I’m very excited to announce the launch of my new blog aimed at expatriates in Thailand, and particularly those in (or thinking of moving to) the resort town of Pattaya. This is my major project right now, and a lot of work has gone into it. Your feedback is most welcome. You can visit Expattaya.com here.
Allow me to put the largely artificial outrage about the use, by some, of the term “happy holidays” instead of the more specific “merry Christmas” to one side.
So, as we say in Australia, have a good one. This blog will resume sometime in the new year once I sort out what it is I want to achieve with it, and with my life.
I recently celebrated my 58th birthday. Well, when I say “celebrated”, I mean “grudgingly resigned myself to acknowledging”.
Nobody likes the idea of getting older. And it’s especially difficult if it’s combined with the sense that your shelf-life is about to expire thanks to shifts in the job market that seem to favour younger people with less experience.Continue reading “Over the hill at 58? I certainly hope not”
“What are you looking at, you fat c–t?” I was walking down the street and had turned around to see where all the noise was coming from. Of course, it was coming from the bloke who called me a fat c–t because I had turned around to find out where all the noise was coming from.
I admit to being fat. The accuracy of the other descriptor is subjective, I suppose, but it is undoubtedly offensive to many people. So, what right does this bloke have to shout that phrase very loudly in a public place?Continue reading “Is it my shout? Or should I stay cool, calm and collected?”
The last time I saw Priscilla, she was in fine, somewhat feisty form. Although most nights she’d simply find a comfortable cushion and take a nap, on Thursday she was full of beans.
She was clearly in a playful mood when she followed her family to the beach to float their lit loi krathong baskets in the ocean — an annual Buddhist ritual symbolising the letting go of hatred, anger and defilement. The next morning, she was dead.Continue reading “Farewell Priscilla, queen of Mae Ramphueng”
A few weeks ago, by no means for the first time, I received some unsolicited advice about my weight from a man I hardly know. Out of nowhere, amid a discussion about something else entirely, he posited: “Have you tried papaya juice?”
Before I could ask what the hell he was talking about, he proceeded, proudly, to tell me how he’d lost 12 kilograms (26 pounds) in a month by drinking a glass of papaya juice every day. He even said he’d give me some to try.
I stopped counting how many of my friends and former colleagues had passed away when I realised that a lot of them were my age or younger at the time of their death.
I’m 57 as I write this; 58 very soon. A quick internet search tells me that the life expectancy for Australian men is 82.45 years. If that’s the case, I should be good for about another 24 years. Except that, according to this calculator, 67 is about my lot. Coincidentally, or not, that’s the age at which I can claim a state pension (if such a thing still exists then).Continue reading “After my final newspaper deadline, the search for me begins”