I’m still on holiday with Nik. I’ve “gone native” in several ways. I have become firm friends with Praba who attends my every need, the hotel refer to him as a butler but as we all know butlers have to be played by Stephen Fry and Praba is a diminutive, adorable, cheeky Hindu gent who has no discernible chemistry with Hugh Laurie. He brought his son, who is four months old, in to see me. The beautiful chap survived meningitis and now throbs with robust health that only those who’ve cheated death ever attain. I fantasise about liberating myself from the tyranny of luxury, the shackles of room service – which we all know is satisfying – but so flimsy, unlike the satisfaction of a soaring ribbon of incandescent light dancing through your heart, connecting you to all other life and God herself.
As you can tell I feel spiritually awake and as a result have taken to wearing a sarong. I’d say that my sarong is a harbinger of enlightenment, a quickening. If I tie a scarf about my head we can probably establish a utopian-socialist, one-world super-state in time for elevenses’. The monkeys in my garden are a source of great joy. They turn up on a whim, when I asked when I’d next see them Praba informed me that it is “difficult to predict the monkeys roster”. He is a good man so I overlooked this insubordination. He is a fella who conveys a great deal of love and through either his culture, faith or some genetic accident seems closer to truth than me; his ego being merely a utensil that binds the elements of his being, rather than a bloated overlord burping out sulphuric demands. The monkeys and their tiny hands make me chuckle. When they see me with a banana they clock it and tentatively approach. In rapid motion they resemble nothing I’ve ever seen, demonic, rustling deities in the foliage, inviting worship with their grace and valour. When they are still and fingering a fruit this magic evaporates and they are like us, greedy little idiots with jittery eyes and nervous thumbs with no aim but consumption. Praba tells me they sometimes come in the room and nick things they cant possibly need – like mobile phones. That is a senseless crime in anybody’s book – who they gonna call? Ghostbusters? I’d hate to return to the room and chance upon a skittery ape, wearing me jim-jams and screeching down the blower at my Mum, who far from being baffled would likely nod at my newfound articulacy. Atavism is the fear I have of a monkey in my room. It is for this, the ancient recall of discarded instincts that Tom and Jerry’s housekeeper lived in such terror. Actually I don’t think she worked for them directly – Jerry hated her and Tom didn’t have the means to meet her, doubtless insultingly low, wages. That woman should be paid a kings ransom for the shit she tolerated from them stupid pair of dickheads. Particularly Tom who when he invariably got his thumb whacked would scream in a man’s voice. Cats don’t yell like that, or have thumbs. In fact, now that I think about it Tom and Jerry was riddled with inconsistencies and half-truths. The dog next door could talk. Frankly I’m considering disregarding it as a lifestyle guide until someone at Warner brothers gives me a bloody good explanation.
Nik has taken some photos of me which will appear here soon, I look a twit so be gentle and I have written a piece about Jade which will appear here later. God bless her.
Now, I’m off outside for some monkey magic and possibly to turn back the evolutionary clock to a time where we weren’t so hung up on the little things like inter-special love-making and dressing up monkeys like little prostitutes and forcing them to do a chorus line. And they call it progress.
Hare Krishna
You always put a smile on my face. Can’t wait for you to come home. Am looking forward to seeing you in Cardiff on 14/4. I’ll be sat in the front row, look out for me and my sister!!
x x x x
So love your ramblings and your special view on things…this one was special though I think something deeper maybe going on for you monkey man! Wooohoo bring on the pics. Love you XX
Dear Russell Nice to hear details about the dear little monkeys and their dainty hands. I love your
Also good to meet Praba.
Is there any danger of more paragraph breaks for I am old and find it all hard to read all squashed?
Russell, don’t worry about the photos, they can’t be as bad as that glorious, summer-fun shot of you being pulled along by a speedboat on a commode!*
Also, the monkey sex thing can’t be that bad either. You know, with those tiny hands? It’s all about scale Russell, all about scale…
P.S. I think a good name for your favourite monkey – your primary primate, if you like – would be ‘Taboo.’
* [I’d guessed it was maybe because you were shitting yourself! But in all seriousness it was a glorious shot of you!]
I agree with Cecile, I have been sitting here, miserable in Qld ,while you were in my home town Melbourne?Such pain can not be expressed!!
Do tie a scarf around your head, it’s time! But make it a “free” socialist one state utopian society please…Oh and I’ll have a couple of monkeys with that! You are an inspiration, God herself agrees with me…
P.S. Love your blog.
P.S. The monkeys aren’t to eat- I’m a Vegetarian- ( I just didnt want you or the monkeys to get the wrong idea…bless
Becareful though Russ, dont get too obsessed withthem monkeys, remeber Bill Odie, he ovedosed on gibbon related experiences and look what has hapened there!!
Gen,
The M&M’s have broken up in NZ too. But I will endeavor to find a mixed bag which will bring me such joy I can only compare it to the day earth was created.
Just a word of warning about those Langkawian monkeys… if you are staying where I think you probably are, and happen to kayak across to an island, don’t picnic under the trees. My husband and I did that last year for our first wedding anniversary and were booted off the island by a gang of monkeys. They’re supposed to be vegetarian but stole all our meat and were not remotely deterred when I growled at them brandishing a knife – they just chased us into the sea! (their teeth looked seriously sharp!)
And don’t leave your shoes outside your room – my husband’s were stolen there (strong monkeys or maybe working co-operatively?!)
Lovely words. Thank you for your show in Sydney,
and for giving me a lovely smile when you got away for a moment from that madness upstairs at the weirdass Time Out ‘party’.
Blessings to you and your fabbo team!
x s
The monkeys in Mombasa, Kenya, quite politely opened my backpack by the pool, unpacked, very neatly ,my sarong, my paperback and my waterbottle, all to reach the banana nestled underneath. Their sleight of hand impressed me so much so I let them rob me. After all, what use is a banana…?
i am familiarising my young brain with dictionary dot com, and to thank for that, i have your good self. perhaps i ought look into your british hugh laurie, as i currently see him as less-LOLs expat-type doctor-man. i’m very much enjoying your holiday blog; my feet are strangely itchy, and you’re keeping my eyes unfocused on the present… roll on queensland at easter, may it be as enjoyable as your trip sounds. much summer(y) love xxT
Mmmmm, bloggy deliciousness x
Superb, as always. Sounds like you’re having a lovely holiday. Love you xox