but despite a few people wandering off, the general consensus seemed to be to wait by the roadside with the majority. I couldn’t tell how long it was by the time the next bus came but they must have been expecting problems and contacted Beira from the nearby village.

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Quite efficient really and also, after the recent experiences, quite surprising.

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Along the way we crossed a long wooden bridge in a severe state of disrepair barely wide enough for the Bus that was traveling upon it. I had crossed this in daylight on the way to Beira with Lewis and it was quite nerve wracking then – there was a fairly steep drop either side to a dried up river bed and not a lot in the way of civilisation anywhere close by should there be any accidents – crossing at night sitting in a bus that was in even worse condition than Lewis’s truck was more than a bit on the terrifying side – everyone that was awake stared out of the windows into the blackness trying to establish how close we were to the edges while our driver also seemed to be doing the same thing yet failing to appreciate that he was in control of the wheel at the same time.

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To his credit he got us across fairly quickly without event – I suspected this had more to do with luck than skill however.

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Next to the bridge covering the same space over the ravine was a brand spanking new concrete tarmac creation that looked perfect, apart from the signs and stone prevention blocks telling travellers the bridge was not yet open. Due to it’s pristine vision of perfection next door to the tree trunk and rope event ride we crossed upon, I could only judge that the reason we were not allowed to use it was documentation and somebody somewhere was waiting for the right amount of money to cross his palm before he would sign a piece of paper and open the bridge for public use.

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The arduous journey from there eventually arrived in Tete after several hold up’s where the driver saw fit to stop and go and visit friends and pick up more unneeded passengers who consequently had nowhere to sit and increased the already overcrowded situation and generally slowed things down. I had our useless translator asleep on my shoulder to the left and a woman & baby changing nappies on the right, which I might add I felt obliged to help out with due to being English and also due to wanting to get the stench taken care of as soon as possible.

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The sun baked everyone threw the window like ants under a magnifying glass and they played the same three song tapes over and over and over again. Sleep was impossible due to conditions, wallet watching and zombified state of mind. When I eventually saw the stinking pile of dilapidated confused chaos that is the city of Tete , it was like I had seen heaven itself…..

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Once in Tete at around 1 or 2pm, our useless English speaking parrot decided to make his way elsewhere choosing to go on to Blantyre the next day (NOTE: he probably knew that trying to get to Blantyre at this time was a possible exercise in futility – I didn’t know this). I meanwhile decided to head straight for the bus station and attempt to understand the surrounding madness to enable me to catch a bus to Zobway. I should have tried to find the GDC depot but it seemed a more logical option to catch the bus as the pick up point was at the end of the road. After catching a minibus to the border and have it take around 3 or 4 hours, during this period being overtaken by more than several GDC trailers, I knew I had made a slight error in judgment.

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Another error in judgment was to attempt to change money in Tete after you haven’t had any sleep for nearly two days and you aren’t exactly at your sharpest. I negotiated a rate for Dollars to Kwacha and promptly got ripped off to the tune of 600k. The cocky little so and so even showed me on the calculator and I figured it out only after he had just left. I followed him down the rubbish infested, dusty excuse for a road and he darted up one of the side alleys and I initially followed. His friends had also followed and where behind me when I managed to catch the guys attention to resolve the whole scenario.

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Things weren’t going anywhere and even though I had been initially lacking in common sense I had enough to realise that I was not in a good bargaining situation. Off the main road, surrounded by people I don’t know, all of whom knew how much money I had and probably thought I had a lot more – I made a hasty retreat and caught the bus.

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Oh another thing about Tete – it really stinks when it gets hot and seems to have the largest contingent of people sitting around doing sod all that I’ve seen on this planet.
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After the fight to actually get on the Mini Bus the enduring journey to the border took far more time than I had expected due to the constant stopping everywhere for no good reason other than “faffing”. At the Zambezi Bridge the bus was stopped and the driver was asked to show his documentation to the policeman at the roadblock. This took a long time to be resolved and judging by the state of the bus there was, no doubt, a problem.
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When the driver returned heartily laughing, the people on the bus cheered him on board. It was another example of how the people in that part of the world hail those that, despite being insignificant mentally deficient useless additions to society, are treated as kings because they get away with doing things via the back door:

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* What it meant when the driver came back laughing, was that the vehicle was not road worthy and he was probably not supposed to be driving it but he had got away with it by paying off the official.
* What it meant when the people cheered was that they, for some reason, thought that this was a good thing.

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At the Moz/Malawi border I had the good fortune to manage to catch a lift between the crossing points with a GDC trailer with a driver named Archibald who was suitably bemused by the whole scenario but had good grace to believe me and took me across. You see I wasn’t exactly looking respectable at this point after a weeks worth of intermittent sleep and food, no proper shower or a change of clothes and an exhausting journey to hell and back.

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Another worthy point to mention is that while on the delay ridden mini bus from Tete, I had no idea of the time or appreciation of the fact that if I arrived at the crossing point past 5pm I would have had to stay there the night as that is when it closes – in the end I made it by a whisker and shall never forget the name Archibald and shall probably name a pet after him one day (as kids called Archibald probably get beaten up in this day and age)

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Of course due to customs and problems with documentation Archie had to stay at the border so I was back to Minibus land. I didn’t care however because at least I was in Malawi by this point (around 5.30pm ). It says a lot about where I was that I refer to returning to Malawi as returning to civilisation but that’s certainly what it felt like. I nearly kissed the earth in fact.

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The final minibus journey with all it’s cello-tape windows, cramped conditions, metal bars for seats, smoke spewing exhaust and loose doors that kept falling off mid journey (seriously disconcerting upon reflection) more or less passed me by due to zombification. We were stopped by Uzi totting army folk who checked everyone’s bags and we also did a tour of Blantyre ’s suburbs until I was the only guy left on the bus realising that the city is a bit bigger than the small corner I could recognise as being the town centre.

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I got back to Blantyre bus station and Doogles back packer bar a broken man at around 8pm, to find everyone had gone to the Lake already (including the girlfriend) and to top it all I consequently had no key to get into the house as Paul and Sarah whom I lived with had gone too. By this point though, nothing surprised me and I rang Drew (my boss) to tell him I had made it back and would be found propping up the bar in Doogles – when he arrived he walked straight past me due to lack of recognition. I proceeded to muster what energy I had into a vitriol of abuse about my adventures directed in his direction and then got fantastically drunk and fell asleep with absolutely no encouragement what so ever.
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At least as a prologue to events I did manage to get to the Lake on the Sunday and find everyone including the girlfriend, so things didn’t end as badly as they seemed they had on Saturday. The whole thing seems amusing and unbelievable now but at the time it wasn’t very funny and it was very real! Ha! Bloody Ha!
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In Conclusion:
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I have a greater appreciation of quality of life, luck and the mystical powers of St.Christopher and that I do not want to be a trucker. Also if something is en-route it is definitely en-route and is certainly not as good as having arrived at its destination once it has left the yard. And for a country that at the moment people associate with being flooded there isn’t actually an awful lot of running water. In fact there isn’t an awful lot of very much apart from people doing not an awful lot.

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If I had to think of one word to sum up Mozambique it would be Documentation. What all these instances requiring the latter actually consisted of, I will never know, and why it always took so long I will never understand. All I know is I’m never going to Mozambique again unless I’m in control of every aspect of my own destiny and even then I will think twice. And then think again after that and decide against it.

Spo | April 17, 2000 | Comments
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