Full Moon Party.

Imagine the biggest party you can, then double the size, then add at least a couple thousand more people, mix in a hell of a lot of alcohol, sprinkle with drugs, liberally douse in dance music and then add fire. Welcome my friends, to the Full Moon Party!

I've been to a fair few parties in my time. I have even been to a little get together at the Savoy (oh yeah, Yorkshire boy done good!) but all of these pail into insignificance when measured against the Full Moon Party. This party stretches the entire length of a beach. At either side are kick ass bars, all across the beach are more stalls selling everything from buckets (literally) of alcohol to chicken bits on sticks and neon body painting. There are lights, there are crazy structures to dance under and there are fire dancers. Then there is more fire, then fire with audience participation (always a good idea when you are drunk and off your face on drugs) and to finish it all off there is alcohol, drugs and fire.

You may be noticing a running theme here.

This party was amazing. There were times when I was just stood there, looking over the beach at everything going on and thinking to myself, "wow". It really is something you have to see to believe. No amount of description can adequately communicate what it is like to be there, see it, smell it, taste it and most important of all, be a part of it.

It's not all glitz and glamour though. As always there was an ample supply of losers on display. The most memorable image of excess that I took away from the party was two English girls. Two, overweight English girls. Both wearing really tight tops and jeans, almost as if they were designed to highlight the excess weight these ladies were carrying around and with special seams to push a tyre right out in between the top and trousers. While I was sat on a step catching my breath these hotties started dancing in front of me. Eyes looking at some distant point, they were one with the music. Both holding a small plastic bucket full of vodka and coke, at least six straws in each, splashing it all over there white trousers and sloppily trying to take a drink while still dancing. They stood there dancing for a while and moved on.

The Full Moon Party, best enjoyed drunk.

MMA Training.

Well the training is very different from what I was doing at the other camp. Instead of just turning up and hitting pads, here I'm actually being taught how to punch properly, combinations, and footwork. I learnt more in the first two days than I did in two weeks at the other place.

It's really nice to feel yourself progress in something that you enjoy. I've hit pads before but now I've been shown how to do it properly, a whole new world has opened up. There is a difference I never would have imagined between hitting something how you have hit all your life, and hitting something after a couple of hours instruction on how to hit effectively.

Then there are the kicks. Although I still have the nasty habit of kicking with my feet instead of my shins, these are coming along. At the moment they are very wobbly, with an almost complete lack of balance after the kick, but hey, I've got time to practice!

The best thing so far though has to be the knees and elbows. Hitting a bag with your elbow is something everyone should try now and again. It makes a really satisfying Thud! Hitting a bag with your knees just makes you glad that nobody has kneed you in the stomach. It just Has to hurt.

Then there is the ground work. Rolling around topless on the floor with another guy, covered in sweat, grunting and working for position is not a description I ever thought I would use to describe something I enjoy. It may be the heat, it may be the bottled water, I don't know. All I do know is that it's great. More tiring than it looks by far. A couple of minutes ground work is as tiring as two or three rounds of bag work. It drains every muscle you own and some that just moved in for the sole purpose of aching after ground work. You are meant to remain relaxed during grappling. I'm sure this will come eventually. At the moment, remaining relaxed while someone is digging their elbow into your chest and leaning their weight on it, choking you with their forearm and manipulating you into an elbow lock. . . is a little hard to do!

Fighters Block.

I finding it a bit tough at the mo to find time to write. My days have become fully concentrated on training and eating. I just cant seem to get enough food inside me to satisfy my body. Then when I'm not training or eating, I'm sleeping.

It's a simple life for sure, but it leaves me precious little time to sit back and reflect. I haven't even touched my guitar. I need to sort something out to give myself some spare time in the day.

I'll see what I can muster up.

Bring it to me.

My bike. MY bike. A bike that from this moment, shall be called 'mine'. I have a bike. An awesome bike. Not a death scooter, no longer do I need to ride the yellow scooter of 'soon to be passed away'. No, for now I can ride my Honda Phantom. Hondas little answer to the Harley. It's an easy rider, it's easy, and it's mine.

Sure, I've had to learn how to ride a manual, but hey, this will just save me hundreds of pounds when I get back home and go for my license.

Never in a million years would I be able to ride a bike like this back home. Not only would the insurance cripple me, but not having a bike license would be a bit of a stumbling block too. But here. . . they don't care. Do you have a driving license, excellent, move on.

My bike even has panniers! I was worried that losing the basket from the scooter might make the big bike a bit inconvenient, but noooooo. Panniers cool, basket not.

My bike rocks. No fuel gauge, but it rocks none the less.

Run Forrest Run.

That's what I'm doing every morning. 7 every morning. I'm running 6k every morning at 7. When I can do this without wanting to pass out, I get to run further. At 7 in the morning.

There is something to be said for laziness.

Are you asking, cause I'm Jammin'

While I was begging to move camps, I got invited to a barbeque they were holding that night. Seeing as my nights have mostly consisted of watching HBO and CNN, this seemed to me like a mighty fine offer indeed.

I turned up, and had the night of my life. There was food, there was drink, and there was fantastic company. I had shots of tequila from a bottle worth ?50, oh yeah, gooooood tequila. I had sangria, I had beer, I had chicken; pork; and bread. Once the merriment was in full swing we took a trip into town to a place called Jammin'.

What a club.

I didn't realise this but over here in some of the bars, you buy a bottle of spirit, and the barkeepers make sure that you always have a drink on you. If they see you with an empty glass, they fill it up for you straight away. If they see you with a half empty glass, they fill it up for you straight away. If your ice is melted, they add more ice, if the drink looks too strong, they add more coke. No matter where you go in the club, they make sure you have a full glass.

Only, at the time, I didn't know this.

I was drinking away quite happily. And yes, by this time I was most definitely well oiled! I would have drink, go and look at the band come back and POW, my drink is full. I'd be a bit confused, sit down, have a drink, go to the loo, get back and POW, full drink. I'd have a bit of the drink, dance for a bit, POW, full glass on my return.

I did not have a high or mighty clue what was going on. All I knew was that I seemed to permanently have a perfect drink. Oh yeah, this was awesome. Can you imagine the scene, I've already had a bit to drink, and now every time my eyes leave my glass, it suddenly is full again. I mean, this is a drunk mans dream. It was costing me Nothing. I never had to go to the bar, I'd paid nothing up front, I just had a never ending drink!

I got really into the swing of things and started loudly singing along with the Thai rock band. They did "I love rock and roll". I sang this song with all the gusto I could. . . to every track they did. . . . all night. I didn't know anything else and I was so happy that they played something I knew I figured the only polite thing to do would be to pay homage to it. . . . all night. . . . repeatedly! Looking back the only conclusion I can come to, is that I rocked!!!

The final icing on the straw that broke the donkeys back.

I'm sitting in my room, minding my own business, waiting until the day comes that I can move into the MMA camp. Suddenly, a knock at my door.

I open it to find the main trainer tell, nay order, me back into the ant and wasp infected hole of darkness and misery. When I ask him why I have to move he tells me that someone is moving into my bungalow. But, I wonder, why don't they put the new kid in the shitty accommodation, they are all the same price anyway.

So, now the decision to move is even more clearly the right one. With little to no regard for the well being of their fare paying customers, I'm off. I went to the new camp and basically begged to move in as soon as they could get a room ready for me. Tomorrow I was told, I only have to endure one more day of rubbish, before things start looking up.

Should never fight, but if have to . . . win.

Mr Miagi and his words of wisdom always seem to ring true. No matter the circumstances.

Well after all the hype that I put into this trip, it seems I've failed.

It is no secret that I said I would be here for 6 months doing Thai Boxing. Many people wondered if I would be able to hack it or not. They doubted that I would be able to last for that long. Some thought it was a flight of fancy and another one of my crackpot ideas that would never take off.

Well those people were right. I've been here about three weeks now and the idealistic holiday that I had in mind when I planned this trip has yet to come true. There have been moments of fun, but on the whole these first three weeks have been a let down. From the first day when the camp tried to rip me off, it has been a trip of broken dreams and disappointment.

All the parts that I thought would help to make my trip memorable and exciting have turned around and become the main focus of my frustration and anguish. What I am experiencing now is a million miles away from what I thought I would when I played this holiday over time after time in my head before I left.

And so it brings me to this. To all the doubters, you were right. I failed. I'm moving out of the camp. I know there are some of you out there thinking that I didn't give it a fair go and that I should stick it out, I've wondered about that myself over these past few days. I've tried to convince myself to stick it out and see if it gets any better, but I just don't have a good feeling about this place anymore. First impressions last, they are hard to break. It's not one big thing that's getting to me, it's lots of little things. These things build and I'm now in a position where I don't feel like this is where I should be spending my money and more importantly, my time and energy.

So I'm off. My big Muay Thai adventure comes to a bitter end.

I failed.







But . . .


And come on people, you knew there had to be one.



But . . . . I do have a new plan.

You see, I failed at my Muay Thai adventure. There will be mockery, people will take the piss out of my about this for years, and they have every right to. I suppose all I can say about it is; at least I tried.

So where am I off to I hear you ask. Have to I decided to see sense and go and get myself a bungalow next to the beach, pick up a Thai girlfriend and spend all my money on drink? Have I decided to travel round and see if I can 'find myself' after this fiasco? Have I decided to go to New Zealand snowboarding with Dave?

Well no, although I did think about the snowboarding thing long and hard. Instead I have decided to pick myself up, brush myself off and move on.

And so move on I have. To another camp. Only this time I'm not just doing Muay Thai. The main focus of my new camp will be MMA. That's Mixed Martial Arts. You know, the Octagon and all that. Cage fighting.

Yes, you heard me right.

Cage fighting.

(sorry mum!!)

If you've ever watched the Ultimate Fighting Championship you know what I'm on about.


I found a guy who's opening a camp, which along side Muay Thai also teaches MMA, which heavily incorporates Vale Tudo, a form of Brazilian Ju Jitsu that I so fleetingly did at university and absolutely loved.

So it's out of the frying pan and into the fire. I thought I'd thrown myself in as deep as I could when I joined a Muay Thai camp, it would now seem I have further to fall before I can start digging myself out again.

Yes, I failed at my original plan. Good. Otherwise I would have never had this new opportunity open up to me. I'm a failure it's true, but I'm that kind of happy failure that finds himself falling even deeper and is just happy for the breeze.

I was over at the new camp today looking at the accommodation. The camp is still being built so until my bungalow is finished I'm going to be staying in one room and using the separate shared toilet block. There was a snake in there today, a poisonous one. I've never seen a poisonous snake 'live' before, now I've got one as a kind of uncomfortable pet!


But hey, as the tag line says . . . "This is what I do."

Who needs enemies.

When your friends complain that because of your tropical dysentery, you have nothing interesting to say.

I was at the internet cafe? checking my website to read that I need to "get out and do something". I had to take Imodium to get to the caf?e to read that people are unhappy that I'm ill. While I've been here I have been beaten repeatedly, bruised myself more than ever before, probably broken a bone in my foot, been attacked by insects and suffered a bout of the shits that will not ease. . . . but that, really hurt!!

I then proceeded to the bagel place to get myself some sesame seed, onion and garlic bagels for lunch. Yes, this is the same bagel place that poisoned me in the first place, their burritos bad, their bagels good!! While these were being wrapped for me the heavens opened. Yet another tremendous downpour had started. Hoping it would stop before my bagels were ready I sat in hope.

No such luck. I looked outside at the rain, I looked inside at the bagel counter, the rain, the bagel counter, the rain. . . I sat down to a bacon + sausage omelette, with coffee, orange juice and a bagel. Two quid. Bargain.

After breakfast it was still raining so I ever so slowly dragged out drinking my coffee while waiting for the storm to subside.


After reading the entirety of a magazine, the storm finally gave way and I left. Walking back to my bike I saw that where I had parked it in a convenient spot by the side of the road, it was now parked in a massive puddle stretching right across the street. While still approaching my bike a car went down the street and sent a wave of water right over my bike. Dirty, muddy water.

My bike was such a mess. For the past 30 minutes every car and truck that went passed had sprayed crap all over it. Poor thing.

I realised that I had to get on my bike, get it started and get the hell out of there before a car went passed or it was going to be one of the most unfortunate mornings on record.

I waited for a gap, quickly put my sodden and dirty helmet on. Jumped on my bike, put the keys in, hit the ignition, the bike started. . . no, its cut out, hit the ignition. . . crap, come on, ignition . . . For The Love Of God. . . ignition then gas. . . come on baby. . a car. .. CRAP. . . Frickin; Start Damnit!!!. . . I've got it. . . GO GO GO.

Just in time to only get a wave of water over my leg. Ha, you may be thinking, an easy escape, but not really. In my haste to get away I didn't really think back to all those times I arrived home from mountain biking to find a well defined channel of dirt right down the centre of my back. So as I pulled away with all the haste I could muster to stop getting sprayed with water. . . . oh yeah. . . I sprayed myself with water all down my back.

Clever wardy, reeeeealy clever.

Tonight in the bathroom.

My inner monologue.

Dum dee dum. Dum de dum. Mike Laaaawrey, Mike Lawrey! Dum de dum. Dum de dum. Wonder what happened to Nelly Furtado??. Dum de dum. I wish I actually had magical powers?? Dum de dum. . . freak, look at that!! A massive gecko on the outside of the window. That is soooooo coool, oh man I wish I had my camera on me, that's frickin massive I cant believ. . . oh bugger it's just a soap smear. . . dum de dum. Dum de dum. I'm hungry.

It's those little moments of excitement that are brightening my days of dysentery.

Seriously though, it did look like the belly of a gecko.

Seriously.

The most effective repellent yet.

Today I bought myself some new insect repellent. The one I brought with me is all out. I bought the biggest bottle I could find of a Thai brand, my purchase was based solely on the graphics on the front.
The repellent inside the spray is highly effective. It repels insects away from me. It repels people away from me. It repels my eyes as far back into their sockets as possible.
This stuff frickin' stinks. I thought I had experienced stink due to my Bad Burrito Belly, but no. This is concentrated, bottled stink.

Yet nightly I rub this lotion all over myself. It's either that of wake up in the morning looking like I've just auditioned for the 'before' half of an acne cream advert.

I'm staying on a beautiful island, there are golden beaches only minutes away from my bungalow, and I've spent the past 5 days, stuck inside, watching CNN, with the shits, rubbing stink lotion all over myself, having to take Imodium to go out and buy more medicine, and the only saving grace I have is that at least there are no wasps in this bungalow. . . . only THERE ARE!!!!!

I'm having a good time, I'm having a good time, I'm having a good t. . . .

If you were thinking,

That you could get your earphones soaking wet while running one morning and then expect them to operate normally. You would be wrong.

The Burrito Still Lingers.

I'm ill. Have been for way too long. And the maid service seems to have forgotten about me. My stomach is more jumpy than the first 20 minutes of Saving Private Ryan; my digestive tract less reliable than sealing a deal with Jeramy Beadle by shaking his 'bad' hand; and the drugs I am taking are less help than putting "Tested experimental mind altering drugs" on your CV.


Oh hang on . . . .



Because of this enforced proximity to sanitary features I have to endure, I've been spending a lot of the days watching telly. I tried to read but it gave me a headache and as we all know, you don't need to use your brain to watch telly.

So I've started getting into Alias. (jealous lads, fnar fnar!!) To start with I had no idea what was going on.

Why is she working for two different groups, why is she repeatedly meeting that guy in a warehouse, is she on the same side as her dad, why are they badmouthing Sloane when they work for him, who is good, who is bad, when is the next costume change???

Finally I managed to work it out, (although Sark still eludes me, maybe I need to watch more) and I must say, I try to watch it every day now. But the place that it falls down for me is the computers. But not just this show, any show that has people use computers and I find myself wanting to scream. CSI is another prime example. When people on television use computers they don't use them properly. Sure, they may look like they can do all sorts of fancy stuff . . .

- I want you to enhance this low resolution, grainy, black and white image of a cat, into a photo realistic 3D model of the crime scene, and I want all the culprits identified.
- Sir, that's gonna take some time.
- You have 2 hours.

. . . but they don't use the tools that they have effectively.

Take today's Alias for example. They were all sat around a computer waiting for an e-mail. High drama I know! When the e-mail finally came through the main character went to open it. Lets see the subtle differences between a highly trained CIA double agent, and me, opening an e-mail.

Highly trained CIA double agent.
(both hands move swiftly to keyboard.)
Tap tap tap. Tappity tap. Tap tap tappo. Tap tap tappity tap tap tappity. . . . . Tap.
I've got it.

Me.
(one hand moves to mouse, leaving one hand free to drink coffee and/or use prototype laser weapons)
Click.
I've got it.

Now, can you spot anything here. Don't feel too bad if you cant, it's only subtle.

I know they are most likely using more sophisticated computers and software than I am. They are trying to catch criminals and save the world . . .

- I need you to use our database to cross reference anybody in NewYork who as a child was ever called 'Kiddo or Junior', with airline tickets to American states whose total highway lengths in millimetres is perfectly divisible by 17. Then match these results to the colour Ochre and the flavour of Hubba Bubba.
- Sir, that's gonna take some time.
- You have 2 hours.

. . . but I still think that a mouse would make their lives so much easier.

You could also build useful crime fighting tools into the mice to help save time. A Magic 8 Ball would be a prime example of this.

- In the killing spree now knows as; Ebony and Irony, did Sammy Smith, aka Makeup, the half caste African American who disguised himself as a white man, disguised as a Minstrel, go on a murderous rampage against the black community that adopted him to prove to a white supremacist gang that he was in fact half the man they were.
- Concentrate and ask again.

I need to get a job fighting crime. What with my ideas and other peoples intelligence, logic, aptitude, reasoning, judgement, talent, skill, ability, fearlessness and weapons training, I think I could be a valuable part of the team.

Things I love about Thai television.

Mostly, just that it is sooooo bad. But because it is so painfully bad, you have to keep on watching. For example, a new drama coming up is called "Dragon Balls". The line that goes with the trailer is "The mythical story of the legendary 12 Dragon Balls, intertwined with a love story between a human and a demon." I mean, come on, who wouldn't want to watch that.
And I must admit. "Dragon Balls" is kinda funny. Tee Hee!

There is also an advert for a classy Thai magazine. One of the features they are advertising this month is "12 things you never knew were sexy." Wow, what an article. I'd like to know what they are. I'm hoping it would be something like this.

3 - Make all the answers to your lovers questions sound sarcastic. Of course you really want to go out for dinner, you can't think of anything you'd rather do. The longer you do this for, the sexier it becomes. Add excitement to the bedroom with you playful ways.

2 - Sit your partner down and reveal to them a child they never knew you had. Then reveal you are already married. Then tell them you have a fatal illness that can be sexually transmitted. Tell them not to worry, let the situation brew for a few hours and then let them know it's all just a big joke and really everything is fine. After feeling like their world has fallen apart, the realisation that everything is ok will make them appreciate you all that much more. Add excitement to the bedroom with a roller coaster of emotion.

1 - Brutally murder your ex-lovers and cover yourself in their mixed and congealed inners. While dripping entrails, undertake a seductive dance reminiscent of the Far East and loudly scream your favourite Norwegian Death Metal track. For that extra special touch, do this while suspended from the ceiling with hooks pierced into your back, letting the guts of your previous s romances fall onto the marital bed. Add excitement to the bedroom by proving to your partner you are willing to slay all those that have gone before to reinforce their status as 'the only one'. Also, who doesn't like someone that can sing and dance!

But by far my most favourite thing on Thai television is an advert for bread. I wish so bad I could remember what it's called. I've been singing this all day and now I sit down to type this and the name has gone from my head. Anyway, lets call it Andrews, it's something like that, I'll update when I know it for sure.
The little ditty at the end of this advert, for Bread remember, is "Andrews, so good you can eat it on its own." This is sung by children and is just the most brilliant thing I have heard!

Bread, so super tasty good, you can eat it on its own. Who wouldn't want that? I can imagine the dinnertime conversations in households all over the east.

What's for dinner mum?
A slice of bread.
WINNER!!!!

It's raining it's pouring.

Yet it's still freaking boiling.

This morning I went out for my semi-daily run in a fantastically heavy rainstorm. It was lovely, I didn't get too hot and there is a freedom that you get from running in rain that you don't find in normal running.

Unfortunately the night before I put some fast punk and metal tracks on my mp3 player to run to. Biiiiig mistake. My pacing went right out the window. I'm charging through the rain, guitars screaming in my ears, machine gun drumming forcing me forward and all I can think is "run faster, run harder, run faster, run harder". It was such a rush. I was quite literally, to quote Sensei Mick; 'Dizzy With Power And Rage!'

But now I'm back home. My thighs are angry. Very angry.

I'm going to pay for this one.


***Update - woke up next morning and my body held a meeting while I was asleep. It would seem my thighs talked to my shins, and now they are angry at me too. My thighs and shins tried talking to my suspect broken/bruised foot but communications broke down. My left foot has now declared itself an independant state and is hell bent on torturing me. It's requests: deep heat and rest .***

American Television.

I've can only get American television over here.

I've been reading a lot.

Larry King. The diluted version of all and any talk show hosts. Asking petty questions with his soft, almost timid probing, all in the quest of revealing nothing profound about the person he is interviewing. He asked Lisa Marie Presley "Do you think your dad changed music?"

Ohhhhh, tough one. Give me a moment on the internet to do some research before I have to get back to you on that.

Now he's interviewing Dr Phil. Whom I've never heard of before but I already get the idea this guy holds himself so high and mighty that mere mortals like you and me could only face his scorn. They have shown a couple of clips of Dr Phil getting angry at people on his show. Telling them how to live their lives, but not in the way that you feel he wants to help these people. In the way that he takes great pleasure pointing out where others have gone wrong.

The only quality thing I have seen was on CNN. No, it was not CNN. Watching CNN is like watching an amateur dramatics society trying to impress the bosses to get their own show. Only this is aired 24 painful hours a day and pretends to communicate 'facts' to the audience.
The best thing on CNN is The Daily Show. I think this is the same show Chris keeps harking on about. It's brilliant. After the British election they did a special, and while pretending to take the piss out of the British, did a brilliant job of poking fun at themselves. It was genius.

Larry King just asked, "We should never judge a trial before it's over, but what is your opinion of Michael Jackson. . . as a person?" Ohh Larry. See how you tried to weave that question to insinuate you didn't want to Jackson bash, and yet still, it's so transparent. This guy is meant to be a professional They are now discussing sexual predators, "man-childs" and inappropriate behaviour. But heaven forbid that they have just judged Michael Jackson.

Luckily for me however, yesterday I saw a great great film I don't know what it was called because I didn't catch the beginning. It was about Folk Singers and followed three bands in particular. It was like Spinal Tap for the Folk scene and was very quietly hilarious. Whoever wrote the script had a subtle eye and managed to weave jokes out of thin air while keeping it's documentary fa?cade in perfect order.

It's been a mixed bag on telly this week. It's just a shame that the entertainment shows are so good, and the factual and news shows are so bad.

Contrary to popular belief . . .

. . I am not a Doctor.

But I'm pretty sure that I've broken a bone in my foot.

When childhood goes awry.

I went out tonight (heavily dosed up on Immodium) to watch some Thai Boxing. I travelled in the back of a pick up truck with three others to a stadium in the town centre. Once there we took our seats and the first fighters came out.

Well I say fighters, what I really mean, is children. Literally, 5 or 6 year old kids. Their heads barely came to the third rope. These kids, got in the ring, and with no more protection than the adults, proceeded to punch, kick and knee seven bells out of each other. The sight, was amazing. Not amazing in the sense of "oh wow, this is great" but in the actual sense of being . . . amazed. I never thought I would witness children not much older than my nephews displaying such aggression.

The completely crazy thing is though, that after the fight, the kids that had moments earlier trying to knock each other out, were playing together by the side of the ring as if nothing had happened. They were completely unfazed by the situation. It was just something they do. I went to Cubs and learnt how to tie knots and light fires, these kids learn how to take a knee to the stomach and knock people out.

Soon though the older kids came out. And this is where the night got interactive. There were stacks of Thai guys betting, and who am I to not join in. I backed one kid called Superboy. How can you not put a bet on a fighter called that?

He got knocked out.

Then the next fight I just picked the one that looked meanest and put a bet on him.

He got knocked out.

The only two KO's of the evening and I backed them both.
Something tells me I'm not ready for packing in my day job and gambling on fights full time.

Blame it on the Burrito.

All the time I've been here I've been eating Thai food. My guts have been fine. Sure, they took a bit of adjusting, but we had no major dramas. This morning I had to park a bit further down the road than usual to get to the internet caf?e. I got off my bike and noticed a Bagel place. Thinking of my good Jewish friend I went inside to see what delights they had on offer.

As well as the usual selection of bagels and fillings they also did burritos. Completely forgetting my short lived allegiance to the Jewish way I went ahead and ordered a creamy garlic chicken burrito. The only western food that I've bought out while I've been here. The burrito was nice, the chicken creamy. But now it would seem that it wasn't so much creamy from the delicious garlic sauce, as from being undercooked.

Harking back to the glory days of letting a certain housemate cook for me (Yes, Butcher, I'm talking about you) I am now struck down with a glorious bout of gut rot.

I can't believe I've travelled all this way, paid literally pence to eat at the side of the road time after time, and an over priced burrito is what finally gets me.

Thailand, I'm sorry, I promise to only eat your native food, just please let me get better!

A change of direction.

Something has cropped up. It isn't bad but it could be a very big change of direction for my trip. I'm currently trying to find out more. I don't want to commit myself to it only to back out later. It's all very exciting, I'm just hoping that my enthusiasm will be grounded in something solid.

When I know more, I'll let you know. At the moment I'm going to find out as much as I can so I can make a structured decision.

Here's hoping.

The Doctor Is In.

Well the time finally came to get rid of my hair. I went out looking for someone I trusted enough to get rid of it for me, but then ended up in some back street barbers instead.

This barbers was a three fold affair. On the one hand the whole front of the shop opened onto the street giving it a very 'cosmo' look; secondly, it was a normal barbers inside; thirdly, it was also the owners lounge and his family were sat on sofas at the back of the shop watching telly.

However, the best thing about this guy was his dress sense. He looked like a doctor. He had the blue overalls, the latex gloves and most importantly; the mask! It was ace. A real life make believe doctor cut my hair in the back of beyond while his family watched bad Asian drama in the background. Genius.

I told the guy I wanted all my hair off and he got to work. Watching my locks fall away after all the time and effort which went into them was a bit disappointing but my new streamlined look is slowly growing on me (da dum!).

The Appeal.

Much like Blue Peter, I am starting an appeal. In this appeal you will not save the lives of thousands, but the sanity of one. You will not help feed millions, build a school, save a donkey (well nearly) or help disadvantaged children pet dangerous animals. All you will do, is brighten my day.

The appeal even has a catchy name. It's call the Paint Purchase Post-er Appeal. The rules are simple and there may even be a winner (if I can find a piece of island tat that I can call a prize that is). All you have to do is Paint or Purchase a poster, and then Post it out to me. It can be of whatever you want, although if you send me a life-sized picture of Jordan or Caprice that chances of it going on my wall are basically nil.

You see, I have to stay in my dark infested bungalow. All the others are full for months. So what I'm going to do is spruce this place up a bit. I've got my hammock on my veranda now, which is nice, but the insides still need some work. I'll take before and after pictures so you can see what I've done to the place, but your help would be greatly appreciated.

I've been looking for a poster place but all I can find are art galleries selling canvases. Now, these things are crazily impressive. The painters are inside the gallery painting away and all their work is displayed around them. Amazing. You can also commission a piece if you want and choose which artist you want to do it. I was thinking about buying a really cheap guitar and getting them to spruce it up for me but the price is kind of putting me off. I think I'll have to have a word with the owner - I have his card - and see if I can get myself a discount.

So there is your challenge. Either produce something arty with you own fair hands or head off to Athena and try to find something classy. Then using whatever means possible get it to my parents and they will post it out to me in a big bundle of fun. Alternatively, mail me and I'll let you know my address so you can send it straight out.

Now I know this is going to take time out of you day and money out of your pocket but you really have no idea how chuffed I would be to get stuff from you. Anything you think would look cool on my walls will be accepted with great enthusiasm.

You have your challenge people, go and make yourselves proud!


*** Update - Don't bother. Hopefully I'll be leaving here within the week. Consider yourselves freed from the shackles of creativity. ***