It's the Little Things

So for the past week I've been getting some poems and prose down and having some chillout time, hence why I haven't posted a hell of a lot on here. I sit around in coffee shops or go for walks, I write in my head and sometimes on paper. I'm now well and truly settled here in Sanur and I love the fact that I can walk to the end of my road and be on the beach if I just need to sit and watch the world go by and gain some inspiration.

I'm getting to know the locals a little bit and I see the same faces at breakfast every morning. The guy who runs Stiff Chilli knows me by name now and refers to himself as Johnny Be Good...this always makes me smile when I go in there for a coffee or a light bite at lunch. The other day I was in there and one of the waiters was chasing a baby squirrel around the place. It was running between people's feet, squeaking and jumping around tables while people were trying to eat. The waiter cornered it and picked it up and took him discreetly out back, although I hope he just set the poor little thing free and didn't hand it to the chef in the kitchen.

I went to dinner at a restaurant called the Piccadilly the other evening. The restaurant sign is designed to look like the London Underground logo and they serve gammon, egg and chips. They even had this old telephone box in the middle of the room:


There was an acoustic duo playing cover songs by artists like Coldplay, Bob Marley and The Beatles. I was dancing in my seat and singing along. The lead singer could see that I was enjoying myself so he asked where I was from. I told him that I was from London and so he said he'd play one last song for me, what would I like? Being put on the spot in front of the whole restaurant, I couldn't think of anything so I told him to play what he wanted. He chose "Angels" by Robbie Williams. He lost me then. I was not impressed. Anyone who knows my taste in music, knows that I loathe that song, he couldn't have picked a worse song to play me. And so, unfortunately for them, the band lost my smile. But I didn't have the heart to be an arsehole about it so I clapped and said "thank you" when it was over.

In other news, they've moved me to a different room at my hotel. I'm not really sure why but it's bigger, has a power shower and a balcony. I still have a shite view of the building work going on out back but this little place feels like mine. It didn't have a towel rack like my other room (I wash my clothes in the sink and hang them up in my room) so imagine me trying to explain for fifteen minutes what a towel rack was. All the English-speaking staff had gone home and it resulted in me miming getting out the shower and hanging a towel up to five Indonesian employees - all completely blank and wondering what the hell I was doing. In the end, one of them understood the alternative word 'hanger' and I finally got my rack.

And if you're wondering what Keith's been up to, well, he's a little annoyed that I don't take him out much but he enjoys it when I take him to the beach when it's quiet:


Last night I went to Antida, the garden bar in Denpasar, the same place I went to last weekend. Although this time, no cake in my hair. It was a blues night so it was far more tame. I didn't get to dance, but I swayed side to side, as you do when listening to blues music. There was a lot less beer this time but plenty of rain and some awful hotdogs that we bought at the food stand. This is what Loïc and I thought if them:

We quickly downed some Carlsberg to get the nasty taste out of our mouths and soon cheered up...

Loïc's UK friend, Kat joined us for an hour or two. Turns out she lives in Clapham, my neck of the woods. She heads home on Saturday and said she has some PG Tips she can give me...happy days!!! I haven't had a lovely cup of PG Tips since I was back in The Big Smoke.

Make a Wish...

Today is my best friend's birthday so I'm going to dedicate this blog to her. It's her 30th and I always thought that I'd be with her on this day but I can only send a part of my soul over the Indian Ocean and across Europe to be with her. For five years going on six, we've practically spent everyday together. We could sit there on the sofa and jabber for an eternity, under blankets and cradling cups of tea. We reminisce, we joke, we pose random questions, we quote favourite comedy sketches, we trash bad programmes and we listen to the menial details of each other's day.

Today my thoughts are given to my dearest Katherine, the one who took me to the hospital when my eye was bleeding, exclaiming "stigmata!" to the frightened cab driver. Katherine who made up a dance routine with me to make people laugh on club dancefloors and whenever I'm sick, that darling woman brings me Rooibos, lemon and honey tea. Lazy days are always best spent with a good hearty breakfast and a marathon of Friends, the kettle going on every two hours and the comfort of Kat sitting there, laughing at the same things as me.

We've tried to let go of the days when we'd do shots of 60% Stroh Rum before heading out for the night, coming home all sweaty, shiny-faced and our ears ringing. Nights have ended with me holding her hair back and she pushing me down our road in an abandoned trolley. We would go through the pictures we forgot we'd taken the next day, cackling at the good ones and shaking our heads at the embarrassing ones. Once I laughed so hard, I spat my tea out all over her face and she didn't even mind.

And on my tough days, I'd wait for her to come home and she would have bought a bottle of wine and some chocolate with her last tenner to cheer me up. When I write poems or short stories, she'll close her eyes and listen and tell me exactly what she liked about them afterwards.

I don't know how I would have gotten through most things in the last five/six years without her. It was her that helped me to get here today. She encouraged me to travel, she gave me the confidence to do it. She helped me make lists, pack my suitcase and took the day off work to come to the airport. It wasn't until way after I'd planned my trip that it dawned on me that I'd be absent on a day that is as special to me as it is to her, but I guess we'll just have to look forward to the 35th, the 40th, the 50th etc...we've often joked about what we'll be like when we're old. I doubt that much will be different, we'll still be sitting on the sofa, under blankets, jabbering, trashing bad programmes and reminiscing about how we've reminisced. Although, I don't think our aged bladders will be able to hold the amount of tea we drink now. And I'd just like to thank her husband for putting up with our ranting, storytelling and giggling and for letting his wife be my wife too.

So, as I can't post a current picture, here's a few of those great moments:

My birthday where she made me a cupcake for each year of my age

Fancy dress - I was some kind of feline, she was definitely a rabbit

Snow day/no work day! Me wearing the ridiculously large Mickey Mouse gloves she lent me

Happy Birthday, Kat. I miss you x

More Sea and Sidemen

On Monday, Loïc and I went for a ride up to Sidemen. Now I've been trying to avoid getting on a motorbike since I've been in Bali but I've come to the realisation that there is just no way around it. If I want to get out of Sanur, I'd have to just grip tight and trust that it'll be ok. And it isn't so bad, really, I've gotten used to it. Loïc says that if I want to rent one myself then he'll teach me on a quiet road. But I think I'll just stick to being a passenger, it's better for everyone that way.

So Sidemen is about an hours' ride out of Sanur away from the coast but my goodness, it's beautiful.


Green, luscious and peaceful. The view of bountiful mountains and rice paddies provides enough entertainment for a visit; it really is all you need...that and a nice cold drink. And it's so quiet, so serene.

One of the perks of Loïc's job is that he gets to use resorts and hotels that are in association with his company so we hung out at this villa, used their pool, dined at their restaurant and was on our merry way without having to hand any money over - fantastic.


We'd taken a guitar with us so we spent some time playing songs and singing. Well, Loïc played and I sang (if you can call it that) and we taught each other new words with the help of a French/English dictionary. Mon Français est de mieux en mieux...

On the way back we headed to the sea. Our bums were numb from being sat on the bike for so long so we stopped off at Blue Lagoon, parked ourselves on the sand and played a few games of cards. It's another place that not many tourists know about...perfect.


Unfortunately, we had to end the day by going to a hospital in Denpasar as Loïc was getting some kind of infection in a few cuts and scrapes he had gotten from bashing into some coral when he went surfing a week ago. The cuts on his fingers haven't been healing and of course he had made it worse by swimming in the pool at the villa. So the doctors confirmed that the cuts were infact badly infected and prescribed him some gauze, cream and anti-biotics.

Pissed off that he can't play his guitar again for a while, we dropped it off back at his house and headed out for dinner at Stumba, a restaurant owned by his French friend, Franc. May I just say, I have encoutered more French people in Bali than any other nationality - aside from Indonesians themselves!

My flat English accent is drowning amongst the lovely swishes and trills of the French and the enthusiastic babbling of the Indonesian...it would be nice to have a UK ally...