Heaven and Hell worlds

Travel diary 2015

14^th December

I arrived in Bangkok last Wednesday after my stop over flight being unexpectedly upgraded to a Thai airways direct one. I spent a few days getting used to the lovely heat and humidity and holiday pace of life. I met Rosie, an English girl I used to teach with 5 years ago in Krabi. She is now living in Bangkok, working only 3 days a week and earning more than twice what we were earning working full time all those years ago. However, she isn't saving much as she seems to spend her free time meeting up with and having sex with guys that she meets on Tinder – a dating app. Most of these guys are western men because, as she puts it, 'my fanny is really big and stretched now so I need a big penis otherwise I can't feel anything. The best guy was this German boy. He had a huge fat cock and he shoved it right down my throat and my eyes were just streaming. It was amazing. Unfortunately he comes really quick. And the worst were two Italian men I dated. They were a nightmare and tiny penises – who would have thought it?'

    Rosie sighs at the problems of modern dating. 'To be honest, I wouldn't mind dating a few Thai guys – but think I'll have to lose some weight first.'

     Leaving Rosie to sort out her sex life, I fly down to Phuket. It is hot, crowded and frantic but is also clean with perfect beaches. Everywhere I go, tarted up Thai women offer me a massage and fierce dark skinned men offer me a taxi or tuk tuk. I suppose I will have to have one soon. Everywhere are western men from young lads to old wrinkly men living the dream. Cigarettes and beer can be had for less than a pound, women for twenty. The men, young and old, ride about on rented scooters which are also readily available and cheap; semi-naked in just their swimming shorts, their bodies an angry red from too much exposure to the fierce tropical sun.

    Yesterday morning, I awoke early and went to the beach before breakfast. The sun was up but it had not yet attained the characteristic fierce tropical heat and half the beach was still in the shade of the tall palms. I swam out to the limit of the swimming area and then looked around me. It was paradise. The beach was a gentle curve of white sand with swaying palms. The sea was clean and turquoise and just the right temperature. Out at sea was a huge cruise liner, white against the morning sun, its huge windowed side sheer like a cliff. Further in was an antique sailing boat with two masts. Maybe it was a clipper.

    I swam in and decided to go for a run. I ran towards the north end of the beach and then slowed to a walk to admire my surroundings. The beach was even more beautiful here with lush green hills curving off into the distance. A tall, very athletic looking black man ran past me. When he was about 50 yards ahead, he performed a smooth shoulder roll on the sand and then carried on running, seemingly without any check in his forward motion. I have often noticed people doing all kinds of extraordinary things on the beach from extreme yoga poses to backward somersaults.

    I neared the very end of the beach where the white sand gave way to sheer black cliffs. A young woman standing in thigh deep water caught my eye. She was slim and tanned with small breasts and black hair pulled back in a smooth ponytail. She was wearing a black bikini, the bottom half of which was a thong. I could help noticing how extraordinarily beautiful her bottom was.

    'She looks more goddess than human, like a nymph,' I mused to myself as I walked past trying hard not to stare and appear like a pervy satyr. I reached the end of the beach and turned back. As I walked along the waters end, the nymph with the beautiful bottom came out of the water accompanied by another nymph equally beautiful, also dark haired, also in black bikini thong, also heavenly bottomed. They could have been twins, in fact the only difference between the two was that the second nymph had bigger breasts. They passed very close, within touching distance of me.

    I walked on, intensely conscious of the heaven world that I was in, complete with bright sunshine and heavenly nymphs. As a child, this was always how I had imagined heaven must look like... although I possibly hadn't included the nymphs. For me, heaven had always been a beach. Ahead, the tall black man was doing extraordinary things on the sand. He had fallen onto his hands as if he was going to do push ups but instead was doing vertical jumps into the air like a frog off his hands and toes. There was a boat anchor with its rope stretching a foot off the sand down to to a long tailed boat and the black man was doing his incredible frog jumps back and forth over the rope.

    This was no ordinary mortal, I realised. This was some lusty young god showing off his physical prowess. The heaven world was complete; the nymphs, the young god and the thoughtful satyr walking through. A middle aged man came running towards me from the opposite direction, his flabby chest bouncing painfully up and down to his ungainly movements, his face twisted in physical and mental agony. Here was a being from the Underworld and I doubt he even noticed the heavenly inhabitants of this place anymore than they noticed him.

    Back at my apartment, I received a message from Rosie via Line messenger. She was down in Krabi for a short break and was just about to visit her ex boyfriend who was now in jail. I wondered what she would make of Thai jails. I had once taught some Thai lawyers in Bangkok several years ago and they had painted a grim picture of what jails were like over here.

    '50 or 60 men crowded into a room no bigger than my office,' said my student Chang. 'No fan or air conditioning. Not enough room for everyone to lie down on the floor to sleep. Have to take it in turns to sleep or sleep standing up. One bucket to shit or piss in, emptied once a day. No showers or place to wash.'

    What would Rosie, a middle class girl from sheltered England, make of this hell hole? Would she still cherish romantic feelings for her ex lover, the violent petty criminal who had rebelled against his rural Muslim upbringing to spend his days and nights drinking, gambling and smoking the illegal yar baa?

    At the end of the day I had my answer in the ecstatic message from Rosie. 'Omg! I love Thailand! I'm sat eating strawberries with the prison guards. I'm feeling really horny. So many dark bad boys with their shaven heads and prison uniforms! Why am I such a freak? I've got a crazy plan to shag the guards and then sneak my bf out of prison. They say I must pay 3 million baht to get him out of jail. God, I'm so wet!'

    Unlike the simpler Christian concept of heaven above us and hell below, Buddhists talk about several different worlds from the lowest hell worlds to the highest heaven. All these various worlds or perhaps levels of experience exist simultaneously so it is perhaps more like 3 people sitting in the same room, each with a TV tuned to a different channel. This day I had seen heaven worlds with nymphs and young gods, I had seen (via my lawyers) hell worlds and now here was my friend Rosie, a bit like in an inverted version of the Bob Dylan song 'Knock, knock, knocking on Hell's door'.

Doing the CELTA

Learning on the job was not without its drawbacks.  By the time I got around to doing my CELTA (the University of Cambridge accredited Certificate of English Language Training for Adults) 7 years later, I had picked up all sorts of bad habits which meant I only got a pass grade instead of the A grade that in my cockiness I had been expecting.  

The CELTA was a good move however and it meant I got straight into a reputable British Council accredited school and thus had more work, earned more money per hour and finally could call myself a relatively serious teacher.  If anyone out there is reading this with the view to becoming a ESL teacher then I really would recommend that they go straight off and do their CELTA.  It's the best investment ever - especially the intensive four week course.  It typically costs about £1,000 and as soon as you qualify you can get your money back in a months teaching.

Don't do what I did which was to faff around doing an online TEFL because it was easier and cheaper.  Not only will you waste time but also you will probably pick up bad habits which are very difficult to get rid off when you do your observed teaching practice on the CELTA.  The teachers who got the highest grades in my CELTA course were the ones who had never taught before.  The people who were already teachers struggled and one poor guy who was head teacher in a Korean school failed to get a Pass grade.

The learning begins

Playing the guitar and discussing rock music with my students was fun but one day Marie, a rather serious minded 15 year old, dropped a bombshell.

'Could we study something about modals tomorrow please?' she asked.

'Modals?? You mean models? Supermodels? Fashion?'

I had been a bit concerned about Marie.  She hadn't wanted to discuss her favourite actor, fashion, shopping or any other normal topics.  Instead she had preferred to write her diary and had once even asked for homework.  Now at last it seemed that she was coming out of her shell.

'I'll bring in some fashion magazines tomorrow,' I reassured her.

'No, I mean modals.  I want to study modal verbs and how they work.'

I went home to quiz my brother.  There was no Uncle Google back in 2003.  Or if there was, he wasn't the clever know-it-all he is today.

'What are modal verbs?' I asked.

The next day I delivered my first grammar lesson.  True, we covered only modal verbs of obligation...but it was a start.  It wasn't long before all sorts of grammatical points and structures were rearing their problematic heads.  The second conditional was a favourite.  After we had gone through the structure, it was time to practise using it.

'Julie, give me an example of the second conditonal.'

'Umm, if I had a lot of money , I would buy a big 'ouse.'

'Good! Pierre?'

Pierre was an earnest looking fifteen year old with teenage spots and glasses.  He spoke slowly and hesitatingly.

'If - I - were - a - girl - I - would - stay - in - my - room - and - look - at - myself...'

And he allowed himself a slow smile of satisfaction.

A seed is sown

Rewind back 12 odd years to summer 2003.  Before the iphone or indeed any smartphone.  People were still addicted to staring at their phone screens - but they were more likely to be texting 'how r u? wots up m8' or perhaps playing snake, which was an incredibly simple but still deeply addictive game for dot matrix phone screens of the time.

I had a Nokia 3330 which was pretty cool because it could send rudimentary picture messages.  However they were expensive to send and I had little money because I was unemployed with little experience or qualifications.  I couldn't speak any foreign languages.  I didn't have a degree - in fact, I had never been to school. (I was home schooled along with my 5 other brothers and sisters).  Then my cleverer younger brother (cleverer because he was at Oxford studying modern languages and could speak fluent French and German) made me a job offer.

'How would you like to teach next week,' he asked.

My brother worked at a local language school, teaching French teenagers English during his summer holidays.  However, I was nonplussed.

'How? I don't speak French.'

'Exactly.  You're gonna teach them English - not French.  All you need to do is get them to talk in English and teach them 5 new words everyday. You only have to teach four of them and the money's good - you get paid £42 a day.'

£42 per day! It was nearly as much as I got for a whole week on income support!  £42 per day was over £200 a week! Enough to buy a spanking new Nokia 3330i....

'Ok, I'll do it,' I said.

In the end, it was exactly as my brother had said.  I taught four teenage French girls in their host family's house on a local council estate.  I taught them five new words a day, got them to write daily diaries and to speak in English.  They all came from middle class families near Paris and wondered why all English houses looked exactly the same.  Looking back on it, it was amazing that a totally unqualified teacher with no teaching certificates, experience, CRB or DBS checks should be allowed to 'teach' four girls who were under 18 years old in a unsupervised environment.

I 'taught' my four young charges in the morning for three hours, ate our packed lunches which were provided by their host family, then took them off to some 'cultural excursion' in the afternoon where we met up with the other students and teachers from their group including my brother who was teaching another class.  The 'cultural excursions' were mostly a joke.  One of the places we visited every week was the local dump where students were supposed to learn about recycling.  A favourite was the cinema on Thursdays because the tickets were cheap on that day for under 16s.  The big film that everyone was eagerly anticipating was Return of the King from the Lord of the Rings trilogy.  However, that wouldn't be on until December.  I had to content myself with looking forward to payday so that I could buy that Nokia 3330i with the interchangeable covers... And anyway, I was enjoying myself 'teaching' young French kids.  I enjoyed talking about music, books and films with them.  When one day I brought my acoustic guitar to class they were delighted and wanted me to teach them how to play their favourite Nirvana and Greenday songs.  I couldn't believe my luck.  I was being paid to play the guitar to an appreciative audience.  My journey to become an English teacher had begun.  A seed had been sown. 

River Boy leaves the Cult

River Boy leaves the Cult and walks off into the wide wild world

Chapter 3 - A new dawn

Godfrey's patience paid off. Exactly three weeks after Cloud Berry and River Boy had left the Cult, the Small Pixie Woman disappeared.

She left no note. Instead, she left a symbolic sign - a shoe pointing north on the kitchen floor. Draped over the sink was a single sock. And balanced on the hot tap was an apple.

Godfrey did a little jig as he hurled the apple out through the window, kicked the shoe under the table and threw the sock into the bin. Peace was his at last.

Although it was now early July, he lit a roaring fire in the study. He banged on the barometer and noted approvingly that the barometric pressure was falling. He thumped on the thermometer and registered that the digital display showed that the outside temperature stood at sixty-four degrees Fahrenheit. But he didn’t believe it, of course. More than likely, a blizzard of unusual ferocity was on its way and the thermometer had been corrupted. Why else was the barometer falling so rapidly? It was dropping like a stone!

Contentedly, he dug his ancient radio out from its hiding place at the bottom of a cupboard and tuned it into Radio 4. It was ten o'clock and the news was on. Godfrey sat back in his armchair and nodded approvingly at the various disasters that were going on in the world. Yes, the end of the world was approaching much more rapidly than people had anticipated! Soon people would have no choice but to sign up to the only option left to them...the Godfrey Simmons Cult. All was going very nicely. Suddenly, he leapt up.

“What am I thinkin’ of?” he roared. “A smoke! This very minute!”

It was only a matter of minutes for him to dash out to his old pick-up truck, roar off to the nearby village of Millsford and buy three packets of Marlboro Reds. It wasn’t so fast returning home again though. Godfrey was not what might be called a courteous driver. He was Godfrey Simmons – and that meant that everyone else on the road should give way to him. Unfortunately for Godfrey, while hurtling along one of the narrow country lanes, he met a farmer driving a big tractor coming the other way who did not share this view. The farmer had a wide trailer loaded with hay and Godfrey could not pass. The farmer refused to join the Godfrey Simmons Cult and give up alcohol and television. He also refused to reverse his hay into a field.

In vain, Godfrey raged and threatened and even hinted darkly about a plague falling suddenly upon the farmer’s cattle. The farmer sat there calmly, ignoring the blasts of Godfrey’s horn and then got out a pasty and proceeded to chew solidly on it.

Time was on the farmer’s side – Godfrey was dying for a cigarette and he had no matches on him. It would have been impossible to smoke in public anyway. The farmer might report it to the old Cult members!

His face burning with humiliation, Godfrey reversed his old pick-up truck into the hedge. He refused to acknowledge the farmer’s laconic wave as he drove his tractor and trailer past. Red with fury, he raced home and skidded to a halt on the dusty concrete of his farmyard.

He flung open his front door and ran into his study. He grabbed a box of matches off the mantlepiece, tore open a packet of cigarettes with fumbling fingers and began to smoke furiously.

For perhaps half an hour he was in bliss. For about fifteen minutes after that, he wasn’t so sure. Ten minutes after that, he was certain. His mouth was dry, his throat parched and his lungs painful. He hated smoking.

“Damn it!” he roared, flinging the remaining offending cigarettes into the open fire. “They ought to be banned! Bad for your health – and bad for your pocket! I shall ban it! I, Godfrey Simmons, of the Godfrey Simmons Cult, hereby ban tobacco! It shall be prohibited!”

He glared around the study. His eye fell on the clock on the far wall. He stared unbelievingly for a moment and then let out a bellow of rage.

“Quarter past two!” he roared. “Lunch is almost an hour late! I’m starving!”

He limped out into the hall. “Fiona!” he shouted up at the carpetless stairs. “It’s nearly three o’clock!”

There was no reply. Godfrey’s face twisted with fury as he inserted his middle finger into his right ear and twirled it furiously. He sniffed vigorously at a fingerful of old earwax and then stared angrily at it for a moment.

“Where the hell is she?” he demanded furiously. Then he remembered that there was no Fiona. He wiped his finger on his holey jumper and shuffled towards the kitchen.

“Where’s that stupid Irish Woman?” he grumbled. “Damn it! I’m hungry!”

He tripped over a shoe that had been left lying in the kitchen doorway and staggered, cursing, against the counter.

“Who left that shoe there? Who was so unmindful…? Oh, yes… yes… of course…”

He paused and held a heated debate with himself, his bearded face contorted. Perhaps… well… perhaps… no… well, yes. Perhaps being alone wasn’t so good after all. Besides, he didn’t like smoking now.

His face cleared. I need followers, he decided. I need followers to lead along the difficult path. I think I’ll go out and get some. Yes, I’ll get some disciples!

Once he had made up his mind, Godfrey was a man of action. He banged on his barometer (“Steady – don’t believe it!”), ignored the thermometer and then ate a meagre lunch of some cold leftovers from the night before. He returned to his study and set to work.

First, he wrote out some leaflets.

Fed up with your Job?

Ever wonder what It’s All About?

The Godfrey Simmons Cult is the fastest growing Cult in Europe!

Join us and discover your True Potential!

He added his address at the bottom and then nodded approvingly.

“That’ll bring ‘em in!” he told the barometer happily as he rapped sharply on the glass. “Still steady – don’t believe it!”

He drove to the town of Falmouth, where his long black cloak and shaggy grey beard drew many curious glances. His sister lived in Falmouth but he did not call upon her. Right from the start, she had been openly hostile and contemptuous about his Cult. She was a particularly bigoted kind of strict Catholic and regarded him as a devil worshiper.

Godfrey went to a copy shop and got five hundred leaflets printed. Then he drove back to Millsford, which was the closest village to his farm, and started distributing.

“Get the whole village to join!” he muttered as he pushed leaflets through letterboxes. “This’ll wake ‘em up a bit! Take their minds off shagging sheep for a while, this will! Get off me, you horrible little dog! How dare you bite my cosmic cloak!”

South east Cornwall near where this book was based

Chapter 2 – Cigarettes and rebellion

Contrary to Godfrey’s expectations, however, the Small Pixie Woman did not leave the following day. In fact, she was still there at the end of the week and showed no signs of leaving. The friendly little voice at the back of Godfrey’s mind grew impatient. It no longer sounded so pleasant. In fact, its constant reminders of tobacco started to taunt him. Godfrey began to feel murderous.

“Go – just go!” he hissed at the Small Pixie Woman after a smokeless fortnight had passed.

She stared up at him, her big green eyes slowly growing wider and wider.

Godfrey felt slightly embarrassed. Perhaps this was not the correct way for a Cult Leader to address his disciples. He drew himself up, stared impressively at the ceiling and added:

“The Cult has diminished in its power and glory. I feel it in the earth, I smell it in the air. Things that should have been tended to have been cast aside and forgotten. The members have deserted the Cause. There is no going back. This is the End. You must go forth and multiply – there is nothing for you here. The Godfrey Simmons Cult is no more.”

The Small Pixie Woman’s face cleared. She beamed and nodded vigorously. “Mmmm!” she said. “Yes, that’s what came to This One’s mind! Only this morning, One found Oneself thinking to Oneself. And then, you know, One heard One saying to Oneself. You know, Godfrey, the being River Boy that thinks of itself as a male has left and Cloud Berry who is a girl has left and all the other bodies that were here have left. And only a fortnight ago, Fiona left and it came to mind, Godfrey, that mebbe...” Her smile became broader than ever. “Mebbe – it came to mind – One thought that perhaps the Cult was breaking up, Godfrey! Do you think this might be so, Godfrey?”

She stared earnestly up at him, her small, round face shining like a moon.

He clenched his jaw, baring yellow nicotine stained teeth. “I just told you!” he hissed down at her. “The Cult is no more!”

She nodded fervently. “Mmmm! Yes, that’s what came to This One’s mind! One thought that perhaps destiny... that, you know, it was preordained that This One should become leader of the Cult! One thought it over, Godfrey and, you know, One heard Oneself saying to Oneself that it seemed – it seemed far more appropriate that, you know, that a Woman should be leader of the Group. In fact, One said to Oneself...”

Godfrey’s heart began to beat very fast and a vein flickered dangerously beneath the yellowish skin on his forehead.

“Look!” he said and his voice shook slightly with suppressed apoplexy. “Look, I – I don’t-want-to-talk-about-it! I’m the Leader of the Cult and I say it’s no more! I have spoken!”

“Mmmm! But when a being that thinks of itself as a man shirks his duty – then a Woman must take its place! One thinks that mebbe it was preordained that this should be, Godfrey!” She drew her small frame up gravely. “This One will be Leader of the Group! This One accepts the responsibility. It has been preordained that This One should be Leader. One thinks that mebbe…you should go forth and multiply, Godfrey! After all, this is what beings that think of themselves as male usually do in the natural world, Godfrey. Mmmm! This One has spoken.”

Godfrey's pale blue eyes began to flicker dangerously from side to side. His gnarled fists clenched at his side. Hatred surged through his veins. But he went into his study and slammed the door. The Irish massacre could wait...for now.

Chapter 1 continued...

The next morning, River Boy and Cloud Berry left the Cult.  A note pinned to the study wall next to the barometer informed Godfrey that they were fed up and wanted to lead a normal life.

“A normal life!” snorted Godfrey as he limped into the kitchen to show his wife the offending note.  “You see that, Fiona?  Your children want to lead a normal life! Ha!”

 He grabbed a couple of plates from the kitchen table and hurled them violently against the wall.

“A normal life indeed!” he repeated as he picked up and threw the shattered pieces into the fireplace.  “The only normal life is here – you ungrateful, immature, retarded idiots!  Well, who would have thought it?  The way young people throw away Paradise these days!  It’s obviously symbolic of the wretched times we live in!”

Fiona sat at the kitchen table and said nothing.  She seemed unusually quiet and thoughtful this morning but the Small Pixie Woman jumped up from her chair and started beaming and nodding vigorously.

“Mmmm!” she said.  “Yes, that’s what came to This One’s mind!  Only this morning, One found Oneself thinking to Oneself.  And One heard Oneself say to Oneself, One wonders what might happen today, Godfrey.  And then, you know, River Boy and Cloud Berry leave the Group and One thought to Oneself, this must be symbolic – the fact that Cloud Berry, who is a girl and River Boy, who thinks of itself as a boy, should choose to leave the same day and it came to mind, Godfrey, that perhaps there was something symbolic...”

“Oh, it was symbolic all right!” snarled Godfrey as he poked the broken crockery in the fire viciously with a poker.  “Why can’t you just shut up, you retarded idiot! he added under his breath.  “Be quiet, you undersized, weaker sexed, inbred female... Grrrr!”

 How he hated this Small Pixie Woman – with her constant nodding and smiling… A sudden thought struck him and he paused to tug at his beard.

There were now only three members of the Cult left.  If this undersized foreign specimen of the retarded sex should leave… then there would only be two members…. hmmmm.

The following morning, Fiona left.  There was no note – but all her belongings had gone.  Godfrey threw a brick through his bedroom window for appearances' sake – but it was only a half-hearted effort.  As a matter of fact, he wasn’t upset at all.  A little voice that had arrived only yesterday had now unpacked, got itself quite comfortably settled and had started to murmur pleasantly in the back of his mind.  A friendly little voice that repeated over and over again one magic word. 

Tobacco.

For the past few weeks, despite his fiercest struggles, a craving to smoke had been clutching at Godfrey’s lungs.  But tobacco was top of the Cult’s banned list.  It was impossible for him as leader to smoke.  But now, things were different.  Fiona had left, the children had left – there was nobody around to see!

Then he remembered the Small Pixie Woman.  Well, tomorrow she would go.  Tomorrow she could go and nod her stupid head elsewhere.  And tomorrow, he promised himself, he would buy twenty Marlboro reds.

Nowhere Children Inc.

Chapter 1 - The Beginning of the Cult
Polygamy. Bizarre sexual rituals in remote forest clearings. The leader of the Cult almost Godlike in his power over the other members. People rushing to cater to his slightest whim. His permission needed for the simplest of tasks. More and more members joining up every week. FBI now estimate the Cult several thousand strong – with centres springing up all over the world. Worrying reports of lethal weapons being amassed at Cult HQ.

Godfrey Simmons tugged at his straggly grey beard and nodded with grim satisfaction. Yes, that was how it should be. Himself at the head of the fastest growing and most powerful Cult in history! The only problem was, he wasn’t.

The Godfrey Simmons Cult, which twenty years ago he had believed would encompass the entire globe, consisted of only one member. Himself.

“It’s the bloody Irish!” he told the bedroom wallpaper gloomily. “They’ve taken all my followers. It’s a pity the Germans didn’t finish the job properly and wipe ‘em all out!”

Godfrey Simmons had attended a good school in his time but his history was somewhat patchy.

“Twenty years ago, things were different!” he told the bedroom doorknob sternly.

And so they had been. Then, Godfrey’s beard had been long, black and luxuriant and the Godfrey Simmons Cult had had at least nine members – himself, Fiona and their seven children. Also, people outside the family had been showing an interest. It had seemed only a matter of time before the rest of the world saw the light and joined up.

Godfrey had drawn up Seven Commandments by which the Cult must abide and had written them on a blackboard placed in the hall.

1. No Tobacco.

2. No Television or Radio.

3. No Alcohol.

4. No Violence.

5. No Stealing.

6. No Newspapers.

7. No Disagreeing with Godfrey Simmons.

These Seven Commandments were not a success. Everyone who expressed an interest in the Cult decided they could not do without at least one of the first three banned items on the list. Godfrey tried to sweeten it by changing ‘No Disagreeing with Godfrey Simmons’ to ‘No Disagreeing with the Godfrey Simmons Cult’. This was a smart move and many changed their mind about joining until he explained to them that they would still have to keep the first three Commandments. One woman told him that, as there was to be No Disagreeing with the Godfrey Simmons Cult, no-one in the Cult would disagree with her breaking any of the Seven Commandments once she became a member! Godfrey was so angry at her perversity, he smashed his entire set of crockery. He and his family spent the following week eating from paper plates until he bought replacements from the local car boot sale.

So no one outside his family ever joined. Then the children grew up and, one by one, they left the rambling farmhouse that was the Cult’s headquarters. Some came back to visit – but none of them ever wanted to stay.

Years passed. Godfrey’s beard started to go greyer; his face grew thinner and more lined. The membership of the Cult stood at only four – himself, Fiona, Cloud Berry and River Boy. Then finally, a new disciple arrived.

She was a small pixie-like woman from Ireland and Godfrey was glad because, although he distrusted the Irish, he preferred women to men.

“They’re easier to teach,” he told himself. “And they don’t argue like men do!”

The Small Pixie Woman had big, round, green eyes and nodded and smiled respectfully at everything Godfrey said. For the first two days, he was ecstatic. After four days, he hated her.

“She doesn’t take in a word I say!” he grumbled to his thermometer. “She doesn’t argue like a sane person – she just smiles and blocks it all out!”

He limped heavily across to his barometer, rapped sharply on the glass and peered angrily at the dial. “Twenty-nine point seven – it’s falling! Oh no, we’ve got heavy weather coming!”

In Godfrey’s study, he kept a barometer and a digital thermometer that showed the outside temperature. The two instruments were placed on opposite sides of the room. Ever since he had stopped smoking, he had got into the habit of checking them several times an hour. If the temperature or barometric pressure dropped significantly, he would go into a state of agitated excitement.

“It’s gettin’ cold!” he mumbled as he shuffled back towards the thermometer. “Aha! It’s down to forty-nine! There’s gonna be a blizzard! I’d better light a fire!”

He lit the fire in his study and in a short time the place was roasting hot. He nodded contentedly. “That’ll show ‘em!” he told the barometer. He patted his pockets for his tobacco – then remembered that he didn’t smoke.

“Damn ‘em!” he snarled at the flaming logs in the fireplace. “Damn ‘em all to…to live in small, sad Cults where nobody listens to 'em! Yep! Interfering – that’s what they are! Why can't they just let people be?”

Nursery rhymes revisited

“Rock a bye baby on a tree top

When the wind blows the cradle will rock.

When the bough breaks the baby will fall,

Down will come cradle, baby and all”

“Sleep little baby,

The baby birds are sleeping in their nests.

Sleep you also.”

(Japanese version of the above).

“Go to sleep oh baby,

Or the wolf will come and eat you!”

(Spanish version of the above)

The Turkish boys come up with a business idea.

A pleasant morning spent teaching. Baked beans on homemade toast with fresh coffee for lunch. A pleasant hour teaching in the afternoon. The Turkish boys came up with a business idea.

“We will start up a company selling fireworks. We will make a lot of money because the people here in Plymouth are always getting married so we will sell fireworks for the wedding.”

“How about divorce? Will you sell fireworks for them too?”

“Yes, we will make special black fireworks for the divorce. Give us £10,000. That’s all we need. Most of the money we will spend on raw materials. Powder is what we need…and rope.”

The Beauty of Cornwall

Sea, clouds and sky...things Cornwall is very good at.

Back to England

My holiday over, I went back to working for the other language school in Plymouth. News of my hand reading skills soon spread and R, a large, black girl from the Caribbean wanted me to read her hand. Studying her figure, I had anticipated a thick sensual hand with a prominent fleshy mount of Venus and possibly with lesbian tendencies but it was not at all like I had expected

“This is strange,” I said. “I’ve never seen a hand like this before. You’ve loved two people at the same time – there’s quite a crossover period here. But both lines are entirely separate which means you must not have had physical contact with both at the same time. How strange!”

Her mouth fell open. “How did you know?! It’s true! I had this really intense relationship with this one guy, then it kinda fizzled out then when I was still seeing him I met this other guy online. That was pretty intense too but it’s just finished. I never met him in the end.”

My students wanted me to read the hands of one of their teachers. She was a stout, pleasant lady in her fifties with short grey hair and a devout air about her. She didn’t speak any English so my students had to translate what I said to her. She had a single, very deep line on her love life.

“You have one very big love in your life,” I told her.

My students giggled. “She is a Sister,” they told me. “She has been a nun all her life.”

“Maybe the big love is Jesus Christ,” said Angela and the nun nodded happily.

Awoke early to a glorious sunny morning. I showered and the water was barely a trickle. Apparently, this going to be fixed today. Breakfast in my room then down to Pi Lek’s for morning coffee. Returned to my room to respond to my emails and transfer money to International House for my CELTA course next month.

Early and delicious lunch at the Italian restaurant. I had bruschetta as a starter then spaghetti with a simple but good pesto sauce. Penne, the owner, told me that she is selling up and going to concentrate on her organic farm in Kao Pronom.

After lunch I took the motorbike to Ao Nang. This was the first hot day I’d experienced this time in Thailand and it was wonderful to feel the heat soaking into my body. After all the rain, the tropical vegetation looked incredibly lush, the vivid green standing out against the blue sky. When I got to the coast, I found the tide in and the bay was just amazing.

I went for a delicious swim and lazed about in the water, looking up at the towering cliffs. I got out and applied sun cream as the early afternoon sun was probably dangerously strong. As I couldn’t really do my own back properly, I asked a nearby buxom German girl to put sun cream on for me. I felt really corny as if I was trying to pull off the oldest beach chat up line in the world.

She seem a little startled but proceeded apply sun cream with a surprising sensuality. She went on massaging and stroking my back for ages after the cream was rubbed in. However, I didn’t try any conversation while she massaged my love handles and all sorts of other places I could have easily reached myself. Which was probably just as well because not long after, a big burly man - presumably her boyfriend arrived and lay down next to her. They didn't appear to be ostentatiously talking to each other...but I could pretty much guess their whispered conversation....

"You never guess what happened!"

"What?"

"See that skinny foreign man over there? The one with the tight Speedo shorts?"

"Yeah, why? What about him?"

"Well, just now before you came, he asked me to rub sun cream into his bottom!"

"Really?! Do you think he is gay?"

"I'm not sure but I should think he definitely swings both ways!"

"Interesting. Do you think we should invite him back to our room? We still haven't properly tried out that bondage kit I gave me for your birthday..."

"Hmmm. He doesn't look very strong. He's very thin.  I'm not so sure."

"That could be fun! Let's bring him back anyway..."

If the tropical sun hadn't been so hot, I would have broken out into a cold sweat.  As it was already 30 degrees plus, I was sweating anyway.  I decided to go in for a swim and perhaps slip quietly away without the dangerous couple noticing. 

The German couple pretended not to notice me as I walked down to the water...but I could feel their eyes watching me beadily behind my back.  After twenty minutes in the water I felt calmer.  Perhaps they weren't going to kidnap and sexually assault me after all.  I got on my motorbike and went to Starbucks to try a Soya Caramel latte. Twas very goodly indeed. It was late afternoon before I headed back to town and watched the sunset from the balcony of my apartment. Then I tried the shower. Bliss! It was gushing out like the waterfall I visited yesterday.

I felt very relaxed. I thought of P and my relationship problems. I thought of my narrow escape from the German couple.  The world was a strange place, I reflected, full of unexpected surprises.  I decided that I’d had enough of being ‘Ben style’. From now on, I would always be straight with myself and everyone. The Reader might snigger at this but good intentions are not that difficult to make...its the keeping them that is the tricky bit.  My virtuous intentions made, I headed to the night market by the river to get a cheap, Thai meal of veg and tofu over rice with banana shake and Thai old fashioned style tea.

After a while, Big Steve got up and left.  He had not gone five minutes before Karen came past again.  I chuckled to myself.  It was like a sitcom here at the market.

"I just been speaking to your friend," I told her.

"My friend? You mean Somchai?"

"No, I mean your Aussie lodger."

Her face changed.  "Oh my god! You mean Big Steve? Where is he?"

"He went off that way about five minutes ago."

"God, what weirdo that guy is. Can you believe that he had a fight with his Thai wife and asked to stay at mine for a couple of days.  I mean, why not get a hotel? You can get a room by the morning market for three hundred baht.  Anyway, I said yes and can you believe that he ended up staying over a month?!  I mean, he never offered to help with the rent and he is so filthy.  He used to wear that vest of his for over a week in this climate...disgusting!  He absolutely stank.  And then he started making rude suggestions about us having sex and I was like, no way am I gonna have sex with a skanky person like that.  And he used to just live in my front room.  Really annoying.  Anyway..." Karen laughed wickedly.  "I used to bring my boyfriend back and then later his brother of course and we used to have really loud sex in my bedroom while he was taking over the whole of my sofa in the living room.  That used to make him really mad!"

"Bitch," I said and she laughed again.

"Yeah and he was always going on about all the big guys he knew in Krabi town.  Like, whatever.  When I was growing up in London, some of the people at school used to go on about how they knew some of the top guys in the Firm...but Krabi town? Cmon."

Thai coconut vegetable curry

Was it tasty? Oh yes!

Coconut curry

A tall and slim Chinese girl with long black hair in a ponytail, deathly white skin and a harassed expression came hurrying up to my table with a steaming tray.

"Hello? You order coconut curry with lice?"

"Yes, that's right."

She smiled with relief and put the curry and rice down on the table.  It smelt delicious.

"So sorry for the delay.  Enjoy your meal." 

And she hurried away.

Big Steve looked after and pursed his lips appreciatively.

"Now that's what I call a woman. Polite, well mannered, gorgeous looking but not flaunting it.  Not like my Isaan wife...well, I should say my ex-wife...who is an unbelievably lazy and money grabbing bitch.  Not like these slutty English girl who are your best friend one day and then turn on you like a poisonous snake the next! Oh no.  I've always liked Chinese girls.  They've got class, that's what they got.  They got class."

The Trouble with English Girls

I finished my coconut but there was still no sign of the curry I had ordered.  I set about scraping the flesh from the inside of the coconut with the metal spoon.  One of the main attractions of eating at a Thai night market is watching the bustle of all the people.  They are so diverse.  At the table next to me were five old school backpackers complete with dreadlocks and beads.  They were drinking big bottles of Leo beer - which is popular in Thailand because it is the cheapest but has a bad reputation of giving you a killer hangover due to the chemicals in it.  They were swapping stories of places they had visited in south east Asia and cheap ways to travel and save money.   At another table nearby were the more modern backpackers - young boys and girls on their gap year, sporting trendy hair styles, tatoos and piercings.  Most were engaged in searching anxiously on their smartphones for a wifi signal. 

A big shaven headed man with a big beer belly in a Chang beer vest, shorts and flip-flops wandered unhurriedly past.  His name was Big Steve. I had met him once last year with Karen at a street concert.  He glanced at the young backpackers and then spotted me.  His face broke into a grin and he came over to my table.

"Why hello mate!" he said in his Aussie accent and thrust out a big hand.  "How long you been back for?"

"Just got here four days ago," I said shaking his hand and he sat down in the flimsy plastic chair opposite me.  

"Good to see you mate.  Good to see you.  How's life treating you? You still seeing that teacher from the school?"

"No, she went and got married," I said and he laughed.

"They don't hang around, do they!" His face grew suddenly serious.  "Tell you what, you haven't seen your friend Karen, have you?"

"Yeah, she was here ten minutes ago.  Why?"

He snorted and laid his big forearms on the table.  "Because she's a dirty, poisonous, fucking slut, that's why!  I mean, I know you're English and I don't wanna talk bad about pommie girls to you but I'm telling you something, that girl is evil!  Me and the wife had a bit of punch up and to cut a long story short, I was booted out and so I asked Karen if I could stay at her house for a couple of days.  I mean, I used to like the girl.  I thought she was sound.  Well, do you know what?"

He leaned forward and held his eyes open with his fingers and stared at me.

"My eyes have been opened, that's what! Oh yes! Do you know during the time I was staying there, there was a constant stream of dirty bar boys that she was fucking coming and going at all hours! And  there was me sleeping on the sofa.  Mind you, she laid it out for me a few times.  I mean, she was all there if I wanted to but, do you know what? I got standards, I have.  I got standards.  I wasn't gonna touch here with a barge pole.  And even worse, can you believe that that fucking toe rag of her boyfriend stole three hundred baht from me.  Stole it from my wallet while I slept.  I mean, I knew it was him alright and when I fronted him about it he had the bloody cheek to deny it.  And I said to him, 'you don't wanna get on the wrong fucking side of me'.  Cause I know some real hard guys here in Krabi who would make his life extremely unpleasant if I gave them the nudge.  I mean, I could have sorted him out myself but it's more effective if he knows the sort of guys I'm talking about.  Some of those guys are guys you wouldn't wanna cross if you wanna keep your balls.  Oh no.  And as for that bitch Karen, you won't believe what she done! I come back from the market one day...and all my stuff is thrown outside and door is locked.  And when I bang on the door, the little brother of her fellow...she's shagging him now...he comes to the window and says she's not in but she wants me to fuck off.  Unbelievable!"

Big Steve shook his head in disbelief at the wickedness of women and drummed his fingers on the table.  

"You know what? The trouble with these English girls is that they have no shame.  Not even this fucking much."

 And he held up a big thumb and forefinger.

Krabi life

Went to have dinner at the night market by the river.  This is a great place to enjoy local street food at local prices.  The only disadvantage is that, due to its popularity with tourists and locals, it can sometimes takes ages for your order to arrive.  However, it is a great place to watch the world go by and the market vendors are usually quick to get you your drink anyway.  Looking around at my fellow diners, it seemed that big bottles of Chang beer and fresh green coconuts were the favourite choice of beverage. 

I ordered my food and then sat back patiently.  My chilled coconut arrived almost immediately.  No doubt my readers are aware of the amazing properties fresh coconut juice is supposed to have.  They will keep you young well after your sell by date and will prevent most diseases as well as curing them.  The Thais, however, give a word of warning about over consumption.  The liquid is apparently to be full of the female sex hormone estrogen so drinking too much of that will make a man more feminine.  I, however, was too much an Epicurean to be put off so easily.  No doubt my Thai lady friends would say I was already there anyway.  The most important thing was that it tasted absolutely delicious and when you finish the liquid you can scope out the sweet tender flesh with the spoon they provide.  According to the Thais, the flesh is full of the male sex hormone testosterone so I ought to be nicely balanced by the time I finish my coconut.

Anyway, I was sitting enjoying my mixed sexed coconut when Karen stopped by on her moped.  She wasn't wearing her helmet as it was after 5 o'clock and all the police would have gone home.  She was wearing a tiny pair of black shorts and a tight white vest top and seemed pleased with herself.

"I dumped my boyfriend and switched to his younger brother," she told me.  "He is really hot! He's soooo skinny. When he's lying on top of me I can feel his ribs digging into me....it's great! He's very selfish in bed though...I mean he's always wanting blow jobs off me but never goes down on me in return.  So now I force him to! Haha! Anyway, gotta go."

She started the engine of her moped and drove off again down the road.

Relax Coffee and Restaurant, Krabi

An English girl's problems with Thai boys...

B woke early and went off to work.  It was a beautiful day so I decided not to waste it.  I showered, did my morning exercises and then headed off on my motorbike to Relax Cafe for breakfast.  If you ever find yourself in Krabi town then you must breakfast at Relax! The coffee, sourced from the north of Thailand, is simply the best in town.  And the breakfast is pretty good too.  There is a massive choice from full English breakfast to Thai rice porridge.  There is a veggie option for pretty much everything, soya milk options and quick, efficient, friendly staff.  I really can't recommend it enough.  If any of you readers out there end up going to Relax then please drop me a line and I will show your messages to the owner... and hopefully get free breakfasts for life:)

Anyway, coming back to my story, I demolished a big breakfast and ordered another Americano.  It was hot, black and strong...just the way I like it.  I had an outside table and was in no hurry so I sipped appreciatively at my coffee and watched the world go by.  The temperature was still pleasantly cool in the shade although the tropical sun was gaining strength by the minute.  I felt happy and contented...which was hardly surprising really.  I suppose it sounds very shallow but sex and food really are and have been the two great pleasures in my life.  Those two combined with a lack of responsibility, of course.

A skinny girl wearing tiny denim shorts and flip-flops on a scooter drew up and parked on the opposite side of the road.  As she took off her helmet, I recognised her as Karen, an English girl I had taught with with at Khao Pranom school last year.  She was from south London and, unusually for this part of Thailand, was a properly qualified teacher.  She could have been earning £30,000 back home but instead she was on 30,000 baht (£600) per month here.  Her face broke into a smile when she spotted me.

"Hey Benny boy! When did you get here? Is there anyone sitting here or are you with a friend?"

"No, no.  Sit down," I said.  " I got here three days ago.  How are you?"

"Yeah, not bad.  I'm not teaching a Khao Pranom anymore.  I had a big argument with Ajarn Prem...silly bitch! I can't believe that she was lying to the other teachers about me behind my back!  She was spreading rumours that I was shagging Mr Chokchai! Can you believe that?!"

She picked up the menu.  "Hmmm.  Now what shall I have? I really fancy a full English but I really need to lose weight.  I'm not skinny enough.  I want to be able to see my ribs when I'm not sucking my tummy in, see?"

She pulled up her t-shirt and displayed her skinny torso and the obligatory belly piercing to me.

"Hmmm," I said.  "Looks like you could do with putting on weight to me."

She uncrossed and then recrossed her long legs.  "No, I wanna be skinnier than this.  I wanna be as skinny as my boyfriend then when I hug him in bed I can feel our bones grating against each other. Anyway, how's your love life?"

"Not bad...bit quite.  How's yours?"

"Hang on, I just gonna order."

She went inside to the counter and then came back again.

"So yeah, my love life.  Well I'm a bit pissed off with my boyfriend at the moment.  You know, he works at the Foo Bar and he's an arsehole basically.  He keeps lying to me and stealing my money.  And he's crap in bed."

"Sounds perfect.  How old is he?"

"19."

"You child molester! How old are you? 26?"

"No, 25.  Gosh I really wish I was 18!  Anyway, I really fancy his younger brother.  He's 17 and even skinnier than my boyfriend.  That's why I'm trying to lose weight so that I can seduce his younger brother!"

The sexual obsessions of a 30s TEFL teacher

Woke up early again. Weather was still perfect. In fact, it wasn’t far off a perfect English summer in Cornwall. It was warm but there was still a pleasant coolness underlying it all.

After I had showered and meditated and was contemplating the pleasant day ahead, the realisation suddenly struck me that this very moment that we are in is of vital importance as it affects what will follow. If one is to have a good life and future then one shouldn’t entertain a single negative thought of any kind as this will lead onto other negatively related thoughts and experiences. Positive thinking is so important.

I ate a good breakfast at Relax Coffee and met Jim from England who lives here half of the year. After a chat over a leisurely coffee, I headed off to swim at Ao Nang. It was glorious there….lovely cool, green water….soaking up the head of the morning sun between swims under the swaying palms…magic.

I came back to have lunch at the Jai shop and had an excellent lunch for all of 35 baht! Then I returned to my apartment for a shower and siesta. I slept for what seemed like ages but was actually only an hour. Then I arose, showered again and thought about an afternoon coffee. Then it started to pour with rain. Not wanting to waste time, I wrote my diary. It’s been a pretty good day, I reflected. All I need to complete it is to have a good rampant session tonight. The Gentle Reader shall find out if I got it later.

Now, as I look out of the window, I see that the rain has stopped and the sky looks bright. Bearing in mind what I wrote in the second paragraph of today’s entry, I shall sally forth with positive thoughts in the present moment…and who knows what delightful experiences I shall have when I go out! I shall report back to the Gentle Reader later this evening…

Gentle Reader, I have returned from sallying forth. I went first to buy chocolate brownies from Maharat Bakery which is run by a Dutch man. Then I went to share the delicious delicacies with Pim at the massage and tour shop. She gave me fresh coffee to go with the brownies but did not take any herself as she was afraid of getting fat. Between you and me, she already was halfway there but didn’t look bad for it.

Some girls are meant to be large and buxom. Nothing wrong with that.

I spent a pleasant hour chatting with her and then went for a run in the park by the river. It was beautiful with the scent of nutmeg trees in my nostrils and the golden light of the setting sun. I ran once around the entire park and then spent some time on the various exercise bars and contraptions that Thais are so good at providing in their parks.

I returned home to shower. How nice it was to have a full pressure hot shower! It is the little things in life that seem to make all the difference. While I was revelling in thus cleansing myself, P rang.

“Where are you, Pi Ben?”

“In the shower.”

“Hurry up. I want to take you to meet my grandparents.”

Well, it still wasn’t the most exciting invite in the world but it was at least a step in the right direction after the funeral of last night. I dressed and went to meet her father’s parents. They were both Chinese, her grandfather had emigrated from China when he was young and still couldn’t speak Thai very well. He was in his eighties and she was a year older than my father at 74. They were both lovely with a certain charm that some old Chinese people have. I liked them very much.

After some talk, we went off to have dinner at the market. P told me that her father had asked her mother when I was going to ask him for P’s hand in marriage. P assured me that the idea made her sick. She then explained all what would be expected….a big wedding, lots of relations, traditional ceremonies etc. I asked if her father would mind a register office wedding like in England and she told me that all her relatives and friends would be angry. I started to feel rather depressed at the mere thought of it. P then told me that her body ached and she was going to take some medicine and go to sleep.

I realised that, much as I liked her, I really was going to have to look elsewhere if I wanted sex. She just wasn’t interested anymore. But she still obviously wanted to marry me. Why? Just to have kids to please her parents, probably. Then there would definitely be no more sex after that. She told me that if we had children, she would send them to England with me and she would stay here in Thailand and work. And find a kik, she added with a laugh.

Needless to say, I didn’t find her humour in very good taste. A girl simply shouldn’t joke about taking another lover when she isn’t fully looking after her current one.

And yet it had been so different when we first met, I remembered wistfully. Then, she had been a little nympho. A sweet faced little nympho who was fantastic in bed and never argued. Asian women are so good at spoiling a man when they feel inclined to. So when they go off the idea, it can be a traumatic experience.

I bade her goodnight and headed back to my apartment. A heady idea was forming in my fevered brain. Last year when I was here, I’d met B, a Thai woman who was pretty much in the same predicament as I was. She was same age as me, had a great figure and was fantastic in bed. I remembered how she had asked me if I could cum in her mouth because swallowing semen was 'good for her complexion'. She was very ‘Thai style’, had a sexy husky little girl voice and was probably the best unemotionally attached shag I’d ever had. I got all hot and bothered just thinking about her. And I still had her number.

Now, I’d purposely refrained from calling her when I arrived in Krabi. I was in love with P and I had no intention of having more than one girl on the go and all the trouble that came with it. But now the situation was desperate and my lack of sex was starting to affect my relationship with P. Whatever she said or did just seemed to bring the frustrating fact back to me that she didn’t seem interested in having sex with me anymore. As my Gentle Readers who belong to the male sex will know, there is nothing more disheartening, depressing, maddening thing than to have the girl you have strong affection for to do this to you. You spend your time alternatively remembering the good old days when time together was a happy, intimate tiredness between bouts of joyous lovemaking and brooding jealousy. Who is she seeing behind your back? Who is she shagging instead of you?

Anyway, coming back to B. With trembling fingers and thumping heart, I dug out her number and dialled. I found myself thinking that it was ridiculous for a 34 year old man of the world to be feeling like a pubescent teenager but I couldn’t help it.

There was still no sound from the phone. I took it from my ear and looked at the screen. The call had cut out. I tried again. Still nothing. The number must no longer be available.

Feverishly, I checked out her contact details and found an alternative number. I dialled it and it rang! I waited with bated breath. I guess it’s crazy really how

important sex seems to a man who isn’t getting it.

There was no answer. After a while I hung up. I felt calmer now. Perhaps it was just as well. Perhaps I should just be resigned to a married life of celibacy…

I settled back on the bed and switched on the TV. I felt calmer now. It was a warm evening and I don't like to use air conditioning unless I really have to so I was naked. I propped myself up on the pillows and flicked through the channels. There were over 60 of them but there was nothing particularly interesting on. I decided to go to sleep.

Suddenly, my phone rang. My heart started thumping again when I saw that it was B calling me back. I pressed the answer button.

"P Ben!" said B's little girl voice. "Where are you? Are you in Krabi?"

"Yes, yes! Where are you?"

"I'm at home. You not sleeping yet? Are you alone?"

"Yes, I'm alone. Just watching TV." I was getting a hard-on just talking to her.

"Can I come and see you? Are you at the same apartment as last time?"

"Yes, yes!"

"Ok, see you in 20 minutes na."

Exactly twenty minutes later there was a soft knock at my door and B came in, her long glossy hair smelling of perfume, her firm buxom body warm against mine...