Kathmandu, Nepal

‘On Me ‘ead Son’
Om Mane Padme Hum
I bellowed out across Durbar square, my shout was just enough to put the Nepalli kid off and the ball flopped down into the dust
momentarily his expression changed to mildly bewildered before windscreen wipering back to his usual, comfortable smile
1 – 0 to England
well actually about 23 – 1 to Nepal! We were playing a game of keepy uppies and not only was i rubbish at it, hot hoofing it nowhere, but like most of the kids, he was remarkably talented.
The ‘ball’ was made of a big bundle of black elastic bands, splunged and held together by a central rubber band, like some sort of sea urchin sputnik dish scourer!
good fun
the other kid selling candy floss looked on enviously, he wanted to play, but couldn’t neglect the business of hawking his wares
The candy floss, each in it’s individual polythene bag were hoisted on a pole above, individual pink fluffy clouds
hubba bubba above him
like possible cartoon speech bubbles, about his head



down the hurly burly of backstreets, i gawp at people, they gawp back, mutual curiosity, it seems a fair exchange!
One small child is misbehaving, his parents are jokingly tormenting him, his dad spots me, laughing, holds him up to look in my face
‘if you don’t behave you might end up like …that’
the kid is terrified, for all the world like staring at a re-incarnation of one of the beasty demons trampled down by Shiva
he has a point, i am all weary, bedraggled dreads, a bushy brian blessed beard, but now more than half grey
we all laugh



it’s a full throttle, in yer face part of town, cram cramped backstreets, where anything and everything happens
narrow little lanes, with traffic jams of pedestrians, perpetually horn beeping motorbikes and cycle rickshaws
a burly and a surge
comedy gold, i saw that staple sketch of 2 men and a large pane of glass, these poor fellows were trying to manouvere it along the street,
perplexed and worried by the whole kit kaboodle, they had to grappple with the chaos, dodging a motorbike, almost into the path of a porter,
bent double under the weight of 4 boxed television sets and a whole cage of hens
whoah, easy there, shuffle nervously too and fro

there ya go a whole splurge of local colour, the usual slew stew of adjectives, such fun for me to write!
i guess this blog, when i get around too it is goung to have to metamorphise into my travel blog. ho hum
i’m curious as to how it will turn out, with all my old epic posts, a sense of audience was easy, i knew who i was writing too
the trick was always a nice piccie, an anecdote, and then go slightly further than i intended too, but a bit of a tease, i never said ‘owt much
and i only started because it was seen as improper to send emails to who i wanted, such is life

I think as a travel blog, it should be much less polished, more confessional and raw, the blog i enjoyed most over the last couple of years was Joes
you could really empathise with it, you could tell when he was having a major wobble

yeah travelling on your own is harsh, theres lots of those moments. dang painful sometimes
some times are thoroughly brilliant, others, well, you just despair
the days are fine, always intrigue and stuff to do, but evenings spent eating dinner on your own, despair, the other night, after having not spoken with anyone for 3 days, i just went back to my room and burst into tears.
dread my own company, thats when i’ve really missed the kids
selfish really
but then the last 2 days, have been a giggle of chat. You just cannae tell whats around the corner.
It’s scarey and exciting at the same time


acchh just realised i’m away to the mountains tomorrow and theers a whole heap of things i wanted to write about Kathmandu
The riots, Bodhinath, the heart and spook spirit
hopefully when i get back!
love and heart vibes, just being still sometimes and listenning to feelings is betetr than all a babble