The last evening with our guests and, as has been our custom, we head for a farewell meal at Bruno’s, still my favourite restaurant in Pattaya. The standards have slipped a little however as they failed to recognise me by name, something they normally do even though I only go there once or twice a year.
Never mind, the food is as excellent as always, the Australian oysters being particularly plump and delicious; like kissing the sea, as someone more eloquent than I once observed. A fine meal, rounded off as tradition demands by a “special coffee”, prepared at the table with a total non-observance of safety standards and much spontaneous bursting into flames. Wonderful, and Colin insisted on picking up the tab. Ever magnanimous, I let him.
Full of food, wine and assorted liqueurs, I was all set to head home and slump in a chair, but our designated driver (she who must be obeyed) was having none of it, we were going to karaoke.
Naturally, I sulked. My views on karaoke are well known and I had no desire to sit in a stuffy room while someone murdered a country and western song written by someone who should have been murdered for writing it. But we were dragged into the tenpin bowling alley at The Avenue, wherein there were karaoke rooms.
The chairs were comfortable, the place was clean, the drinks were served and, although they had nothing by the Sex Pistols, they did have some music that fell outside the wanky ballad genre. I found myself, microphone in hand, ripping a brilliant rendition of Boulevard of Broken Dreams by Greenday. I could see people in the bowling alley looking into our room to see if that really was Billy Joe Armstrong singing; or as she who must be obeyed put it “they think someone is being tortured in here.”
The next three hours passed in a blur of off-key buffoonery. I did my buggered back no good at all by failing to hit a correct note in a Coldplay song, but making up for it by hopping round the room in what I considered to be a perfect Chris Martin stagecraft impersonation. But the highlight of the evening was the treatment of the Sonny and Cher classic, “I got you babe”. I got in quickly and claimed the Sonny lyrics, leaving Colin to squeak his way through Cher’s bits as best he could. We were brilliant, a view only slightly optimistically coloured following several gin and tonics, a bottle of wine and those flaming special coffees.
And so a slightly late start to the day this morning. To wake ourselves up we dragged the SUP down to the sea and gave Colin the task of mastering it. There is a lot of Colin and he is somewhat top heavy, so his initial attempts had him more lying than standing on the board.
But he persevered, and after several attempts he did manage to stand up and paddle for a few seconds. Unfortunately these moments were not captured for posterity, because I had taken my camera back to the condo and returned ready to get wet. After something more than three months, I finally got to stand up on a board and had a little paddle round the bay. The back did not complain any more than it is already complaining, and I didn’t fall off which means my body has not forgotten how to balance. Felt very good, another small step on the road to recovery.
This afternoon we put Colin and Mary in a car to the airport. It was great to see them and plans are already in place for their visit next year. I might even be tempted back into a karaoke room, as long as I don’t have to be Cher.
Comments 🔗
2009-01-26| Jock saysPhoto of Smithy reminded me on a farewell gesture to a parting friend ‘Whale Meat again’