Kids get older. Best friends propose. Families fight. Aunties behave appallingly. Opportunities to unite and grow are quashed by a familiar unwillingness to try. Some things missed in nine months away from home. Continue reading →
“They are a right pair of 80’s spunks, aren’t they.’ Collette Jane Davis Aged 37 years and 1 day Ubud
We are watching action, comedy, crime-bonanza, ‘Tango and Cash’. It stars the incredibly watchable, Sylvester ‘Rocky-is-a-pussy’ Stallone and the cheeky mulleteer, Kurt Russell. What have I been doing all my life? How have I never seen this? The soundtrack is astounding. And, Sly and Kurt are not the only eye-candy either: Teri Hatcher is an 80’s, lycra, mega-hottie. Late-80’s boobs are the best. In support of this claim I also cite Patrick Swayze’s sexual pinnacle, Roadhouse, another boob-laden, cinematic masterpiece released the same year. Continue reading →
“If I didn’t know otherwise, I would think you two were on your honeymoon. Other people look out of the window or at their phones, but you two are so interested in each other.” BEAUTIFUL WAITRESS, ORCHID CLUB LOUNGE, PARK ROYAL ON PICKERING, SINGAPORE. Continue reading →
Our bedroom is in the attic of a handmade house. All wood with a slate roof, there’s nothing we are wanting for. A comfortable mattress on the floor, some make-do pots and pans in the kitchen, a place to meditate and practice asana. Beyond the rough hewn door is a balcony that frames the most extraordinary view. Bougainvillae creeps around the struts and beyond are the steep sloping terraces of Jibhi. Green upon green, the pines rise up to the peaks, and dotted irregularly are the pink and green homes that remind us we are still in India.
From the counter at the front of his hardware shop, Sudhir’s eyes vacantly stare through the passing traffic. A look we have seen so often here. A man in the abyss. Our arrival nudges him to consciousness. He rubs his eyes and recognises us from two days ago.
“It’s crazy out there.” I blurt as we stumble in. Our nervous systems are in tatters after the chaotic journey. We sit opposite Sudhir at the counter. He seems resigned and he shakes his head. There is a sadness with him. A sense of futility. My comment seems to have prompted something.
“It is crazy.” He replies in time. He inhales slowly, still climbing from his brain-death. But he fixes to talk. Collette and I both sense we are about to get more than we came in for. We lean in to listen as he talks: Continue reading →
“Your forehead smells like a lost corridor, as you move towards the staff quarters of a Balearic hotel”. Pete.
Born on the day of verbal acuity, Pete has always had a way with words. He manages to articulate and translate the world in the most remarkable ways. Sights, smells and experiences are all wrapped up in alarming, acrid metaphors. Vivid, corporeal and often crude, he speaks the world alive in ways that often leave me awestruck. And often lost for words. Which is ironic because my writing business is called Found for Words.
Double Bed Cabin Near The Back
Overnight Bus Ride
Mumbai to Jodphur
Somewhere in Space
9th April 2017
Dearest and Favourite Aunty Margaret,
When we were called at 9:50am this morning to be advised that this bus was now leaving at 10:25am as opposed to its scheduled departure time of 11:30, we had to get our Mumbai skates on. Typically Indian that. We feel very lucky to have made it on board.
Bandra was our date night location for our final night in Mumbai. The preferred, ‘happening hotspot’ for the stars of Bollywood, we were hungry for some Bollywood bling. It turns out it’s mostly a place where Indians with privilege take the opportunity to treat Indians in service like dog shit; valet parking, ‘Bring my chicken over here,” “Clean my table.” “Dust my ego.” This kind of social-hierarchy bollocks. And it plays out constantly here. In traffic jams, in bars, buying vegetables, arranging transport. When I get them to clean my bum hole etc. Continue reading →