July 21-31, 2005
Thirty-one and a half hours after leaving 5A we are finally at 2514! Twenty-one hours were spent in the air. About eight hours were passed in airports ... at both ends of our trip and at the near mid range connecting point (London's Heathrow).The remaining two hours of travel were spent in cars going to and from the airport extremities.
We are too pooped to unpack tonight (*).
(*) Though it's an early PM here it is an equally early AM back in Bangkok. My brain tells me to stay awake for a few more hours so that we can synch locally. My eyes are pulling me to bed. ... Watcharee is already there. Is that a mistake?1
1 No, God gave us coffee, alcohol and Valium for just this reason.
My son, David, found this corkscrew while in Brazil (*).
I have found the perfect place to display it.
(*) David has been living in Brazil for almost as long as I have been living in Bangkok: six years.
Today THOCBDC is starting a new series that should take us through the alphabet ... in a weird Edward Gorey fashion.
But, we won't necessarily travel from A to Z in an uninterrupted flow. Other more interesting things just might pop up to rattle this string of letters ... for example, between "I" ("for Ida who drowned in a lake") and "J" ("for James who took lye by mistake") I will be seriously tempted to push Don Bull ... "hey, look at the camera" ... to exercise his Read's Coaxer during our upcoming CCCC (*) convention in Vancouver.
And, for sure, "Una who slipped down a drain" will not be immediately followed by "Victor who is squashed under a train" if some pretty beach bunny should butt-in between this neighboring vowel and the consonant after we return to Fort Lauderdale.
For starters here is "Amy".
Ok, let me also give you "Basil"; otherwise you might not catch the drift of where we are going with this.
Tune in tomorrow for "Clara". Her demise is more ambiguous.
(*) Canadian Corkscrew Collector's Club.
Clara's and Desmond's cause of death conveniently rhymed in our coroner's final line on today's autopsy page. But there is no indication that these two kids knew each other in life. Or, even if they did have some sort of chance meeting I am sure that they would have had nothing in common (*).
Ernest and Fanny ... whom you will meet tomorrow ... are more kindred.
(*) Save for being next door neighbors in the alphabet ... and that they both were consonants.1
1 But so are 77% of all letters of the alphabet ... consonants, that is.
A peach and a leech kill off Ernest and Fanny!
George and Hector go next.
PS: Though we have only been here for 3 days we were starved for some 'home cooking' so we made the journey to the Oriental Market (*); located about 10 miles (@16 km) from us it is definitely a 'destination trip'. The market is owned by a Vietnamese family but they stock a wide variety of Thai imports ... including Jasmine rice. We also bought a new rice cooker that was made in Japan. Watcharee assured me that this Tiger model is much better than the USA Oster brand.
(*) Coincidentally, similar cravings led us to the Oriental Market exactly one year ago, on July 25, 2004.
PPS: She is cooking now.
As promised: George and Hector.
PS: Do you remember Sandra? She used to be Ken's wife. Both of them were with us on one of our corkscrew balloon trips in the not too terribly distant past: Prague. Remember her now? Sure you do!
Anyway, after having one kid on her own she now reflects on parental responsibility with this choice bit of email to me:
Presence of Mind
When, with my little daughter Blanche,
Harry Graham (1874-1936) [*]
[*] Harry Graham (1874-1936) was an English writer of children's verse in a tradition of grotesquerie and black humor also exemplified by Hilaire Belloc. His collections Ruthless Rhymes for Heartless Homes and More Ruthless Rhymes contain such verses as the above.
Say "Hi" and "Bye" to Ida and James. Liquids killed both of them.
PS: Did the bird die?
A NASA TV image shows the nose cone hitting a bird during launch.
Kate dies outdoors; Leo perishes under a roof. She splashes the turf; he makes a mess for the people in charge of the room. He is a breeze for the cosmetologist at Fisher & Sons; she might not have an open casket viewing.
Sea and ennui:
Olive was foolishly flipping an awl when her timing went terribly wrong. And right next door tiny Prue entered the saloon at a most unfortunate time.
Mire trumps fire as a way to go ... I think.