Time rapidly slipped away; flights – flights that were likely to actually be honoured and didnt necessitate jumping hoops that we werent prepared to jump, at a price that we didnt deem extortionate – were finally sourced and booked, incredibly through a British travel agent who (being a friend of my parents) bent some rules in order to bring their little boy and his girl home.
Thus, on May 15th, after 1204 days on the road, passing through twelve countries on three continents (the last 788 of those days admittedly confined to a magnificent, stasis in Laos) we once again graced the green and pleasant land. Heathrows terminal two was an unmasked chaos (transfer at Singapores Changi had been a serene masked pleasure) and our first saw my (not Alis) interminable corralled queuing at the speedy immigration automatic (along with EU, Canadian, Japanese, Sinaporean, South Korean, Swiss and US citizens, all equally to use the fast track system) thwarted when it failed to recognize my UK passport. I did stamp my feet a little and the officious official merely bade me join the back of the those of dubious origin line to confront
a human agent. This was, mercifully (bizarrely), far shorter and more efficient than what a British citizen is encouraged to endure, but why in our new autonomous, isolationist, rule Britannia, stance do they not favour the return of their own? Surely our stupidity must have some minor benefits?
Our last few months of rural idyll centred around the Pi Mai (New Year) celebrations and dogs. The former cancelled in 2020, whilst last year saw festivities abruptly aborted after only one day as Covid made an untimely (officially recognised) appearance. This year everyone was determined to maximize both partying and profit, with early March witnessing the frenzied construction of wood, bamboo and shops and party gazebos in the prime island and riverside locations weeks before the As per 2021, Somphone was encouraged to build some tribal (Katu) style huts: no greater than more basic affairs, but they are beautiful (equals more desirable) and Poh – once again roped in by the government as organizer/coordinator of Tad Los revelment (only three locations had been permitted to hold
public events) – was offering up loaned wood for our builds as long as we the stock he had sourced from a deconstructed house. Our efforts would enhance the traditional ambiance he was aiming to create.
Thus Somphone and I began with the erection of three gazebos, the first a monstrous sized beast able to seat a dozen or more. Unlike bamboo structures the weight of wood builds requires nails rather than bamboo strip ties and being so friendly we foolishly intended to employ those reclaimed nails from the woods previous usage. On pulling six inch nails (using a steel long arm, dont try to cut corners with a levered claw hammer: I snapped one) from wooden beams we then had the joy of straightening them. Yes, such a second hand nail may appear straight (and strong) until you then attempt to drive it through two braced beams whilst struggling in four feet of water: it buckles, you straighten it once more, and it crumples again There was slow progress.
Meanwhile, M&M were about to head off on a jolly and enquired if we would house/dog sit for the heavily pregnant
Pukey: she would surely pup whilst they were away. And so, one subsequent evening, we were sat in their tranquil, dreamily lit garden amidst the serenading insects, free from Namphun requesting a hot shower in our room, or needing a dress to be stitched or scrounging a share of our evening meal, or materialising to sit, aimlessly, infuriatingly, at our sides cadging cigarettes, when... some drops landed on my head. Sitting under the overhang of the second floor I looked up expecting to see a mighty gecko cocking his leg; but no, just a steady stream of drips appearing from between the planks.
