She who must be obeyed has an extended family that I cannot fathom. I can recognise her parents and siblings, but beyond that there is massive collection of uncles, aunts, granddads and grannies; whose place in the family tree I do not understand. But I find that a smile and a wai keeps me out of trouble.
Last weekend we made a trip to visit a granddad who is a monk, living in a temple near Samut Somewhere. I think he is a proper Granddad because my mother-in-law turned up and claimed he was her father. Mother-in-law’s mother also came along and, such is my general state of confusion regarding my wife’s family, it was only this morning that I realised that grannie and granddad must have been married at some point; which rather explains why he ran away and joined the monk-hood.
After much bowing and chatting and food consumption, it was off to stay the night with another granny whose lineage was obscure, but whose suitability for accommodation was not in any doubt because she owned a resort. She also turned out to be a hell of a cook and we dined very well before retiring to our cabin in the woods. The best feature of the cabin was the toilet/shower which was open to the elements. There is nothing finer than reading the news on your iPad whilst sitting on the toilet and listening to the forest reverberating around you. She who must be obeyed was not so sure, particularly when it got dark, and I was required to stand guard in case a passing moth assaulted her while she was cleaning her teeth.
The worst feature of the cabin was the bed. She who must be obeyed likes a hard bed. Took me a while to get used to the idea; but now I am also of the opinion that a mattress should be just short of being concrete. But the bed in the cabin was like reinforced concrete with extra hard bits and we spent a restless night. It was only around dawn that extreme tiredness forced me into sleep; and I was then immediately woken up by my wife who told me we had to go and see the monk being fed.
WTF?
So I was dragged out of bed and down to the edge of the river where a lone monk could be seen paddling upstream. Apparently he does this at around 0600 every day. If only he could do it at around 0930 I would be much more enthusiastic about watching him.
He moored up next to granny, who loaded up his canoe with food.
Then he paddled off to the next jetty so gather more supplies.
Grannie then spent at least ten minutes in silent prayer by the side of the river.
This quiet time, by the banks of a soft-flowing river, amidst a forest coming to life in the cool morning air; gave me a chance to contemplate my existence and my place in the universe. Of course I wasted this chance and instead thought “I really need a shit and some more sleep”, and I wandered off back to the cabin and had both. Nietzsche would have been proud of me.
Comments 🔗
2010-09-08| Billy saysI presume the reference is to “That which does not kill us makes us stronger”
2010-09-09| Spike saysI also have an affinity for: “Ah, women. They make the highs higher and the lows more frequent.”