Routine

Routine - the blogger's enemy. I go the same way to work every day, at the same time, on the same train. I spend weekends sleeping, cooking, eating and hiding from the heat. I'll post some stuff based on minutiae, but as Paul has kindly pointed out, pink slippers don't push the hit-count up. It's a creeping malaise which I must fight - surely this is South-East Asia, a place so different to my home with respect to culture, climate and society that it should be impossible to run out of observations in a lifetime.

While we're on minutiae, I got a motorcycle taxi yesterday (as usual) but had trouble fitting on the seat due to the immensity of the owner. I haven't had my legs that far apart since (steady!) yoga classes. As mentioned ad infinitum elsewhere, I don't see many fat guys in Bangkok. Maybe he moonlights as a pizza delivery man, in which case I wonder if any actually get delivered.

While we're on Pizza, I had one (a pizza) in New Mills that was so awful I nearly cried. It was a thin crust jobby, but there must have been two kilos of cheese on there. Ok maybe I've been eating light food in Bkk for too long, but honestly I struggled to stand up after eating (most of) this, and not just because I was obliged to wash it down with about four litres of chardy. That wasn't helped by the life-threatening amount of salt, mostly from the trawler-full of anchovies they kindley shovelled into it. Truly disgusting, and not like me to leave food. Finished the wine though.

While we're on leaving, I came back to a living plant, thank goodness and thanks for asking. This apartment must be quite tropical when nobody's here to wind up the AC, so bit of a result there.

While we're on heat, my jet lag (get it?) has not left me enough to allow gym sessions so the old love-handles are thriving. Photos, anyone? Don't all rush to the front now. At least my calorific intake has subsided to normal levels since leaving the land of (full cream) milk and money. Back to the gym from Sunday onwards is the plan. Hold me to it.

A couple of people have asked to be contributors to the blog, and I'm considering it, but so far I've only allowed Lyn and Lucy, as they can and do provide much-needed news from New Mills. Not that news from elsewhere is unwelcome of course, but it doesn't touch my ohmsickness.

While we're on sickness, I'll be at sea in a couple of weeks for my first rig trip. Better stock up on pulp fiction and music. I wonder if I'll have web access from there. If not there will be a gap in service, sorry regulars.

In other news, I've been and gone and bought season 2 of Battlestar Galactica, which coincidentally enough follows on from the season I watched on a rig in Scotland last year. A most enjoyable show, and not just because of the gorgeous wimmin innit. Strange how Sci Fi is one of the things which divides us into two camps - those who like it (guys) and those who hate it (gals). Mostly I avoid behaviour which is too obviously laddish, preferring to listen to my feminine side (shut up Stevenson), but in this case I break my own rule. Onset of middle age, maybe (Shut up, Norton).

While we're on shutting up, I'll go now.

Be good.