Living in Brunei, as I did for three years, is a bit of a challenge. Not a lot happens and you have to find ways of amusing yourself or else you would go a little crazy.
During my time there I met a Scotsman by the name of Ian who was a legend for having been continuously employed by the company for fifteen years; at least ten years longer than most people could manage. As part of our sanity-retaining measures, we became involved in running the local computer club and enthusiastically cobbled together a monthly newsletter for the approximately four club members who never really got our perverse sense of humour.
It was only later that I discovered that Ian had a base in Jomtien and whilst he has continued to work in Brunei (now for more than thirty years), he makes the occasional visit to civilisation and we meet for coffee.
He is what you would describe as a character. One of his passions is writing poetry; and it is without exception quite abysmal; although he thinks it is excellent. Here is an example, one of his better offerings:
Rules to Live By
Never eat a plate of food bigger than your head
Never eat a hearty meal when there’s weight to shed
Never scratch a lion’s nose if its not been fed
Never pull a tigers tail if it isn’t dead
To which I would add:
Never write poetry, even if you think you can
You strange deluded Scottish man
Sadly, his team in Brunei includes a number of Filipinos who, anxious to please their boss, constantly reassure him that he is a direct descendant of Rabbie Burns, rather than the bastard offspring of William Topaz McGonagall. Even worse, being Filipinos, they are genetically programmed to be instant musicians, so have taken the random collection of words poems and set them to music. They are every bit as awful as you would expect them to be and I always stuff tissues into my car CD player when meeting Ian to ensure I am not subjected to the latest “hit”.
Ian’s other passion is photography, and here he does a whole lot better. By his own admission he hates buying anything, and so for many years he would walk around snapping stuff armed with an ancient two megapixel point and shoot. I couldn’t tell you the make because the name, and most of the camera, was obscured by tape which was holding the whole contraption together. But he always came up with interesting images. with a slant towards insects and other small beasties.
Eventually, he dusted off his wallet and bought an entry level DSLR and a macro lens, and since then he has been producing images of increasing quality. Today we met for coffee and he showed me his latest prints, including this:
What an awesome shot. Not surprisingly, he had to get pretty close to get this, certainly well within in snake striking distance. “I assume it is non-poisonous?” I enquired naively. “It’s a pit viper, it can kill you”, was the jaunty jock’s reply. I imagined his final poem:
Here’s a wee pit viper
Take a photo of its head
…….
Bugger me it bit me
And soon I will be dead
Anyway, great shot and much respect due; and he had an envelope full of similarly impressive photos.
I imagined Ian trekking for hours through the jungle, dripping with sweat, beset by leaches, in search of his photographic quarry. But in fact he gets them all by standing on the footpath of the company car park. The car park is next to the jungle, and although several hundred other people go to and from their cars every day without noticing as much as a spider; Ian spends his weekends pacing the same path and just looking; and finds these fantastic creatures.
I was so impressed with this particular photo that I rather cheekily asked if I could keep the print. And I have rather cheekily not asked Ian if I can show his photo here. So I am expecting retribution in due course in the form of a hundred verse poem, set to music and sung out of tune by a gang of sycophantic Filipinos. Or perhaps he will take pity on me and just send me a small turd in a cardboard box instead, much preferred.
Comments 🔗
2010-02-12| Qon saysabsolutely breathtaking… thanks for the vision!
2010-02-12| Scubajazz saysIs that an ant on the viper’s head?
2010-02-12| Spike saysYes, it’s an ant; which the snake apparently removed by a quick vibrating movement.
2010-02-12| Billy saysI suspect I am the poorer for not having known him
2010-02-13| Spike saysIndeed you are. Apart from the poetry.
2010-02-13| Billy saysEven the poetry; I love the Great McGonagall, he was kind of a Spike Milligan before his time …
‘Twas about seven o’clock at night, And the wind it blew with all its might, And the rain came pouring down, And the dark clouds seem’d to frown, And the Demon of the air seem’d to say- “I’ll blow down the Bridge of Tay.”
Utter crap, even John Knight couldn’t love it.
2010-02-14| Jock saysany chance of replacing the Ant with a Polo Pony (or 2, 3, …)
2010-02-15| Sid saysI am OK wi snakes as long as they are headin away fae me, i had a “radiated rat snake” in the Bush at the back of the house, aparently “not dangerous to humans but strikes a lot” angry bastard!!! fleggit me! I picked the hoor up wi a rake and coupit it ower the waa! The wife goes mintil!! I am aboot the fourth steppy doon fae shite fan it comes t slithery beesties. RB never seen S een commin!
2010-02-16| Billy saysJock, yae hiv a mate in Sid, yae ken!!