Geordie's Platter

My mother would have been proud of me. Just cooked a big dollop of pease pudding, Geordie style and a very tasty cottage pie...Kempie style. Out of his world, or as some might say "yummy yummy", not my favourite word to sum up my exquisite cooking, but some seem to like it. A few beers tonight should add the finishing touch

Brings back the rhyme:

Pease pudding hot 

Pease pudding cold,

Pease pudding in the pot,

Nine days old.

Not exactly Lord Tennyson, but brings back a few memories all the same. Remember taking fresh pease pudding and freshly cooked ham stuffed into a stotty (Geordie loaf) down the pit when I was a young bairn of 16. My pit pony, Jackie, loved them. Not sure who farted the most, me or Jackie.

Rejoice

Just back from an enlightening 2 day trip to Fang and all points north into the hills and valleys of northern Thailand. As I had visited that part of the countryside on several occasions previously, the trip in itself, although passing through many scenic locations, didn't qualify to be described as  enlightening. What made it enlightening was what I experienced while there and the sweet and sour memories that lingered with me on my return journey. Sweet because I witnessed first-hand the incredible inner strength that some of the people I met displayed and made me feel humble in their presence. Sour because of the effects of the stigma some others were forced to endure from their neighbours and sometimes their own loved ones. I am talking, of course, about the human immunodeficiency virus (HIV)

I was fortunate to be in the company of 3 hard working and totally dedicated young gentleman, employed by the northern Thailand charity foundation "Rejoice Charity". They are affectionately known as "The Three Men and A Truck" charity by the local communities and HIV patients they cheerfully present with, Formula Milk, sweets, snacks, cast-off clothing but most of all a listening ear and ever-ready words of sympathy and understanding, something which can be in very short supply in their local community. Their role in  supporting children, families and communities in rural Chiang Mai Province can be a daunting and sometimes thankless task and one which, unfortunately, the end is not in sight. Read more about them and the work they do here. 
During all the time I spent with them, which included an overnight stay in a Fang hotel and a few refreshments before  dinner, not once did I hear or detect a hint of dissatisfaction, frustration or disagreement (except, maybe, who's round it was to buy the beer!) and how well they deserved that cool refreshing liquid after their gruelings day's work. They'd soon be up and back on the road again, together with local Health Care Workers (all HIV infected) visiting another batch of needy locals, some hilltribe and some Thai. Never showing signs of hurry or time constraints and always leaving the impression that they had travelled from Chiang Mai, solely to visit them. 
A mention must be given to the volunteers, themselves infected with the HIV virus, who assist the doctors and nurses at the various rural hospitals and clinics who's help is invaluable and rightly deserve the title of "Angels of the North". Of course, what charity doesn't need donations and sponsors and Rejoice is very much in the same financial dire straights, even more so because of the below-the-radar operation it employs, thereby only just managing to survive almost on a day-to-day basis. They also operate a school sponsorship scheme which, for small amounts, can make the difference between a child getting a worthwhile education, in many cases up to university level and scrounging day-to-day in the squalor and grime of their lowly existence. 
Having lived in Thailand for almost 20 years I am fully aware of the numerous charities, orphanages etc that exist in and around and beyond the Chiang Mai area and all doing incredible work for their organisation. All, except maybe the large international christian sponsored, needing assistance, in one form or another, but believe me if Rejoice, who are not having any regular or reliable sponsorship, become unable to continue their outstanding work, it could be the difference between life and death for many of the people who rely on them so desperately.

Journey of a Lost Soul

23 October 2018
Starting this diary on my smartphone to hopefully help me get a grip on the weight problem. Also to put some thoughts down on paper in case Alzheimer's kicks in, God knows everything else seems to be. Yesterday's water-fast was quite successful, made a bit of a pig of myself around midnight though! Will try again today, hopefully it will be as successful if not more so.

Read up again on my health check-up report from Rajavaj hospital re. a few possible problems, which I won't go into. The weight problem was again highlighted, especially with the gout playing up, how many times do I need to be told!! Happy, though that the new medicine for the osteoarthritis in the knees seems to be doing some good.

Have I had such a great life that I deserve all this comeuppance? It's all relative I guess. Some would say I got a raw deal, others may say I got off lightly. 
Need to dig out the "Easy Way to Lose Weight" book. Was a great help the last time. So why did I stop? Good question.

Still on my bed at 8 am, this new smartphone has a lot to answer for.

Feeling quite peckish, tried drinking water, then drinking more water, talking to myself, even having a haircut, but it was the KFC that finally did the trick!

Weight: 117 Kg/257 lbs/18.4 st (and for those who haven't caught up yet): 2.3 cwt!

Rutted

We're half-way to 2018 already? Seems like I’ve been asleep for years. And maybe I have. At least in terms of living a purposeful life. Felt that the proverbial ‘rut’ was widening and sucking me into its belly. The Collins New Dictionary defines ‘rut’ as “a narrow or predictable way of life, dreary or undeviating routine.”(not the alternative: “sexual excitement of male ruminants”, I hasten to add!) Yep, I guess that’s about it, seems to fit the bill, or at least did.

That’s not to say that being in a rut is necessarily an undesirable state for all. There are many who languish in its sanctuary, and indeed wouldn’t (or couldn’t) have it any other way.

It was Arnold Bennett, the British Novelist who said: “The great advantage of being in a rut is that when one is in a rut, one knows exactly where one is.“
But Ellen Glasgow, the American Novelist suggests: .”The only difference between a rut and a grave is their dimensions“

Take your pick.

Nowhere Man

Was having a quiet drink the other night in a local downtown Chiang Mai pub with a friend, talking about this and that but mainly the other. In the background, local songsters were playing their own rendering of the Beatles song “Nowhere Man” I knew it was this song because my friend did the interpretation.

Not that the song wasn’t in English, it was, or at least was meant to be, it was just that, well to be kind, it needed a wee bit more practice. Not that yours truly could have done a better job, but I tend to keep my sorrowful serenading behind my shower curtain and not contaminate the all-ready over contaminated Chiang Mai air with more pollution.

As the song reached its welcoming end my friend said to me in a thoughtful manner “You know, you’re a bit of a Nowhere Man”. I thought nothing of it at the time but later I reflected on what she had said and what caused her to say it, “..a bit of a Nowhere Man”. Ok, so it was out with the lyrics and on with the MP3. At the end I could see where she was coming from... but alas not where I was going!

What's it all about!

Have you ever been in a position (No, not that position JJ!) when you say to yourself “What the f****** h*** (flipping heck) am I doing here!” I don’t mean here in Chiang Mai, I mean here on this God forsaken planet! That’s if you believe there is a God to have done the forsaking in the first place. I have travelled extensively around Arabia, Asia and the back streets of Newcastle-upon-Tyne and had many a reason to doubt the ‘Maker’s’ existence. My Irish catholic mother (bless her) would be turning in her grave, to hear her only, ex altar boy son utter such heresy. But doubt has a lot going for it.

Without going into Tsunamis, Middle East conflicts and Newcastle and Sunderland derbies, there are countless, seemingly insignificant, experiences anyone of which is qualified to sow those nagging, irritating, inconvenient seeds of doubt in, what is already, a confused mind.

Where was the descending finger when I asked for another pint of the devils brew in my local the other night and ended up serenading the ugliest Lady of the Night to be found on the backstreets of Chiang Mai. Or the time on the golf course when I chose the wedge instead of the 9-iron and plonked it straight into the water. Where was He I ask! And so on, and so on...

93 Year Old Australian Charged With Rape

Despite the seriousness of the case I had to smile at the recent incident involving a 93 year old Australian guy who was recaptured in Myanmar having fled from Chiang Mai following rape charges. He is accused of raping 4 girls under the age of 15 at a local village in Doi Saket.

Although he has pleaded not guilty, should he be convicted it is understood he could be sentenced up to 20 years in prison. But the good news for him is he may only serve 10 years of that. At 103 years old it is considered unlikely that he will still be a threat to society...but you never know! Lock up your daughters!