Here be dragons

Golden Nugggets

2012-03-02T18:52:00.003+08:00

This week we received our rent - a large bag of freshly picked corn-on-the-cob straight from our land. Now I can see you are all imagining mouthwatering, bright golden husks of sweet delight....

LUNCH - Corn on the cob
Ingredients:
Freshly picked Corn cobs (2 or 3 per person depending on size of cob and person)
Water
Pinch of Sugar
1 knob of butter per cob
Salt/Pepper to taste

Special Utensils required:
A cooker/hob/gas burner
Large lidded pan

Method:
1) Fill pan with water and bring to boiling point with a pinch of sugar
2) Drop in pallid, rather hard cobs.
3) Replace lid and simmer for a couple of minutes until at least some of them turn golden
4) Remove from pan, insert corn holders (jab end with fork)
5) Serve on a plate.
Note: do not yet smother with the precious butter until tested if edible.
6) Return cobs to pan for a further hour in the hope they will become more tender.

DINNER - Corn & Chicken chowder
Ingredients:
Cooked Corn
Chicken
Jipang
Onions (some big ones & some shallots)
Garlic
Chili
Coconut milk
Seasoning

Special Utensils required:
A cooker/hob/gas burner
Lidded pan

Method:
1) Remove boiled corn kernels from the cob (You can use the ones you've got left over from lunch)
Note: If you use your thumb to do this wait until the cobs are cold or you will get a rather large blister burn.
2) Coarsely chop the onions, garlic, chili and gently sauté in a little oil/butter until golden.
3) Add corn, diced chicken and peeled chunks of jipang
4) Stir in a cupful of water and seasoning to taste (in this instance I used a spoon of Gulai paste but it could have been anything) before covering with a lid to steam the chicken & jipang mixture until tender.
7) Add a cupful of coconut cream, bring back up to heat before serving on a bed of rice
Note: If you are experiencing severe dental problems serve with noodles not rice to make picking out the corn easier or simply omit the corn altogether from recipe.

COFFEE TIME SNACK - POPCORN
Ingredients:
Raw Corn Kernels (you've probably still got a very large bag of cobs in the fridge)
Oil
For dressing Butter, sugar or salt as you prefer

Special Utensils Required:
A cooker/hob/gas burner
Wide, heavy-based lidded pan

Method:
1) Heat a small amount of oil in the pan until it's the right temperature. To test this, toss in a couple of corn kernels replace the lid and wait for the pop. Note: Lift lid carefully, away from you, so the hot corn splatters on the window behind the hob and not on you
2) Throw in the rest of the kernels just enough to make a single layer on the base of the pan.
3) Replace the lid and swirl the pan around so as to coat all the corn in oil before returning to the heat to listen for the pop, pop, splatter bang, pop.......
4) Once they've cooled down, throw away the tiny blackened nuggets, making sure you scrape all the ones off the lid before soaking the pan overnight.

BREAKFAST - CORN FLAKES
Ingredients:
Cooked corn kernels (you may have to make a fresh batch unless you've still got some left over from yesterday's lunch and dinner)

Special Utensils Required:
Rolling pin (yep I have)
Oven (mmmm - tricky) or Frying pan (OK I've got several of those)

Method:
1) Roll out the individual kernels.
2) Sweep the resulting crumbs from the chopping board, you and the floor into the frying pan to dry-toast until they're crispy
3) Offer the result to your husband on a small saucer just to see

Actually the result of this experiment did have some relation to a breakfast cereal, just not cornflakes as we know them. More research on this discover that Mr Kellogg uses a 40 ton rolling pin and 600 degrees C, malted-air blowing, drum oven.

Current experiment: Have plate of raw corn kernels on Sun regulo MK9 (in-between showers) drying out for further attempt at pop-corn.

I think we basically have the wrong corn for anything remotely edible by a human, but as sweet "Mr Smiley" Botak took the trouble to peel and de-beard the lot of them it seems a shame not to try.

OK, Wayan have you made that catapult yet...

It's not funny

2012-02-11T21:51:00.003+08:00

So, our Saturday night pre-dinner lime-based drink was starting to take effect when there was a kind of splatty noise near our occasional table (two stacked upside down coca-cola crates). The wife, who has already been having a bad day as squeezing the limes was extremely painful, hampered due to recently open (unintentional [so she says] self-inflicted) burn-based wound, bravely rattles the crates. First pass yields nothing. A second, more aggressive thwack produced a further splat. Batty doesn't look too well. How were we to know their sonar is not capable of detecting a simple ceiling fan. Now, don't go all green, tree-hugger, save the snail on me, I know bats are protected in the UK but here they eat 'em and tonight is curry night - just need a few more. "Turn the fan up another notch darling, I've got the net ready..."

Techno Fail

2012-02-05T15:26:00.000+08:00

My beautiful big sister has discovered a problem with the blog. My incredibly clever use of some HTML codes don't work for everybody. So if you nip back to the previous post, the bottom row of text should have had some dotted underlines to show there were some brilliant hidden messages. In fact, I've used this method quite a lot - some of the funniest bits I realise now have been wasted - oh well, never mind.

I promise to be a little less subtle from now on - Yes, yes I know subtle doesn't normally spring to mind about me but Amanda is still teaching me how to be more polite and say the right things and not to fly off the handle every time someone does something crassly stupid.

This is a test of my new method hover here I don't like it as much, maybe on a quiet day I'll look into it some more. Dammit - there I go again and I promised not to...

Dungeons and Dragons

2012-01-11T20:40:00.001+08:00

You are sitting under the shade of a coconut palm watching a snake eat a frog. A stunning blonde sits next to you and proceeds to breastfeed her baby. Believe it or not that's what happened even if it does sound like a 1970s computer game...
West lies a stepping stone path leading to a small hut, South lies an inviting garden path leading to a turtle hatchery, East is a fully equipped dive centre and North is a beautiful sandy beach and the sea. Your knapsack contains a) a stick of chewing gum. b) a book of poetry. What do you do?
[N][E][S][W][Kiss frog][Kiss woman][Kiss snake]

Wedding Fever

2011-11-28T10:13:00.000+08:00

Our wedding: 1 afternoon, £107.50, excl. lunch.
Nieces wedding: 1 day, £15,000, incl. lunch.
Bali wedding: 4 days, 1 pig, incl. lunch (unless jewish or muslim!).

Our wedding: bride, groom, 4 guests, 30min ceremony 4 hour party.
Nieces wedding: bride, groom, 100 guests, 2 hour ceremony, 8 hour party.
Bali wedding: bride, groom, 1000 guests, 2 hour ceremony, 4 day party.

Ok, you could argue that hen/stag nights are a party on a different day to the ceremony and that a honeymoon could be classed as a party but you get the idea.

So one of our girls, Kadek (yes she has a real name but since she's only been working here a year I still don't know what it is), gets married. We are invited to attend on 2 of the party days that follow the ceremony.

Day 1: Our invitation is verbal - "be there at 5:30pm, dress up". I assume this means I have to wear a skirt again. At 5:28pm a group of us are standing outside the grooms house synchronising watches. It seems that in order to accommodate the magnitude of guests one has to allocate 20 minute slots per 10 guests (so in 10 hrs you can see [3 slots*10 hours*10 people] 300 people) which doesn't include the static entourage of 50 family members all milling about giving out cups of tea and cigarettes. Now by popular agreement it is precisely 5:30 and we can enter. The bride and groom greet us at the entrance - actually they've been standing there since 08:00am and look ready to collapse but they put on brave faces, we say hi and are ushered through to a table for our tea & cake. Sitting there, I get the feeling that everyone is looking at us - silly me, they are looking at us! We smile & wave & stare down the children who only know one word of english (hello) and insist on using it constantly - after 10 minutes I'm ready to snap, luckily I get a poke in the ribs by some toothless hunchback who urges me to move to the next table. This turns out to be the 'exit' platform where we sit for a respectful 10 minutes before leaving. On the way out it appears we have passed some test and are invited to tomorrow's bash as well. "7:00pm, casual".

Day 2: This is more like it, the band is setting up in the front garden, a huddle of menfolk with big wedges of cash (probably worth a pound) play a gambling game of what could only be described as 3D dominoes. A 50 gallon drum of stinky, home made alcohol stands in the middle of the grounds surrounded by - waiters? - who beckon you to try a glass. A plastic jug is plunged into the barrel, the frothy scum on the surface parts exposing the semi-clear liquid beneath and we are poured a glass of stuff that smells like a maggot infested gamekeeper's crow but if you hold your nose it tastes ok. As we haven't eaten yet we restrict ourselves to an unusually puritanical 4 glasses.
The band starts to play so in true pop festival tradition we push through to the front where 50 people have taken to the dance floor. 5 women (and I use the term loosely) take the lead. The band reaches fever pitch & the ladies drift off into a maniacal trance and start to really let their hair down - good job there are 3 supporting hairdressers associated with each prima-donna ready with pins/bones/barbed-wire to try and pin it back. We stand there open mouthed as the dance moves on to the next phase where the ladies plunge swords into their bosoms - I don't see any blood so I assume it's safe, I mean, they wouldn't, would they? The music stops abruptly, the spent women are ~~dragged off~~ taken away and we leave before dance 2 in case we get roped in and have to bite the heads of a few live chickens/bats/geckos - although, I am rather hungry...

Only one picture for this episode, but it's an S95 dammit. The boss is so impressed by our performance he's given us a bonus of going halves on a camera.
Oh, go on then. Here's some of the very first shots from said camera.

One is of our friends Robin & Chez who popped over for a week and are standing by the road to our land. The other is a view of Menjangan Island from our boat. Nice eh?

Butter wouldn't melt

2011-08-24T21:19:00.001+08:00

Our resident Golden Labrador Coral dog (yes, that's what we call her; the same as our Bali Whippet Luna is called Luna dog - or Snowy) is the proud mother of these 2 bundles of joy. Both little porkers since there are only 2 and Coral dog has at least 16 nipples capable of supplying a small African country (or Wales). One we like to call Ripyerfroataht dog, the other Chewyernutsoff dog because in spite of their super-cute appearance, the father (Blacky dog) was from "the wrong end of the beach" where men are men and boys are satay! It hasn't happened yet but ever since "the curious incident" where our resident adolescent turtle took the top off a small boy's finger (Silly sod - what responsible parent says "Go on Joey, see what it's powerful beak feels like") I do worry when I see the look on Coral dogs face as another tourist's child tries to walk off with one.
Apologies:
1) Holger. This has some rather unusual grammatical content - not very BBC I'm afraid.

2) Tanya. Please don't cry, they're not really puppies, just a couple of my old socks with a gecko inside photoshopped to look like puppies.

It'll cost yer

2011-07-16T22:26:00.003+08:00

It's OK, Adrian's medication is kicking in now and he has opened up Pisspad for me to create this blog (note from Ady should read PSPad - wife is pisspad, due to it being EvenToad¹)

After very nearly 2 years we think the staff have accepted us. Nengah has given us pet names. I am now Ni Luh along with 50% of the female population and Adrian is Wayan right down to the stinky wetsuit.

We have also added a few words of Bahasa Balinese to our smattering of Indonesian. It's the usual start to any language learning. We can say "How are You?", "I'm fine", "That's a nice arse/big tits/big knob?" I've tried Google translate for balls but all I get are recipes.

Dear Holga, does Sula have a sister? Nengah swears her doppelgänger was sitting in our bar only last week, right down to the facial mannerisms - but without the skin-tight leather catsuit.

I know we should get out more but we don't and instead the world and his wife come to us. Our only references are the dim memory of former life in the civilised world - with TV & Radio

If anyone out there wants some material for the next series of the Fast Show or the like, we've got it all here. (note from the editor again, some names have been changed to protect the identities of the innocent but if the real McCoys are listening we hope you will forgive us)

Welcome Tim nice-but-dim & Lucy darlings; ex-pat brits living in Hong Kong but Oh My. She would walk to the end of the earth for him and he would protect her from hell's fire but how on earth they have managed to get through life so far is beyond us. "Lucy darling come here you'd love this". "Oh yes, yes (intensely)) it's lovely" or for exactly the same thing "Ooh Lucy darling don't go there you'll be scared "Oh gosh yes that's scary" but the scariest thing of all is they probably run a multi national and there is another little Tim on the way...

Our day to day work requires us to deal with our potential guests through a series of emails until their eventual arrival. We have a saying "5 strikes and you're out" implying if it takes more that 5 exchanges to secure a booking for a 2 night stay and a day's diving there is something wrong with you and we'll suddenly become full & suggest some other nice place for you to stay.

But just sometime we get brave or curious...

Sally Creek and her lovely friends. Far too long since her first stay in Bali and the pit-pat of emails was not the usual idiotic request for me to be a travel agent, more "what can we bring you from blighty that will make your life better?" - cheers to Mr Gordon!! And the curiosity - she created and runs an organic lubricant company...

Chan; in spite of his seriously Asian name lives in Lancashire. Mmm I think, isn't that where cheese comes from? "Dear Chan, Yes, we have reserved you a room and put your name on the diving calendar. You will ~~receive an invoice through PayPal~~ bring cheese to secure the booking" And bless him he did - not exactly Lancashire but a B.O.G.O.F. deal from Tescos with Branston Pickle :)

Mrs Penguin brought us books and pile of Indian spices which are mixing well with the perfected yoghurt recipe. (Note to Peter for Jane, I've found the secret is to strain it).

The stream of guests is endless and we will be sure to share the highlights as they unfold.

¹That's another story...

Armageddon

2011-07-15T18:54:00.001+08:00

Sula rammed a new clip of armour-piercing shells into her Glock and slid a fresh round into the chamber before the ejected magazine hit the floor. The tinkle of hundreds of brass shell casings echoed away into silence. She stretched the skintight leather catsuit, slick with her own blood, over the powerful Honda and fired it up. Crunching over the spent cartridges, she snaked out of the hangar doors leaving a black smoking trail of rubber and powered into the daylight towards the launch site.

The Apache's mini-guns were locked into Holger's infra-red signature as he planted the last of the C4 charges on the rocket and set the timer for 'remote'. The co-pilot's finger hovered over the fire button waiting for a clear shot so as not to hit the thousands of gallons of LOX. Meanwhile 4 black clad ninjas abseiled down from the chopper onto the gantry and were closing in. Holger unslung the anti-aircraft launcher from his back and aimed at the Apache. The pilot snatched the collective and pulled away but it was too late. The chopper exploded. The shockwave hit Holger like a charging bull and tipped him over the scaffolding into oblivion. Still reeling from the blast it took him a second to realise he was freefalling and yanked the ripcord. The canopy opened immediately but wasn't much larger than a tablecloth - he was going to hit hard. The crumpled body of the helicopter sailed past him and splintered as it smashed into the ground. The rotor blades followed, they were much closer to Holger and the still spinning blades snagged the 'chute and catapulted him sideways out across the marsh towards the black forest.

Sula raced towards him wringing the nuts off the Honda, changing gear only when she felt the rev-limiter kick in. She nearly overshot the point where Holger went down and braked so hard the rear wheel lifted. Scanning the tree-line she saw the ragged canopy and her eyes followed the ropes down to his lifeless body suspended just above the ground. She leapt off the bike and sprinted across the soggy ground to the tree. A quick thump into Holger's chest released the harness and he slumped to the ground, she felt for a pulse, alive but unconscious. Her fingers reached beneath his jacket and removed the small metal box from his utility belt. Without turning she pressed the button, the sky lit up, a wave of burning hot air singed her blonde hair and Holger opened his eyes.

Shuttlecocks

2011-07-09T20:36:00.000+08:00

I am composing the next blog but I have to get this off my chest NOW!
Dear NASA. Do you seriously expect us (the general public) to believe that you have to delay the launch of the space shuttle due to bad weather? This thing has been designed and built by the best scientists and engineers on the planet to withstand the incredible extremes of temperature, pressure and turbulence required for re-entry and you're telling me that you daren't launch because there's a few clouds in the sky! Come on, that's like British Rail saying there's the wrong kind of leaves on the line, and no-one believes that.
So if it's OK to subject thousands of fare paying airline passengers to "fasten your seatbelts" in a bit of lightning but not astronouts? Jeez, can you imagine being told "We're going to send you into space in a craft that can't cope with a bit of a light breeze, now just sign here". I think not, Watson.

The Ants are my friends

2011-05-02T13:00:00.000+08:00

Hi. My name's Ady and it's over 2 months since I last posted a blog.

What's been missing from the last few posts is what's life really like to be ex-pat Brits living in Bali. Well let's do the things we miss first:

1. Our friends. We haven't really made many friends here, well not what you call friends. There are many nice people we meet but they're all transient - even the nice Dutch villa owners are only here for a few weeks at a time. I miss my mate Neil and I miss going down the pub.

2. Food. Man cannot live on chicken, rice and things alone. I need baked beans on toast and lamb chops once in a while. Unfortunately, even though there's some pretty good lamb in New Zealand, the trade route between there and here is more tortuous than to England. Drink, we can't bring ourselves to pay the duty - £40 for a bottle of imported spirits or wine is just too much.

3. Our own place. We love living on the beach, it's great but we never go home. There's always someone wanting something at dinnertime or at bedtime that we have to deal with.

4. Communications. Everyone here relies on mobile telephones, there is a wire phone network but it doesn't work, hence there is no broadband internet. The best we can get is a shared wi-fi link which at best gives us download speeds of 10kbit/s. Now I remember getting my first modem - 2.4kb/s so at least it's better than that but I know you lot are enjoying 8mb/s which is about 800 times faster! Skype is our main line of communication outside, but look! that needs a transfer rate of 20kb/s to be any good and for video - forget it. Our provider will speed things up slightly if we double our already steep (Rp350,000/£25 per month). On a Bali wage? not going to happen.
5. A car. We both miss our cars (stiff upper lip darling, we don't want their pity). You forget how much you used to drive - most days, so it isn't surprising we miss it.

But there's good stuff too:

1: The weather. Year-round temperatures of 30 degrees mean it's too hot to work which may explain the relaxed pace of life. Shall we go shopping? Nah, too hot. Shall we jump in the sea instead? hell yes! My wardrobe consists of 15 t-shirts and a pair of shorts. I don't have to decide what to wear, I don't have to conform to society dress codes. I put on a button down shirt and long trousers for dinner not because I have to but because I'm British dammit.

2: Food. There does seem to be an endless supply of Walls Magnum ice cream which we enjoy, in moderation of course - currently a mind-numbing once a month. Eggs are lovely - all free-range (no lion stamp though). For some reason I've lost a couple of kilos in weight but Amanda has stayed pretty much the same.

3: Transport. We probably will just buy a car, Amanda still doesn't like riding the bike so feels trapped and can't just nip down the shops. I, on the other hand, can just nip down the shops but I don't wanna.

4: Our own place - we're working on that. We have put in a bid for a plot of land as an investment. To live there may take a little longer. There is no water, no electricity and no house. Water can be obtained by sinking a pump down to the water table. Simple - except it's a long way down and going to need a mighty deep hole. Electricity can be purchased from the power company but the installation cost is likely to be astronomical. Alternative energy is another option but our (potential) neighbours have just spent €30,000 on theirs! The house. Hmmm. From what I've seen so far I'm going to struggle to find a competent builder. They do exist, I know because I've seen some well built homes however the owners all assure me that quality doesn't come cheap.

OK on the face of it we should come back, but I don't miss the weather and I don't miss the politics and I certainly don't miss the endless pursuit of earning more money. And there are other joys:

1. You get to see Whales and Dolphins! Right here! No shit!

2. You can see bird-eating snakes! OK not everyone likes snakes and it may be pretty distressing to see a baby bird taken from it's nest and swallowed before your very eyes (look carefully, you can see the chick's little legs poking out of the snake's mouth) but hey! that's nature. We get to see giant caterpillars, giant butterflies, colourful Kingfishers just sit on our counter for a while. By the way, I know it looks like a plastic toy, that's what I thought before it winked at me and flew off, still annoyed that it doesn't seem to exist in our bird book. Today another 50 baby turtles hatched - Wow, how cool is that!

3. We have got rid of the ants. Amanda has stopped chanting "the ants are my friends, the ants are my friends" as they jubilantly march another insect carcass around the kitchen. Clean kitchen - no ants. Simple.

4. We got rid of the rats. Clean kitchen - no rats. Simple.

5. On your birthday you get to go away for a few days and unwind (if you needed to) in an exclusive private villa. I spent most of my time contemplating its construction methods, obviously.

6. You get to appear on telly, not the BBC but still...

7. Amanda has perfected her bread recipe and we are now self sufficient in yoghurt.

So on the whole I think we'll stay.

Defcon 1

2011-02-19T21:47:00.001+08:00

I think the pesky mouses have up-to-date sat-nav for routes into the kitchen. 'Primary route blocked' [squeak] 'Turn left in 1.5 metres' [squeak] 'scale outside wall' [squeak] 'At the top of the wall, wriggle through eaves and jump onto wall fan' [squeak] 'Climb down fan pull-cord (ignore whirring noise, it stops on your way out) until level with spring-loaded cheeseboard' [squeak,squeak] 'do not enter spring-loaded cheeseboard' [squeak] 'You have reached your destination'.
The last place (we think) they can get in is the vent above the doors which used to have a mesh to stop insects. They've chewed their way through this so we need something a bit more sturdy (like wire mesh) to stop them. Mesh like I saw at the builders' merchant the other day so I hop on Mike and set off. About 2 miles up the road the bike starts to feel weird, Earthquake? no, have I ridden past some burning dope fields? no, must be a flat rear tyre then - bugger. So I snake my way to the side of the road and madly gesticulate (although we're slowly picking up the language ie. we've moved on from numbers, colours and vegetables to using some of the nice joiny-uppy words like 'and' and 'you' but nothing quite so complex as 'Excuse me my dear lady, would you be so kind as to point me towards the nearest motorcycle service station') to some old dear hanging out her washing who says in almost perfect English '200 metres on the left'. I stand there with my mouth open waiting for her to end the sentence with 'Luv' before I thank her and slowly wobble Mike down the road to the menders.
I do a double-take because it's hard to believe that the shed I've arrived at is the right place but sure enough there are 2 disassembled bikes on the ~~forecourt~~ mudpatch and a guy comes forward wiping his hands on an oily rag. By the time we've exchanged pleasantries his mate has already levered off the tyre and is inspecting the tube shaking his head. 'Too far gone to patch, you'll have to have a new one'. 'Um, ah, OK then' with which he pulls up a block of wood and indicates for me to sit down. Five minutes later I hand over 50,000 things (about 4 quid) and am about to leave when the mechanic very helpfully tries to start Mike with the electric starter. It's just the thing you don't want to happen, like going to the police station to get a pamphlet on home security and coming out to find 4 large officers pointing at what looks like a trail of blood dripping from your car boot. 'I fix, no problem' and again his mate is straight in there like a rat up a ~~pull-cord~~ drainpipe ripping off the sidepanels and exposing the starter motor. This is summarily removed and carefully disassembled. The 2 brushes and some iron filings fall out and the chap gives me one of those looks before rummaging in spare parts department (a drawer) and comes back waving the replacements (new ones mind, in a sealed bag). The soldering iron is plugged in, the guy again points to the ~~waiting room~~ block of wood where I sit and contemplate my wife at home wringing her hands and ringing my phone which is, predictably, still on the sideboard. While I wait, Guy no.1 shows me round the back where there are 4 secondhand bikes and a tarpaulin sheet which, in the style of a Ritz waiter, he rips off to reveal his centrepiece - a chopper! I coo in amazement and awe until I realise he wants me to buy it. Half an hour later the iron is hot, the brushes replaced, motor reassembled and I'm handing over another £4 - daylight bleedin' robbery.
The shopping is a bit of an anti-climax, I hand over my sample and 7,000 things and leave with 1 sq metre of shiny new rat-proofing. The mesh is installed, the fan relocated and it's cord greased, even relocated the cheese-loaded springboard. I'm half expecting to find a miniature Trojan Horse on the doorstep tomorrow.
On a more positive note, they no longer have a reason to come in. The new Reef Seen kitchen is in operation and the old one has been stripped and officially handed over to us Amanda who is busy cleaning all those places that haven't seen the light of day for many years, ready for all the shiny things we brought from the UK last year. We don't have a bin, brush or mop etc. but an afternoon trip to the 'Adi-Jaya' in the van soon takes care of that.

Putih

2011-01-13T19:21:00.008+08:00

I have agreed to visit Doktor Gigi. (Note the Gee is hard as in doG "ghiggy" not like the wonderful Maurice Chevalier film "JeeJee") I have a pain in my tooth, I am a diver, it's not getting any better and could be really bad.

It's only in Singaraja so I should be home by elevenses. We (that's me and the 2 Ketuts) leave at 6:45. Now I realise we are going to run a few errands on the way, that's what the Ketuts do. About a mile down the road Pak Ketut starts peering strangely and waving frantically at every oncoming truck until one finally stops a little way off. He leaps out of the car for some discussion with the driver. It takes only a few moments of chin scratching and head shaking before a final wave we can move on. This, it transpires is how to buy sand for the new building. "Better we get it before it reaches the builders' merchant" says Ketut and looks pleased with the deal.

Next stop Seririt, Ibu Ketut has to stand in a queue at the bank for an hour for apparently no reason. I amuse myself left alone in the car watching with disbelief (pun intended) as a young girl spends the entire time on her daily task of making offerings - at least a dozen different mini shrines outside the bank to be fed fruit & honoured with a prayer. Then we stop in Lovina for the photocopy shop to make the papers for Ibu Ketut to hold while she stands in a queue for 1/2hr at immigration before we leave her in the 4 hour queue at the tax office in the centre of Singaraja.

I'm dropped off at Doktor Gigi a mere 3 hours after we left home. I'm number 10 and they are currently working on number 3. Mmmmm, should have brought "World Without End". I admire three famous toothy smiles beautifully framed on the reception desk.

I turn my attention to the mayhem showing on the telly, I think it's a youth talent show, you know that kind of Japanese lunacy Chris Tarrant used to find - I've no idea what's going on!! But it makes the time pass until it's my turn with Hilda, the chinese lady dentist. To my relief she takes an x-ray which reveals that there is in fact nothing wrong - no holes or infection just floss user-error. I leave Rp200,000 poorer, armed with a tiny tube of Sensodyne.

On the way home we stop at Hardy's for essential supplies. Discover Sensodyne is only Rp10,000. Much more importantly (and more expensively) found pure unadulterated live yoghurt. Essential for the new addition to our household. No, not a small person, a yoghurt maker. We are indebted to Balvine for this inspired belated wedding present. After a miraculous 8 hours of continuous overnight electricity we have a pure, heavenly, creamy white, blanket smothering our fruit & muesli for breakfast

Speaking of white blankets, we forgot it was Christmas time until the card arrived - That to Pete & Hannah - but we heard it was a bit of a white one in Europe. If Geneva & Schiphol can't keep their airports open what chance do Heathrow & Gatwick have?

Chicken Rice & vegetable have new interest with jipang - not sure what family it comes from, grows on trees looks a bit like a smooth avocado, behaves a bit like a turnip when cooked, and tastes like... well nothing really.

The Pillars of the Earth

2010-12-10T11:47:00.000+08:00

This could be the most boring post ever. It's quite long, doesn't have many pictures and the subject matter is not every-ones cup of tea but here goes...
The new HQ requires some reinforced concrete beams to replace the old wooden ones. Ordinarily you would buy some RSJ's but here things aren't quite the same - they make 'em.
First the lorry arrives with 10m lengths of 5 & 10mm diameter steel rods (bent in half). Then wooden trestles are ~~thrown together~~ made from the old roof timbers which are seasoned coconut which is very heavy, barely floats and is used for everything. You know that satisfying "shick-shick" sound a sharp saw makes? well I don't. All I hear is a dull rasping noise like 2 mating hedgehogs www.prickthis.com/sounds_of_the_forest/CD#6(Twilight) and smoke rising as they friction-burn their way through. Anyway, the steel rods are straightened i.e. they open them out and bash them straight with a sledgehammer, if you've ever straightened out a paper-clip you'll know what I mean. Cutting to length requires a group discussion a bit like a rugby scrum complete with ear-biting as they fight over whether to use the newer metric tape-rule or the old one (rods & chains). The bending jigs

(that's a laugh) are attached to the trestles and one lad (presumably the apprentice) forms 200mm squares from the 5mm rod while the master-wroughtsman (or whatever) sets about the big stuff. By afternoon tea they've made this!
They need 6 and it's taken 6 men 8 hours to make one and that doesn't include the 6 cages for the footings or the (as yet undiscussed) horizontal beams.
The holes were dug last week and the gravel has arrived so it's time to mix some concrete. No, a lorry doesn't arrive with 20 cubic metres of premix and no, they don't use a cement mixer it's all done by hand with wheelbarrows and shovels and a chain of men with small buckets to transfer the heap to the holes. Each pile requires about 2 cubic metres of concrete which is about 400 buckets-worth. Now it's the holidays so all the bright steel has plenty of chance to rust properly before they continue next week.
I've just read "The Pillars of the Earth" by Ken Follett, £12.99 from Pan MacMillan, which is about a bloke who builds a cathedral in 12th century England - timescale 15-20 years so I'm a bit concerned about how long it will take. The book is filled with lots of sex and violence so maybe this will be just as entertaining.
Meanwhile, back at the ~~batcave~~ kitchen, the counter is also made of reinforced concrete. wooden shuttering is made, steel rods are cut to length and balanced on bits of roof tile. In a stroke of genius they remember to leave a hole for the inset sink (which they've been tripping over for the last 5 days) and grind some of the rods short. In a stroke of abject incompetence they don't see if it fits until the cement has gone off. "Pass the angle-grinder Charlie". The interior walls are cement rendered, a beautiful thing in the hands of a master craftsman or in this case, a thing. Tiles arrive and need cutting, they are 600mm square and about 15mm thick but I'm sure you just score and snap them like normal tiles, not physically cut them in two with the angle-grinder but hey-ho. The cut pieces are buttered with cement and stuck to both the wall and the counter-top with no gap for grout.
Now, I'm no genius but I'm seriously thinking that if I want to live here I'm going to have to build my own house (or maybe 3 years of foreman school and a whip is required).
I'd like to say "There, rant over" but I suspect I'll have enough material to be able to write a book about what will happen during the next few months. Ken Follett look out!

Saturday Night Fever

2010-11-28T18:21:00.004+08:00

The building work caused the temporary loss of the ice bashing stick and the limes are already squeezed. Improvise with garlic/chilli bashing stick and hope that double bagging and the T-towel will prevent any flavour cross contamination.

Supping the delightful (only slightly spicey) gin concoction a few moment later we have an earthshattering discovery. Bill and Ben aren't Bill and Ben at all - but Jill and Ken !! We move our chairs a little further away from the wall in case they lose their stick while inflagrante.

OK, OK we've been trying to get out more. We had a run of luck during the last round of the Restaurant game. Adrian landed on Community Chest which allowed us to accompany yet another LEC to Pondok Sari for dinner (P: This is LEC soon to be headed your way) although we did have to shell out a few bok. And I drew that coveted Chance? card - You have won first prize in a PR contest, collect Babi Guleng at Diana's exclusive establishment including rather moreish vodka & lime. If you refer to the "Key" for eateries in the lid of the game you will note that normally to cover the rent if you land on Puri Ganesha you need to have already built 2 hotels on Jalan Pemuteran.

Adrian taught Antonio Banderas and his brother to dive. Not exactly but 2 Spanish born Mexicans living in California. Considering English is their second (third) language they did rather well - maybe because the PADI materials are in American English. In any case he had a bueno time with them.

And I taught a lovely Indian lady to snorkel. Bearing in mind she was several years & kilos beyond her prime and couldn't even swim it was big smilies all round. And resulted in on-going invitation any time we like to their house in Bollywood.

Pak (Captain) Saria is suffering from seriously high BP not helped by a bout of gout. Cherries are very expensive here and red cabbage doesn't exist at all. Doesn't seem right to recommend red wine under the circumstances so putting him on a diet of aubergines. Temporarily captainless, all the boys now line up to drive reef spirit (please please).

Apologies for my continued lack of illustrations but my husband won't let me near his other (our only remaining) camera.

See how they run

2010-11-24T19:21:00.000+08:00

Renovations have started on both the main block and the satellite kitchen, yes I said kitchen the knock-on effect of which is (pause for fanfare) Hurrah & huzzah, we get Our own kitchen. No longer will we have to share with the Reef Seen staff and their funny habits.
Phase 1 is gutting the main building. Unfortunately this results in all the wildlife (Tikus) being homeless and looking for a new place to squat. Spencer/McInnes defences on Bikini Black Alert (shame Amanda's is turquoise). Phase 2 is to erect a summer house as a temporary equipment room and Phase 3 is the extension to the bar to create the kitchen. Now, no-one here has a clue what is needed so the Boss and the builder (using some form of telepathy) come up with a cunning plan on the back of a fag packet. As soon as Amanda gets wind of this she goes ballistic and starts ordering people about and making scale models. As she calms down I find her deep in thought no doubt designing our own kitchen and the occasional wry smile tells me she can think of nothing else other than when can we go shopping for a fridge, cooker, Oven !*#@?.
Phase 2 goes off without a hitch but Amanda, only recently healthy after her fever fell down its steps and is now sitting ankle akimbo with an ice bandage. But just try and stop her diving - compression's good for sprains isn't it? she asks.
Phase 3 Construction stops for 10 minutes as a girl in a bikini walks along the beach carrying 2 coconuts at about chest height. I can't quite work out what the workmen are saying but it's probably along the lines of 'look at the coconuts on that'.

Now it's 3 months old Erva's baby's feet can touch the floor. We were invited and duly donned our most respectful dress but were almost beaten when it came to riding the bike. Its step-through design means the rider can mount normally even in a tight skirt which he is not used to. The Pillion on the other hand risks a long prison sentence unless she adopts the Bali method - sidesaddle. Once there I'm disappointed to see the child being carried everywhere and not being allowed to enjoy his first day rolling around in the dirt eating worms (as is the norm in England - well, in our house anyway). We have tea and cake and say hi to the few people we know then leave - respect paid.

On my last Open Water course I had a lovely English couple (so I got to tell jokes and use long words) and snorkelling out from shore we could see lots of detritus in the water. Two tiny black things floated in front of my mask which on closer inspection turned out to be baby Sea horses. Wow! In all my years of diving I have never seen them - how do I tell my students that they will probably never see anything like it again?

The detritus was a precursor to another shedload of rubbish that was washed up which requires the whole team to clear up. The 2 diveguides, myself and 2 of the girls don wetsuits and snorkelling gear for the in-water attack while the other girls (who don't like the sun because it makes their skin dark!) and boys roll up trouserlegs and stay close to shore. The in-water girls make a nice pair, Masiti has removed her glasses to use a mask and therefore can't see anything smaller than say another person. She stays close to Dewi who acts as spotter/rest-station. The next day more rubbish is washed in so we go again. Most of the plastic is on the surface so we arm ourselves with whatever we can to net it: Other plastic bags, purpose made dive bags and Amanda uses a plastic crate. Today's influx has brought many unusual creatures in with it such as Sargassum frogfish (remember we had those last year too) and tiny flying fish together with a host of weird critters that live on the flotsam and jetsam that usually stays out in the open-ocean. No more sea-horses though.

Crock O'Shite

2010-11-04T18:47:00.005+08:00

The front seat of Chris's car is probably the most comfy chair I've sat on in a year (the rear ones being in the most uncomfortable category) So I was actually enjoying the 40 minute ride to Seririt.

Once there we turned off the main road to Singaraja, under an archway up a lovely bougainvillea lined lane to a brand new facility - The Building of Pain. Well not really but that's how Rumah Sakit translates literally. It is in fact a very nice hospital. I am accompanied by our sweet masseuse Masiti for introductions and translation services although my sedikit bahasa is sufficient. I'd missed the bit where she told them I'm 30 (I love her).

Only a couple of other personal details were written down, Amanda, Female. OK hop on the gurney.

They take temperature and note it's high - 38.8. Mmm, yes, that why I'm here although it has at least come down a degree. BP 90/60 - strewth they think, that's low. Strewth I think, that's high. They believe me.

Then they very expertly take a phial of my best red stuff and say just rest for 1/2 hr. Wonderful. This is also the most comfortable I have been for a long time.

I look up. Its lovely pristine cream walls and ceilings are joined by a delicate plaster cornice. I could be in England... Except for in this beautiful brand new edifice to health and technology there are three black dots on the ceiling approximately 3.5 inches NE of where the pole is now holding up the curtain. And when they do draw the curtains round me so I can read my good book in peace, now the sweet doctors and nurses can't get round the back of the desk without significant imposition into my bay. Which of course all of them have to constantly. I love Bali.

Results ready. Not low enough to tell - come back and do it again tomorrow. OK.

So I do, on my own this time as I'm deemed capable of communication. Oh you should understand I have a driver of course.

Results - you're fine, bye.

My fever has now being going on for 6 days and I yo-yo between so, so cold, shaking like one of those little plastic toys you get in crackers that hop all over the table going clackety-clack until they fall on the floor, to a rather good imitation of a raclette stone - tzsssszzz!!

I think they've told me I haven't got dengue or typhus or malaria but no idea what it is just hope the drugs kick in soon (even if Adrian googled one lot and they're for beriberi eek).

The Legend of Bagger Vance

2010-10-28T21:29:00.001+08:00

We have clouds too! What makes this photo marginally more interesting is you can just make out a woman mooning at our wind turbine (supply your own caption).

In order to apply for new visas we have to make the trip into Singaraja, a whole hour away! Singa means tiger and Raja means king - which is nice, although you could argue that Singaraja is to Bali as Basingstoke is to Hampshire. Slight problem that I'm teaching a course and wifey is stand-in guide as the real one is at another ceremony. So we both have to go for a dive first, freshen up and put long trousers/lipstick on all before 10am ready for the now waiting driver to charge for an hour into Singaraja, present ourselves for photo & fingerprints, charge back with a short stop at the supermarket in Seririt (cornflakes & yoghurt unobtainable locally), change back into skimpies and be on the 2 o'clock boat for the second dive. Phew!
Luckily this goes off without incident, we don't mow down any livestock/schoolkids/pensioners, we almost run out of fuel but the driver remembers to put diesel in instead of petrol, the 5 way traffic lights in Lovina are in our favour and it doesn't rain. Immigration are expecting us and we just swan in do the business and swan out again.

Imagine if you will a monster Christmas Turkey. It is now mid February and you're not sure if you can be bothered to pick it over one more time. Now replace the word 'Turkey' with the word 'Cuttlefish' and see what you can turn it into. Cuttlefish hash, Cuttlefish on toast, Cuttlefish thermidor washed down by a lightly fermented iced Cuttlefish broth - Oooh! the bubbles tickle my nose.

Speaking of fizzy drinks, I know you put lime in a Corona, and we often do things nearly the same but slightly different here, although I'm not sure Amanda was too impressed with the Bintang & lettuce floater I conjured up the other night. Note to self: cool the beer glasses upside-down in the fridge.

What is it with flip-flops? Everyone here wears them, I've tried but I kick them off with every step (usually somewhere stupid like up a tree or in a storm drain or at the feet of a wild animal with big teeth so I'm standing there on one leg wondering how best to ~~climb~~ ~~swim~~ ~~run~~ proceed). I've seen other men wearing them so I know it's possible, Amanda tells me it's easy - a monkey could do it - maybe I descended from the branch of apes without prehensile feet.

A tree fell down, it's mango season, the internet is back, everything in the garden is lovely.

The title is for no other reason than I've just seen a bag full of ants.

Cumi-cumi

2010-09-29T18:16:00.002+08:00

Still no pics since someone (no names, no pack drill - begins with 'a', ends in 'a' and rhymes with 'a panda') casually dropped the camera in the rinsing trough without the protection of its underwater housing.

Cumi-cumi (c is pronounced ch) is Cuttlefish. Little old lady arrives with polystyrene box of squid. milked of ink there are 4 squirming about in a dark grey soup pulsating and changing colour as squid do. Amanda selects a reasonably small one and hands it to one of our boatmen, Botak, to remove the bony core - if only we had a budgerigar. Back in the kitchen Amanda stares at it for a few minutes while deciding what to do. Poking it to test if it's still alive, the tentacles sucker themselves to her hand which she immediately withdraws and jumps back in terror. Fair play to her as she steels her nerve and goes in again - this time with more determination. "OK, I think I'll start by removing the skin". This turns out to be a relatively simple operation except for the fact that the eyes keep looking at her. We now have a nice fillet and some left over squidgy bits (and of course the eyes, which are probably a delicacy - your mum would say they're the best bit). Amanda, now feeling very pleased with herself, makes 2 piles of white splodge, one for the freezer and one for this evening's gourmet treat. "Fried or boiled?" she asks, the blank expression on my face says it all.

The lumberjack has arrived to deal with 2 trees we have to remove to make way for the extended patio. Earlier, the boys trimmed the foliage, removed the minor branches and felled the trees so the lumberjack just has to chop them up into useful sized pieces. Please note the extensive use of safety equipment: barefoot, no eye or ear protection, not even a high-vis jacket or safety cones to cordon off the danger area. This photo was taken using a 600mm telephoto lens from miles away and not (as it looks) from a few feet. Another tree earmarked for removal requires a different lumberjack, this one trained in aerial surgery - you can tell because he is wearing boots. Most of the upper branches are removed using the one-handed chainsaw method, the incoming mains cable you can see is used to break their fall. Bits of string are extensively used to tease the rest of the big lumps down onto the boys below.

I have another photo of an Indonesian daredevil/nutter. This one is fiddling with our wireless internet connection (so it'll be three days before I can post this). Note the un-tethered (or guy-less or stay-free or some other tehnical term - help Al) tower which is designed to hold, oh let's say, 10 kilos of antenna and repeater not the 65 kilo muppet who is currently gaily swinging around up there poking a screwdriver in his ear wondering why it isn't working. Is that a safety line I see? no, that's a bit of string for him to lower his screwdriver down with.

These and any subsequent photos courtesy of our land-based camera until such time as we a: cut back on the 'restaurant game' to earn lots more Bok and b: get enough time off to find a decent camera shop or c: a kind-hearted philanthropist sends us a Canon S95 with u/w housing.

Peter D: This is Indonesia, normal algebraic logic does not apply.
Peter H: I'm afraid Hannah can't come to playgroup until she learns to stop biting.

The Restaurant Game

2010-09-11T16:19:00.000+08:00

copyright © 2010 RabidGeckoGames (A subsidiary of the broken toilet company).

Overview: You are living in Bali and earn enough money to eat out once or twice a week. The rest of the time your own domestic goddess rustles you up a magnificent evening feast of free-range chicken, rice from the snow fed mountain plains and fresh veggies all on 2 gas rings. Every now and again the goddess needs a break so you have to take her out for a meal. However, the path to harmony is rocky and beleaguered with many pitfalls...

Object: To satisfy your goddess given your meagre earnings.

Players: 1.

Bank: You have a maximum of 250 Bok per week to spend on food. Goddess needs 10 Bok per day on groceries so at the end of 4 days you have 210 Bok in the bank and after 7 days you are down to 180. On the 8th day you get another 250 Bok so the frequency at which you can satisfy DG is variable depending on how much you are willing to spend. In simple terms, Feout = 250-(ein*10/7)

Dunlop ratings: Cost of dinner for 2 people

1 tyre =50 Bok
2 tyre=100 Bok
3 tyre=200 Bok
4 tyre=400 Bok
5 tyre=1000 Bok

So you can either eat out every day for 5 days at a 1 tyre restaurant and fast for 2 days or eat in for 5 days to accumulate enough Bok to eat at a 3 tyre place.

Restaurant politics:

Some do not pay all their taxes and could be shut down at any minute.
Some are run by tyrants who exploit local people - we don't want to support that.
Some covet your DG and will poison you to keep her (anyone seen my anti paranoia tablets?).
Some poach our customers so we boycott them.
Some have an over inflated tyre rating. (tee hee).
Some give us discount - we like these!

Bonuses: A wealthy landowner gives you 200 Bok.

Forfeits: A wealthy landowner expects you to supply wine at 200 Bok a bottle.

Gameplay: Each blank square on the board represents a night in and, if you land on one, costs you 10 Bok. The other squares are restaurants and clearly display their tyre rating. If you land on a restaurant that you can't afford to eat in, then all the other players must look down their noses at you until you cry. Some squares have a special meaning and may be bonuses or forfeits. Throwing a double 6 will get you a free spring roll. Here is 250 Bok, let's get started...

Still here (honest)

2010-08-27T14:33:00.003+08:00

British invasion - we hope the first of many: After hectic liveaboard out to Komodo, Rob, Wilma and the Randall boys unwind in Pemuteran. There had been a few strings attached to our allowing them to come which they more than fulfilled. Not just with the obligatory Rum & tobacco for us but extremely cleverly found the right booze & Cherry Ripes for the boss - not an easy feat from England as although made by Cadbury's are only done under licence in Australia. And they'd carefully lugged it all round Indonesia before trundling up here! Thanks a million to you guys.

AJS birthday: nothing special just a crazily busy day in high season. And the the girls rather embarrassedly organised one of those very chocolatey cakes the day after as in spite of many subtle hints and it being on the calendar they'd not realised it was a special day. Who cares - any day is good for cake :)

High Season & 1M guests: Well it's felt like it anyway. Predominantly the French at this time of year, including families of small people, which we try to put off or at least send them somewhere else to stay while encouraging Mum or Dad to come diving on their own. It seems that our marketing strategy has a flaw somewhere that means people forget we are a dive resort with a few rooms and not a hotel.

Dinner @ dianas: Nico invites us to the prestigious Puri Ganesha for dinner with just one caveat "you do like lobster don't you?". We arrive first and order a house Martini to be getting on with... Several hours, carefully prepared courses and glasses of WINE later we totter back down to our (humbler) end of the beach and reality.

Libur: Adrian and I have been trying our best to deal with all the people who turn up and expect to stay and/or dive without pre-booking. Our frustration reaches breaking point and our short answers to yet another stupid question to which the answer should be bleedin' obvious come across as rudeness. Chris decides we need a day or 2 off otherwise entente cordiale will be lost forever. Besides we've worked out we haven't had a break since returning from UK in March. Luckily Mark's place is empty (except for Mark) and we stay for a couple of nights in his Java house. A wooden shack in the grounds of his villa at the foot of the mountains which is basically a luxury tree-house (with a sunken bathroom). I think that if you live by the sea the gentle lapping of the waves drowns out all the weird noises but inland every little scratchy noise sounds like some fierce animal trying to feed it's cubs on our tasty flesh - oh the human mind is a funny thing. In reality the little scratchy sounds are insects trying to feed themselves on our tasty flesh... (Who didn't latch the door properly?)

Luna has landed: Chris has found a young friend for Cookie (our only remaining dog since the sad demise of Snack) who could be her own - peas in a pod. Chris assures us she'll be no trouble if we can babysit her for the first few nights in the bathroom until she gets used to her new home - and anyway she doesn't bark. Mmmm..?? Chris must be more of a parent than we think as in fact Luna barks as good as any Bali dog it's just Chris is immune to it. It's like Scooby and Scrappy are real.

Scaredy-pants

2010-07-09T13:53:00.002+08:00

Menjangan Island. A fantasy island inhabited only by a small herd of deer. It has white sandy beaches, pristine coral gardens and beautiful clear blue water. On a recent outing I assemble the guests and we leave the sheltered bay and it's full steam ahead for a lovely day out. Five minutes in and the skies turn black and the rain starts - "just a shower" I say as the captain peers down at me with a face like the thundery skies and points to the 3 metre white horses ahead. Do we push on in the face of adversity? do we heck. "Ready about?, Aye aye Cap'n". The silver lining is that I've forgotten to wear any swimming trunks which I'm sure, although my intrepid guests can handle most situations, wouldn't go down too well.

One of the things I thought I'd miss from England was the early morning birdsong, not so. Ulric has posted us a couple of bird ID books so all the LBJs now have names. We have Prineas, Munias, Fan-tails, Kingfishers and loads more. One of the boys was pointing to a tree in the garden last week and making the sign for a Manta ray, I thought he was mad but looked and there was an eagle (too dumbstruck to make positive ID).

Speaking of wildlife, we have ~~rats~~ mice, OK we have rats - not nasty black ones but nice brown ones. Oh, who am I kidding, we have rats! The little sods have nothing better to do than chew through the internet cable and wee on anything electrical. Amanda has discovered they like papaya sandwiches and shall henceforth be known as the Rat-catcher of Pemuteran.

Finally, I couldn't help but show you this picture of a first time diver. He seems pretty comfortable underwater wouldn't you say? [Dear PADI this was dive 2 of a 2 dive intro. I never take the camera on dive 1 so please don't take my license away]

Urban Myth No. 287

2010-06-16T14:07:00.000+08:00

Bananas prevent cramp. Scientific explanation to back myth: Cramps are (probably) caused by loss of salts due to dehydration and that these salts (potassium, magnesium, sodium) are present in bananas therefore eating bananas will replenish the lost salts.

In England I used to eat one banana per month and get cramp, here I eat one banana every day and still get cramp. A wise man from Tadley once told me that chips with lashings of tomato ketchup was the best cure for muscle cramps so I'm going to try that.

Our annual board meeting took place at the 5 star Mimpi hotel. Blew whole year's budget on a bottle of wine, got sloshed, didn't decide on anything.

Amanda is now becoming used to the geckos, ants, bats, mice etc. but the praying mantis that landed on her one evening was a step too far (my turn to laugh at the squealing "getitoffmeidontlikeit"). However, the "I think I'll just trip over this Spitting Cobra" episode was a bit more sobering. Imagine if you will the staff (Indra, 5'2" 20 kilos pictured here with a turtle) running towards me shouting "Mr Adrian, Mr Adrian, come quick!" and offering me a mop with which to poke about in the bushes and antagonise the beast even more while casually edging away with the rest of the staff to the next village.

On a positive note we have discovered a source of digestive biscuits and zippo fluid (sadly no flints).

Notice anything?

2010-05-08T18:07:00.000+08:00

We have been hobnobbing with the (mainly Dutch) ex-pat community here and going round to all their villas for drinkies. Most recently, Mark let slip that he may have some Gordons in a cupboard somewhere and that Amanda and I were welcome to it (what a thoroughly nice chap). That night we arrive on his doorstep glass in hand and "can you spare a farthing guv" expressions. We sit on his verandah drinking and scoffing real cheese and realise that his house is the least western and actually quite modest. If we just knock that pillar out, enlarge the kitchen, add a bathroom and locate it somewhere else it'd be perfect... I think we are a bit tipsy.

In the spirit of home-making we visit the new village shop and I now have a pants drawer. Oh and some frankfurters - how apt.

Loads more but I'm trying to keep the posts short and sweet (and with any luck, more frequent). Pictures! must include pictures, wanna see my pants drawer?

Back to work

2010-04-24T16:42:00.002+08:00

As the jet lag eases we are like a pair of kids on Christmas morning, re-united with our haul of newly collected belongings. I find Adrian sitting several feet away from the desk so he can see the panoramic view on his new screen.

I consult the dictionary (and Dewi) before dragging him "outside" in search of ragi and tepung terigu. The corner shop has run out so we dust off Mike to get to the Suki shop. Success. But now there is a rumble in the air and the clouds are welling up. This means the chances of a straight 6 hours of electricity are slim. I'll have to wait :(

So plant the second lot of courgettes seeds and back to unpacking. Chris comes in halfway through and starts eyeing the two brimming toolboxes and my saucepans.

We have an easy first couple of days back as Chris has sent all our divers to Menjangan Island. Just need to catch up with what's been happening and what's planned.

At last the weather looks kind enough to get baking. Quick check in the spec that it's not going to blow the circuit - thank goodness only 550 watts, we're safe. Mmmmm, the smell... The most perfect crusty french loaf ready in time for the barbecue feast at Chris's tonight. We have his old mate Michael visiting from LA, he hasn't lived here for fifteen years but remembers only too well about the cravings. He has brought chocolate, pickles and 6 varieties of cheddar cheese plus Chris magics up lamb chops and sausages.

Round 2 of the courgettes sprout to 4 inches and die - suspect sabotage as Nengah shows me picture of his thriving crop of "like labu" from the 5 seeds he snaffled from me during round one.

Chris disappears for a couple of days to Denpasar and comes back with the perfect safe for us - plainly we still have a lot to learn about where to shop. Not sure if it was a good idea for us to set the code after downing several Storm Bronze ales.

The souvenirs arrive (isn't internet shopping great) and all we have to do now is find lighter fuel for the 20 Union-Jack clad zippos before we hand them out.

My laptop is restored to health with a new battery - hooray. But think it's been sitting under the leak in the roof so the < >, < >, < >, and < > keys no longer work - boo. (sympathy with my sister here) Adrian kindly gives me the ASCII codes instead which is great except I still need the < > key to make them work.

Wakey-Wakey!

2010-04-11T10:56:00.000+08:00

Amanda's telephone serves as a perfectly good alarm clock as long as it is adjusted for local time. It was - local being Bali- unfortunately we are still in the UK. We are awakened by "SHOULDN'T YOU HAVE GONE??!!"

It's 7am and we were meant to have been at Neils for 6am. You've seen Four Weddings & A Funeral. Remember the opening scene... I don't think Ulric was too impressed at the language of his little girl.

Traffic is kind as we get to LHR terminal 3 still in perfectly good time for check-in. Only Malaysian Airlines have recently moved to T4... B*****ks (you may remember a sketch on the Fast Show where the family, laden with luggage, chase the dad who's shouting at them to keep up - that's us). T4 is remarkably quiet and there are no queues for check-in but the nice Italian chap on the desk assures us we are in the right place and waves our luggage onto the conveyor without batting an eyelid, even says my monitor will be ok as hand luggage. The breadmaker has to go through a "special" channel and we wonder if we'll ever see it again. Say bye to Neil (who's been brilliant) and head for passport control.

Once through there's just enough time for a decent cup of coffee before boarding. The Air Malaysia cabin crew do a lovely job of re-arranging the whole plane so Amanda and I can have the row to ourselves. For those less-seasoned travellers there is a video screen on the back of each seat and a handset that allows you to select one of 250 films, television shows & radio channels - enough entertainment you might think but it usually takes me 6 hours to choose, get 10 minutes into a film & decide I don't like it have a nap and start a really good film which ends about 10 minutes after we land.

Kuala Lumpur Airport. Just enough time for a coffee before I drag myself (and my monitor) back to the departure lounge. KL to Bali uneventful, lots of children but all well behaved. Land, sail through Immigration (thanks to the helpful mrs Ketut who looks after all our travel documents), collect our luggage and head for the green channel...

Customs want to see the breadmaker which we duly unwrap. Chap peers in the box, scratches chin and waits 30s before saying "ok". His eyes wander to my monitor and he decides we must pay import duty on it. Amanda "puppy-dog" Spencer feigns tears and comes up with such an unbelievable story that the guy also breaks down and helps us carry all the luggage out of the airport... I'm trying so hard to keep a straight face that I let out a small fart. Outside into the sun and find the smiling face of Mr Ketut who says we have enough time to go shopping in town before heading back.

We need a safe; the one at Makro is 4 times the size we need & 4 times the price so we try Carrefour. They have 10 models to choose from, some the right size and price but all look like they've been broken into not one in stock. Downhearted we head to the Dive shop. Here, at least, there is something we can buy - a new dive computer to replace Amanda's dead one. A sense of well-being comes over us as she hands over the readies.

Arrive at Reef Seen after short stop in Seririt to order some horse feed. Spend the first day re-arranging our room to cope with all the new goodies we brought back. The refurbishment of our cabin cruiser is complete and looks great, it's shakedown run throws up a small problem with the thrap flange bracket but is easily fixed by the insertion of a three eighths gripley.