We chose not to engage with the 4500 Baht per person gala dinner, including a raffle with a top prize of a free massage or a meal for two in the restaurant and decided instead to head up the beach to The Swing Bar where they had live fire dancers performing to pounding Garage Music. We sat and watched with increasing alarm the antics of these fire eaters as they plied their wares without any regard for their safety or that of the increasingly inebriated audience who seemed more than willing to take part in the daring do rather than just watch.
The crowd were just as amusing. There was a Russian couple, he about six foot two, bald head, body of an athlete, her about two foot six, body of a wilder beast who chose to smoke a Hubba pipe. On it’s own nothing unusual but she didn’t seem to exhale. So she kept sucking without releasing anything. Fearing an explosion we moved away.
That put us next to a Canadian who has either not had any human company for years or had bought some dodgy drugs as he insisted on shouting, yippee ing and whistling whilst trying to start a conversation with all and sundry. He was a pain.
We left there and picked up our supplies from our room, mainly beer, some red wine and a beach towel before heading back out onto the beach.
Georgia had told us about the legendary buckets of whiskey they drank at the Full Moon Party and last night we saw them for the first time. You could even purchase a bucket with different ingredients and make your own.
However, most of them consist of some local alcohol and red bull which does nothing for my SVT so we just bought a half bottle of Sam Song the local hooch and ditched the rest.
We sat on the beach watching the fire lanterns which filled the sky but also due to the direction of the wind (off the water) managed to lodge in the palm trees and there were one or two scary moments when it looked like these would get out of control.
People had also bought their own fireworks which they were letting off at random. We were nearly the victims of an IED when we walked right over a lit firework the size of a milk crate which some dozy Brazilian had buried in the sand. He also let off a rocket the size of a Cruise missile which went horizontally out into the water rather than up into the sky. God knows what damage it would have done if it had gone up the beach instead of out across the ocean.
Twelve o’clock came and fireworks lit up the sky. We wished each other a happy new year, thought about friends and family. Those that we miss and can’t wait to see and those that we miss and well never see again. I realised just how lucky I was to be sat there at that place at that time when in other parts of the world lives are being torn apart. I suspect that’s what New Year is really all about?
Then we decide to head back to the Hotel but unfortunately my legs and my speech were no longer under my control and my Carer had to assist.
Jaki whipped out onto the street and bought some food which we guzzled greedily before sleep overtook us.
This morning I felt rough.
The sand in my bed had acted as an exfoliant and I had pebbles in the crutch of my pants. A can of beer had leaked into my back pack coating the camera lens with a sticky glaze and some idiot had spilt peanuts all over my pillow.
When we told George about this on the phone this morning, she said. “Good, your acting a bit more like your old self”.
That can’t be bad at 61 can it?