27 October 2010

We woke  to a completely grey, overcast, sky. The first since we arrived. Apparently there had been to terrific storm shortly after I had laid down to sleep. Loud claps of thunder accompanied by lightning, none of which I was aware. It’s the old story, once my head hits the pillow I fall into a deep sleep, like a flat stone sinking to the bottom of a pond and it takes a great deal to wake me during the first three hours or so.. I suppose this is how I get away with so little sleep – my batteries must be on triple charge, albeit, for a short period – as the rest of the night is spent half -a- wake, cat napping.
Due to the overcast weather and lack of direct sunshine, with only one and a half days left, it is now clear that I will not be returning to the UK with a dark mahogany ‘ all over! ‘tan but will look more like a bundle of light oak tied in the centre with a white bandanna!
This evening was our last trip to town as tomorrow evening there is a weekly cocktail party and we have been invited to stay on for dinner as guests of the hotel. Having spent the morning on the ‘baking’ platform with the Barlow’s, they invited us to join them for a last meal at a newly discovered restaurant in the marketplace. This was a invitation we could not resist. We accepted and enjoyed the food every much as we had the evening before.
I must say meeting up again with the Barlow’s has added a certain sparkle to this holiday. The tinsel on an already well decorated Christmas tree. Undoubtedly, Michael will go to visit them in Cornwall and despite their living relatively close to my dear sister-in-law, Victoria, I know that logistically it would be difficult for us and therefore I will probably never see them again but will kept in touch, vicariously, through Michael..
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26 October 2010
I am just over halfway through Sister and am finding it increasingly fascinating. It is well written and her use of language is admirable. So far I would not classify it as a ‘ page turner’, however, I will defer my final judgement until I’ve completed the book and see what is the inevitable twist at the end.
The night before last we had the pleasure of the Barlow’s company at one of our favourite restaurant in town. This evening they took us to one of their favourite haunts, a restaurant roughly halfway between our hotel and the main town. Not being central therefore it was considerably cheaper than even the modest restaurants in which Michael and I usually eat. It was situated behind the stalls along a busy marketplace. The sort of restaurant which I have seen, over the years, and always hesitated to patronise. How wrong I was. I truly believe that the meal we had last night was probably the best that we have enjoyed since we arrived. The restaurant itself was clean and beautifully painted and the food was all individually cooked on an open/barbecue in front of the restaurant. Certainly if I ever came back here I should change the habit of a lifetime and probably abandon the Onn Onn Corner restaurant; the Bam Bam  and the Smile Moon in favour of eating in one of these restaurants..
Before dinner, we dropped into the tailor to pick up my three new pairs of trousers -total cost 3800 baht, a little less than £100. Excellent value.
On our way back to the car in the marketplace I attempted to purchase a belt, believe it or not some 45 inches long. Having found a stall that sold leather goods, John bargained with the lad who was in charge and got him down to 250 from me labelled price of 350. The bargain was struck and money started to change hands.. Now the form is in Thailand, at least that which I have come to understand over the 12 years or so I’ve been coming here, is that you start the bargaining by saying that the price is far too high and offer them just about half, or a little over, claiming poverty and being an old age pensioner etc. They will then counter offer you something little less than the asking price pleading that they have a large family to support and so on and then be true bargaining begins. You should end up paying no more than stay two thirds of the original asking price and even at that they are making a good profit. At that point, when you leave the stall  stallholder will still be smiling and you will think you got a bargain. A win-win situation. However ,last night John ’ done the deal’ at 250 Baht, a rather bad tempered man  appeared, presumably the boy’s father and started to berate the poor lad with Michael in the background protesting in saying it was not the boys fault. But to no avail there was no running after us with a counter offer so we walked away without the belt.
In China I found that if I pressed stallholder to hard, usually starting at no more than one third of the original asking price and going through the same process of pleading, poverty etc , if I misjudged the level at which he would deal and I was allowed to walk away, then my offer price was below that which the shopkeeper could make any profit whatsoever. Occasionally, I got it wrong and not very often..So last night bargaining efforts are a slight mystery to me.
We returned to the hotel a little bit later than usual but were able to watch the end of The Girl with the Green Dragon Tattoo. A really exciting film with a slight twist in its tail.
 Michael kindly  started me on a course of antibiotics today in preparation for the journey home. He.did not want to do so earlier in case there had been a recurrence of a chest infection which would then be much more difficult to deal with.. In any event, as a result I enjoyed another good night’s sleep
25 October 2010
I really hadn’t intended to do an entry today but I suspect that they were getting rather ‘samey’ but then I realised I should perhaps have mentioned last night’s video which was so ‘none-me’ as to be of interest to the reader. It is, or was – as we were too tired to finish it last night – a film about infamous street graffiti artists, the best-known of whom is Banksy. This particular individual has achieved international recognition and some sort of fame amongst the cognoscenti, but, amazingly enough, despite now putting on, presumably legally, vast exhibitions of his work in various parts of the world, and even making this particular film, Exit Through The Gift Shop, he has managed to conceal his true identity from all but a small inner circle., Not really my sort of film but one that has a certain fascination to it and I am certainly interested to see how it pans out.
I made the decision to mention this and therefore needed an entry today. Then, while I was having a rest this afternoon, I began to question why I was writing the blog at all. But then, of course, I  have explained and justified this, in the introduction to the blog. The blog is – no more, no less than a light hearted daily diary, from the time that I was diagnosed with Motor Neurone Disease to my deterioration and oblivion,
Whilst resting, my thoughts then turned to the whole concept of ‘the diary’ and my mind went back to the records I commenced as a young person and teenager over 60 years ago. I remember reading some of them, when I was  compiling my autobiographical notes, only to find them mundane to the point of boring and totally lacking in imagination. No deep philosophical questions about life; or why we are here; where we are going; or how we get there; and-all the things that the young man should be asking himself. Instead they were just a record of the nothingness of an unimaginative young man. Having said that, I was imaginative, I did read a great deal, I did think a great deal, I questioned a great deal, then why did I not record any of these rather deeper thoughts in my diaries at the time?
Anyone who has read this particular blog from beginning to end – and for such tenacity they earn my admiration – would have observed that it began by dealing with the fairly mundane, matter of fact, daily report on my health, or my reaction, or that of my family and friends, to the news of MND. Gradually, however it began to incorporate more detached philosophical matters affecting us all, whether sick or healthy. These are to be found in poetry, in records of discussion programmes on the radio or just something that I have observed which has touched me deeply at the time. Also the reader will observe that for some unknown and unexplained reason I began to include, what to some, might appear to be inconsequential rubbish such as the game of cricket or rugby, admittedly both of which I enjoy. Who knows, these comments might well appeal to others. In effect, I have enjoyed allowing myself the privilege of dealing with matters totally irrelevant to the blog itself. Maybe this is the reason why it seems to be achieving some sort of modest success and the number of hits will shortly go through the million mark.
Today whilst I took my afternoon rest, I wondered whether someone will ever take the trouble to consider publishing a distilled version of this record -Â perhaps as, The Professor’s Diary – not, of course, Mark Cato’s Diary. I am no Samuel Pepys or Anne Frank, but who knows with some savage pruning there may be left the essence of a thought-provoking tome. I will not be able to write such a book but maybe one of my grandchildren, or great-grandchildren, or even a ghost writer, will be inspired to do so. I would suggest that they interweave passages from the 800 odd pages of Autobiographical Notes already written into it.
The fascination is, that none of us, least of all me, know, how this blog will end. Will it be with a sudden crash on the main highway of life – an unexpected demise – or will it slide off into a quiet side turning, grinding slowly to a halt?
To return to the mundane, and therefore not to lose sight of the purpose of this blog, (to inspire others including those who might have physical or mental problems), I slept far better last night and am getting closer to normal, albeit a little short of breath when I lie down.
Incidentally, we did (almost) finish Exit Through the Gift Shop, and the hero, Thiery or Mr. Brain Wash (MBW), as he preferred to be called, caused a minor sensation in Los Angeles running a vast exhibition of modern Art. The citizens of Los Angeles loved it to the point of spending over US $1 million in the first week. The value of a piece of art  is what someone is prepared to pay for it. As you might imagine, MBW was not over popular with the more established street graffiti artists, many of whom were internationally renowned.
A second ‘incidentally’ I remember that this is the day that Boots, the Chemist, appraise my healthcare product. Will I receive another reasoned rejection, and if so, where, if anywhere, do I go from there?
24 October 2010
Last night’s sleep was the best I’ve had since I’ve been here. Almost back to normal — three pillows instead of two. With a light covering I was able to turn, by myself, from one side to the other, which was a great relief. I slept for three hours and then unfortunately had to disturb Michael for a few minutes in order to sit up to clear some phlegm. Then back to bed and did not wake until 06.25 AM – miraculous for me.
Apropos, yesterday’s entry and my comment re the renowned Trumpers rejection of my suggestion of a free haircut after 50 years patronage, I should have gone on to say, that since that time, some eight years or so ago, when my retort was ‘ that being said I will never darken your door again’, my hair has been ‘cut’ by ‘my lovely’ at no expense to me whatsoever, thus showing a very substantial savings in costs over the intervening years. Even in 2002 Trumpers charged £29 for what they euphemistically described as ‘a trim’ and by the time I had purchased the odd bottle of Lime Aftershave, or whatever, discreetly paid the ‘de riguer’ modest tip, into the outstretched hand of my ‘man’ as he held open the front door of that august establishment in preparation for my departure, one rarely escaped with enough from £100 to pay for a simple lunch.
Mind you there is a price to pay for this economy.
‘My lovely’ comes under the category of what I would describe as a ‘hedge trimming’ barber. They cut off new growth and old indiscriminately, to reshape the bush; a snip here and a snip there. Trimming, thinning and layering has no place in their vocabulary even when they have the correct tools. Michael comes into the same category as ‘my lovely’ and very kindly ’hedge trimmed’ my hair today. As to the implements each of these distinguished barbers use, I have always suspected that ‘my lovely’ employs the same shears as she does for the donkey, but, she assures me, she does not use the same comb and brush! Michael, on the other hand, at least, borrowed some ‘stationery scissors’ from the front office.
A slightly longer ‘bake’ on the platform this morning before returning to our room to update this blog.
This evening, after a visit to the tailor for Michael to pick up trousers and shirts that he had ordered, we met up with the Barlow’s and took them to the Onn Onn, Corner Restaurant, for some of the wonderful scallops that we had been boasting about. We ordered, only to have the girl return with the message ‘that scallops are off’. Apparently, the scallop man, who normally delivered daily, had had an accident – but then our waitress laughed “perhaps it was his wife who had the accident†she explained. Just what sort of accident we never quite discovered – an accident nevertheless which meant that there were no fresh scallops on the menu that day, other than one tired old portion from yesterday.  Then for some extraordinary reason, no doubt kindly meant and no matter how much I protested the others insisted that they were for me. Bear in mind this was the third night running that we found ourselves in this restaurant and the third night running that I was to eat scallops. I would dearly have loved to have ordered something else. However, what the others ate suited them nicely and all were duly impressed.
Back to the hotel, with the Barlows in tow. We invited them for a drink and they arrived shortly after, bringing their own supply of whisky. We sat in the warmth of the evening on the veranda overlooking the lagoon, talking inconsequential nonsense but, nevertheless, a pleasant interlude. Relaxing in this manner was something we have sought since we arrived but have been thwarted most evenings by The Monsoon rains.
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23 October 2010
Again, an okay night. I started off in Michael’s  ‘nest’ but after a couple of hours sitting on the bones of my bottom this became extremely uncomfortable and I really had to move. The duvet was too heavy and trapped my weak legs so it was no easy task. However, I managed to slip onto my right side which moved me down the bed in a fairly flat position. Surprisingly I found that I could still breathe. This was the position in which Michael found me in the morning and he declared that there was no further need for ‘nests’ and that I should sleep ‘normally’ from now on!
Apart from his many other ‘ duties’, Michael has taken over my shaving with a blade razor. He did not approve of my electric razor, which I must admit has not been doing its job very well. After all I’ve used it for about 10 years. This, in addition to feeding me as it is rather difficult to feed myself without my equipment. Fortunately Michael consumes food at twice my pace and so is able to offer up a spoonful between every two or three mouthfuls of his own. It works well. He now threatens to get hold of some scissors and cut my hair, a task undertaken by Alice over the last couple of years. The world renowned Trumpers, in Curzon Street, refused to give me a free haircut after being a loyal customer for 50  years. I remember, once sitting there waiting for a haircut with Sir Alec Guinness. He was an old man then and I could not resist telling him the enormous amount of pleasure that I, and, no doubt millions of other people, had derived from his wonderful acting. Not only from those wonderful. Ealing Studios’   comedies, such as Kind Hearts and Coronets; The Ladykillers; The House Of Lords, etc. but  many more, including more recently,  Star Wars. Sir Alec was, what you might describe, a portly, well dressed and dignified old gentleman quietly waiting his turn for his regular meeting with, no doubt, some barber, even more ancient than himself, who worked in  this renowned establishment   which claimed generations of Royal patronage. My own ‘man’ was over 80 and had gone part-time, and indeed deigned only to cut the few remaining hairs of his longest and most faithful customers. He found standing all day too tiring. Sir Alec could have commanded the presence of his own ‘man’ for a domiciliary visit but then no doubt this would have been extortionate. Indeed, it seemed to me, that even going to such an establishment itself was somewhat excessive. He graciously smiled and with a slight nod of the head, acknowledged my compliment – nothing more.
Dropping famous names I cannot resist mentioning my brief friendship with James Mason.
Last evening Mick and I watched that classic film, The Desert Fox in which JM magnificently portrayed  Field Marshal Rommel. Our first meeting took place in a queue in San Francisco. We had been travelling either to or from London, to New York, when the flight we were on made an emergency landing and, as some sort of compensation, we were given drink vouchers and thus the queue. The tall dark haired, strikingly handsome, gentleman in front of me turned, and, proffering his hand, said ‘my name’s Mason,  James.’ Following an enforced hour or two together, while the emergency was resolved, a   friendship sprang up between us and when he came to London, he kindly invited me to have dinner with him at The Grosvenor House Hotel in Park Lane,  Mayfair. Over the next couple of years, or so, I received the odd postcard from him, from Switzerland, where he  resided between  films. Then the correspondence ceased. After all we had been ‘only ships that passed in  the night’!
Now, I’m away!
I remember, though it must have been some 18 years ago, being ‘thrown out’ of the dining room at the Garrick Club at 02.30 in the afternoon – which was their practice, in those days-and spending the afternoon in the common area under the stairs outside, drinking with Kingsley Amis (wasn’t he the chap who wrote all those James Bond books?) I was doing my MSc at King’s College, London, at the time and was rather late for my evening meeting with my tutor. I arrived, I suspect a little the worse for wear.
These three gentlemen are mentioned in what is undoubtedly the shortest chapter, in the Miscellaneous Section of my Autobiographical Notes — The Few Famous People I Have Known…. but I digress, back to Thailand.
Today was the hottest and finest day we have had so far. Mike and I spent an hour and a half or so on the sun bathing platform with the Barlows, until it became too hot. We returned to our room to read or whatever to while away the time until lunch and my call to home and ‘my lovely. Then snooze, and some more of Sister (getting more interesting) until four o’clock, and time as ever, for the first G&T and whisky for Michael.
22 October 2010
The nest worked. After a bit of a struggle Michael got me into it and after I had taken a grip on myself and calmed down. I relaxed by taking slow deep breaths and my breathing became more controlled. Perhaps it was Michael’s threat to send me to a hospital if I didn’t fxxxxxxx pull myself together that did the trick! As a result I had the best sleep for the past three nights.
Mid-morning Michael managed to drag me like a dray horse, through the  lush bushes and trees to our old sun bathing platform, across the lagoon. The hotel staff have been absolutely marvellous and put in a number of ramps and cut back the bushes to make the journey possible. I enjoyed just one hour as a first off not wishing to overdo it but it was pleasant to be back. John and Geraldine Barlow were there and we were able to have a good chat.
Back to our room it was then time for my box of fruit lunch and my daily call to, ‘my lovely’ (never willingly missed over the past 48 years). The call went straight through. Then I got stuck into “Sister,†written by Rosamund Lupton  the clever daughter of my friends, the Orde-Powlett’s. The book is causing  a sensation and already, within months, is in many foreign countries and has exceeded publishing records. I had downloaded it through Amazon using ‘Kindle’ software, before I left home. (£3.02 against Waterstones offer for the same
e-book for £7.54). Later, I will let the readers know my reaction
As I sit here, on our enclosed veranda, overlooking the lagoon, it is raining heavily — as it has done most afternoons about this time since we arrived — and we are probably in for another one of those phenomenal ‘Mother of all Storms’. What effect the noise of the storm will have on my dictation will be interesting to observe. Fortunately my Buddy Gooseneck microphone with Dragon Naturally Preferred 10 and the PC, still recognises my husky voice with a reasonable degree of accuracy.
Tonight is the night of  the weekly cocktail party. It  is usually held near the beach and  is followed by a sumptuous Thai buffet and entertainment . This year the hotel increased the cost of this buffet to 1300 baht (£70), the price to include ‘free-flowing beer’, which will, no doubt, appeal to the large contingent of Germans and others who are here. However it does not appeal to us
In any event, we sent our apologises to the management’s for their kind invitation. Apart from our lack of interest in the free-flowing beer there were two other reasons why we felt we could not participate.
One, was the problem of getting anywhere near the beach with the wheelchair and second, how I would survive such a long social gathering – I do get tired towards the end of the day, more so with my limited sleep. The irony, is that due to the rain, the whole event had to be switched, upstairs under cover to the restaurant adjacent to reception. There is no way we could have managed that without a phalanx of bearers
So, it was off to town for us as usual. Tonight to the Onn Onn, Corner Restaurant, for some of our favourite scallops.
21 October 2010
I had a better night last night. Mick had cleverly worked a system of cushions and pillows which held me in a semi-upright position, partly on my back or side so as to facilitate my breathing. It worked, except being unable to move and still coughing, from time to time, I  had to satisfy myself that I was at least resting, if not sleeping. I know that I watched the hours go by and was delighted when it reached 2.00 AM, knowing that I had survived half the night without disturbing Mick and asking him to sit me up. It’s certainly possible that I cat-napped, here and there for 10 minutes or so, but I do know I kept an eye on the clock all night until 6.10,AM when I felt not unreasonable to ask Mick to sit me up.  Besides he is a natural early riser.
.We enjoyed our breakfast,  the first real food for two days for both of us. In my case it will certainly do no harm for me to miss the odd meal to reduce the size of my waistband. As usual we messed about in our room during the morning, with me doing my blog and Mick correcting medico legal reports. . Then, he wheeled me out in my wheelchair for an hour or so in the sunshine where I sat blissfully listening to the exquisite Russian singing of the St Petersburg  Choir. Then back to the room for lunch and the box of fruit, collected at breakfast, that I routinely have when I am here.
Then it was time to ring ‘my lovely‘ who returned yesterday from Cornwall. Rather perturbed in that she did not answer the telephone at 07.30AM which is the usual time I ring  so she always knows who the call is from. I could not believe that she was still sleeping or was outside attending to the donkey. I tried again an hour later, again, with no response. This was getting a little alarming with visions of her having had an accident on the way home. In the event all was fine. It seems that, Mike, being unfamiliar with my fairly basic Nokia, may well have been ringing the wrong number! (Editors note-this is true!)
The rest of the day followed our usual pattern. Again we dropped off at the tailor on the way into town. The tailor had been unable to find the striped blue cotton material I wanted for one of the pairs of trousers I had ordered. We ate at the restaurant next to the Onn Onn, Corner Restaurant, Â the Smile Moon. I had a perfectly satisfactory meal of steaming seafood and delicious fried rice. Michael enjoyed a large bowl of spicy prawn coconut soup.
Then, following our usual routine we were back for our evening movie.. A very sad story set in the year 2929 called “The Roadâ€. In effect the world is dying, and from what cause we never precisely found out but suspect it was because of global warming. The film focuses on a man and his nine-year-old son tramping the roads searching everywhere for food, clothing  and shoes. There seemed little to live for as much of humanity was dead except for a few mauradering tribes, armed to the teeth, and prepared to kill anyone they came across for what little they might find. No happy ending either. The boy’s father dies and the lad meets up with another small friendly family. Heaven knows where they were going and how they were going to survive.
In the meantime Michael’s ingenuity had been at work and a totally new structure of pillows and cushions were set up on my bed to ensure that I could sit up as high as possible during the night. The only difficulty was how to get me into the little nest he had prepared.
20 October 2010
I had the worst night yesterday since my 22nd. birthday in 1956, in , Melbourne Australia when I suffered from the worst case of chickenpox “doctors had ever seenâ€. I was boarding at the time between flats, with Mrs Hetherington and her pretty 16-year-old daughter, in Brighton . I contracted the chickenpox as a result of spending the night in the same bed as another man, It happened like this. Tony Carpenter and I were members of the same ski lodge, Fien, in Mount Buller, some 200 km north  east of Melbourne. We frequently went up during the season just for the weekend. On this particular occasion snow blizzard’s were forecast so we decided that we would drive up after work and spend the night at the foot of the mountain, negotiating the narrow, winding mountain road in daylight.
We arrived at the lodging house at the foot of the mountain around midnight. Tony had made the booking by telephone over a very bad crackling line and the proprietor had misunderstood his request and thought he was booking a room for himself and his wife. So when we arrived, the prprieter looked askance and said she was very sorry that there was only one room in which there was one large brass bed. We either took that or had no bed for the night. I said to Tony, to hell with it, let’s go for it, we can always sleep top to tail, which is what we did.
I was the first to wake in the morning and when I looked at Tony I could see that his was covered in red spots. He had broken out over night with a virulent attack of chickenpox. Nevertheless we set off up the snow-covered mountain track but as soon as the authorities got wind of Tony’s condition he was whisked off in a helicopter,  with little fuss so as not to cause  panic in the resort. I was fine and stayed on for my fortnights skiing only to break out in spots myself two weeks later .When I say that I was one of the worst cases in medical history I not joking. I had a batch of sports on my head, spots on my eyeballs on my tongue and on every part of my body, all of them itching like mad. Throughout the night of my   birthday I paced the room all night going crazy with the itching and in the end poured a bottle of calamine notion over my head to give me some relief.
On the way up the mountain, the next day, we were following young Peter Brockurst, heir to the biscuit fortune, driving his father’s new car, when suddenly it slipped off the road .and hurtled 60 feet or so, down a ravine ending upside down in a stream. We stopped and quickly prepared to descend the mountain in order to effect a rescue, apprehensive as to what we would find, when suddenly Peter appeared, grinning all over his face, clutching a bottle in each hand and saying thank God the grog was not broken. What on earth he told his father we shall never know. The car was winched up the following day
Last night came in the same category. Somehow I had contracted laryngitis followed by a chest infection  which made it very difficult for me to breathe particularly when I lay down, supported by three pillows. Not being able to breathe made me panicky and this further aggravated the situation. Although I could relieve it from  time to time, by turning on my side, I remained frightened.  I asked poor Mick  to sit me up at around 12.15 AM for a short period and then tried  lying again but it was no good. I spent the next three hours or so gasping for breath, wheezing, gurgling and rattling like someone on the point of death. It was useless, in spite of sitting up and changing position several times.  Around 04.00 AM.  Michael  kindly sat me up again and I spent the next two and half hours sitting on the edge of the bed with the duvet wrapped around one of my shoulders .and a  handkerchief and spittoon nearby. Michael appeared from time to time to encourage “three deep breaths followed by three coughs in a row, without a breath between coughs – come on – try harder-don’t just make noises in your throatâ€!
I felt pretty rough and very tired and spent most of the day sitting on the veranda adjacent to our room. At one stage I felt nauseous but that soon passed.  I had little to eat all day
Mick gave me some water tablets to drain off as much excess fluid from my body,  including (he hoped) some from my lungs. The only problem was I needed to pee about every 30 minutes or so throughout the morning.  We skipped our usual visit to town in the evening. Michael, stoically, also missed the evening meal. We watched a couple of videos and   attempted an early night. Michael proclaimed some improvement and then set about organising my bed.
19 October 2010
I woke up very early but had no idea what time it was but suspected as it  was not much past one o’clock. The nights are the worst time for me, particularly here were I cannot listen to the wireless as I do at home, for fear of disturbing Mick.. Also, my breathing is not getting any easier and is particularly bad when I lie flat on my back. I slightly improved the situation last night by using a third pillow. The other problem was that from about three o’clock onwards I wanted to have a pee but did not like to wake Mick who was sleeping soundly in the other bed but, to give him his due, he had made it clear that he really didn’t mind.
Although we got to breakfast at. a respectable 7.30 the room was already humming with guests.. I cannot remember it being so busy, so early in the morning, in any of the 12 years since I have been coming here. We saw both Tim Boda and his right-hand man, Sam who informed us that they were having a good season, something approaching 80% occupancy, which is very satisfactorily from their point of view. Most of the guests seemed to be European so, so much for the credit crunch.
We had intended to spend an hour or so,, in the early morning, on our platform across the lagoon but somehow the time slipped away in messing about with our computers and waiting for someone to fix the television and it all became too late. In any event, after Michael had carried out a reconnoitre he decided that the access to the platform, which was mainly grass, would be too difficult with the wheelchair. However, imagine Michael’s surprise when who should be find sitting on the platform but John and Geraldine Barlow, two people from Cornwall, with whom we had struck up a friendship a couple of years ago. In the end I made do with half an hour sitting in wheelchair outside our room. Where, in times past, I have been happy to lie in the baking sun, hour after hour, I now realise I must take it much more gently..
After our four o’clock gin and tonic or rather, in Mick’s case, a long whiskey on rocks, we picked up our driver at the reception, at 5.45 to go into town. On the way to the restaurant we stopped off at our favourite tailor, Danush of Royal Boss, whom, I have patronised over the past 10 years.. I took him four pairs of trousers to be copied, Velcro instead of the fly and again more Velcro and loops at the top. Danush was horrified when I told him that instead of the 36 inch waist, that he had made for me last time, these four pairs of trousers were to have the a 40 inch waist. In addition, I asked him for a pocket in the inside of the left leg, sitting 6 inches above the hem, large enough and deep enough to accommodate a partially filled leg bag. This is in anticipation of wearing a leg-bag, connected to the plastic pouch on the new incontinence pants which were provided to me recently, by Sue. This will take the place of the kilt in the colder weather at Worlington!.
We then drove to the Temple car park where I was downloaded into the wheelchair. We had decided this evening, to return to what was undoubtedly the best restaurant of its kind in Hua Hin, the Bam Bam, until last year, when it seemed to take a dive. In the old days we  would have to wait 10 minutes or so to get a table, from one or other of the expats, as evidence of its superiority.
This evening, apart from a rather sad looking, middle-aged, gentleman, we were the only customers there. This said it all. The food certainly was  not up to snuff. The squid was distinctly rubbery and certainly not fresh. We made short shrift of this rather disappointingly meal  and picked up our taxi to return to our hotel to watch our evening video.
18 October 2010
I wake up around 5.30 and hearing Michael stirring cajoled him out of bed so that I could attend to a call of nature which we cleverly managed with me remaining in bed lying down -without the self elevating NHS bed, the business of getting me up in a sitting position was always going to be a problem. We rose around 8.00 — much later than our normal time when we’re in this resort and it was almost 9.30 before we got into breakfast. We were greeted like long lost friends by two of our favourite staff members – Porn (an unfortunate name in English is not easy to translate. I have been given to understand that broadly speaking it means giving, generosity and also happiness) in the breakfast room and Alec from the front desk in reception both assuring us that anything they could do to make our stay happier or more comfortable one, we only had to ask..
 Both were clearly very pleased to see us and, for the first time in 12 years or so since I’ve been coming here, both gave me a bit of a hug. Very un-Thailike to make such an emotional gesture a foreigner.  I suppose they felt sorry for me sitting in a wheelchair, although I have no doubt that there sentiments were genuine. In fact the whole hotel staff from the director, Tim Boda and his Swiss deputy, Sam could not have been kinder. The housekeeping staff even made some special cushions for a couch on the balcony to make it harder for me and therefore easier to get on and off.
We are still in the rainy season here and the day started overcast with little direct sunshine. Mick had some and reports to attend to so we decided to skip the time that we had planned to spend on the sun beds on the platform across the lagoon. I happily spent the morning on a comfortable couch on our balcony listening to Beethoven adagios and watching the small egrets hopping from leaf, to leaf, amongst the beautiful pink water lilies, picking off the unsuspecting insects.. Comfortably warm and blissfully happy.
During our breakfast session, Porn kindly filled my plastic box with fresh pineapple and mango which is my normal lunch when I’m in this resort. That consumed and the blog updated. the magic of four o’clock came round — by tradition, time to order the ice for the gin and tonic, although today it had to be gin orange, as we have not yet been to the supermarket for the tonic..
Before dismissing our splendid taxi driver last evening I had booked him to pick us up  at 5.45 to take us into Hua Hin, first for a brief stop a supermarket and then to down load us — me in the wheelchair – in the Temple car park close to the restaurants where we intended to eat. This all worked without a hitch and we were fortunate enough to find a man up the steep curve near the Onn Onn orner restaurant where we feasted on our favourite meal of scallops and seafood fried rice.. then back to our room for a video of a relatively early night
D. Mark Cato
D. Mark Cato