Thai style

This is the rugby world cup 2011 Thai style.

The Londoner pub was heaving with people. It was just like being in the stadium: there was a lot of noise, klaxons, whistles and lots of shouting at the big TV screen: "tackle them!" "heave" "Oh Johnny...not again."

Before, during half time and after the match, the Heineken beer ‘pretties’ (a regular part of selling here in Thailand) appeared to entertain us; well, probably not me… but there were promotions, quizzes and prizes of shirts and beer to be won. It was a good afternoon, particularly as we won... even if we played like turkeys quite a lot of the match. 

Halloween in Bangkok

Operation Cheer Up: in conclusion

I woke up feeling much less melancholy on Sunday. I’m still a bit disappointed, but hey, it doesn’t stop me writing does it?

Operation Cheer Up concluded with some self diagnosis:

• That I require a Sunday roast … so we went off to our local, The Londoner.
• That I need to watch Tootsie again. In the event, it was the thought of watching it that helped with the therapy.
• That this should be accompanied by chocolate. Okay, this one was more than just thought about. This one was literally executed!
• Following lunch I went with Husband for a foot massage at a place along our road. I had an hour’s foot massage, quite the best, most blissful one I’ve ever had, for the grand total of 100 Thai Baht/£1.60/$2.90 (plus tip.)

So I think that's it now: wallowing over. Thank you for your kind words and virtual hugs. They were very much appreciated.

Miscellanea

Today is … Sunday.

The end of half term.

Daughter’s 12th birthday. OMG. Where did that go? Just a few minutes ago I had small children… I turned round a couple of times and they’re both nearly teenagers.

Today, at the Londoner Pub for Sunday lunch I decided that I loathed my lead character’s name: Ursula. Sorry to any Ursulas out there. I don’t actually loathe the name – I like it, that’s why I chose it, but you know what? It just isn’t her. It’s not right and so I’m thinking Julia or Emily. What do you think?

I do have a personal preference here, but would be interested in your opinions. After the hilarious kerfuffle on A.Writer’s blog a few weeks ago here and here about names, I thought I’d run them past you all. ‘Lucy’ would be a perfect name for her … but obviously I can’t do that!

Oooh, and check out this photo of Son and Daughter celebrating Daughter’s birthday with the Londoner staff.

(Sorry for the blurry faces: at Son's insistence)

Worrying again... Sorry

I'm feeling decidedly Pantone 292 today.

Why? Why? WHY? When I've written about 3,000 words in two days, sorted out my personal issue, how can I still feel blue?

Why can't I stop worrying?

Today I am worrying for several reasons.

• I've doubled booked myself tonight. My friend S is having a 'Smoochie Smoochie' Party, which is like a tupperware party only for underwear. Smoochie Smoochie is a new, just launched, lingerie company set up by two British women here in Bangkok. It is a totally brilliant idea because farang women (white westerners) cannot buy underwear here unless they are narrow backed with small boobs. Those of us that are born with a chocolate habit, and built with knockers that require works of structural engineering (me) rather than vests, cannot buy bras. So I want to go and I've said I am. BUT...
• Our twice monthly quiz is on at the Londoner pub. I go with some of Husband's colleagues and any visitors we can recruit. We are the Soi Dogs team and you can see from the website that we really are spectacularly awful. It takes real skill to be that crap. I enjoy it though, I like going, I like the colleagues and I don't care about losing atrociously. They don't exactly rely on me (the two questions out of 100 I might actually get right, is really quite negligible) but I like the evening.
• I'm worrying that even though I'm writing, I've totally lost my voice. Obviously I don't mean I'm croaky voiced, I mean I'm not writing like me. I worry so much about 'How to Write' that I've gone lost all the me-ness about the story.

Now it's all okay, though: one day soon I will wake up less blue-feeling. Tonight I will go to the tupperware/underwear party first, then flit off to the quiz. I think maybe chocolate will solve my voice/me-ness problem, and then reading, not writing. And if chocolate doesn't solve it, it'll still be yummy.