Student

First of all let me make a couple of things clear..

I don't like boats.
I don't like bridges.
I don't do mornings.

After spending far too much time in Changmai I left with a new group of people towards the Peoples Democratic Republic of Laos..This could be quite a long one so get a seat and get ready to read....

The slow boat from Houyxian (I think) leaves at around 10am every day. This requires one to be awake at 6am, don't really understand why but we did it..after eating a less than filling breakfast and having too much coffee the herding began...

A single truck pulled up, bear in mind there where around 50 people waiting for the truck. It took roughly twenty minutes to get on the bloody thing, this was 7am, I was ready for killing somone.

So in the truck and off to the border post . We then found out that you can only pay for your Visa into Loas in Dollars. I didn't have any so conveniently a man appeared to change the currency. This happens a lot in South East Asia. Not being too sure if I got ripped off I approached the departure cross point, you need to do this at every border, if you lose your departure card you get fined, again, this happens a lot in South East Asia.

After enough red tape to turn anybody insane we got to the river. The mighty Mekong, and boy was it mighty. Each person negotiated the boat with a fully laden backpack. The boat sits about 30cm's out of the water, it also lists from one side to another...I enjoyed this immensely. Across the river and through all kinds of bullshit in the drizzle at around 8.30am. Visa acquired bag on and up the hill, a big hill. Only to get to the top and find that there was another cue. Great. After arsing around for roughly half and hour we got to the boat. The first guy we saw approached: "Sir, you have ticket? Sir you have Kip (Laos money), Sir you want weed?" This struck me as an undercover police man, the fact his friend was talking to the police only a stones throw away also turned my stomach. Undercover police man.

Onto the boat, straight through it past the roaring, well sleeping engine and onto the floor. We had the best seats in the house. While the rest were crammed into little seats at a 90 degree angle we lounged around and got to mingle with the locals.

Six hours later we arrived in Pekbong. A small and irrelevant town full of guest houses and restaurants. We did what you would expect, got roaring drunk and played the guitar for the whole night. By this point our group had swollen from five to nine. We had Phil, an English guy that rivaled me for eccentricity, Nicky and Deets, Dutch guy's who will reappear in this yarn, Julie a Crazy Aussie, Natalie and Joanna Irish girls who just love taking pictures and Sean, the South African with the best laugh I have ever heard.

The next morning we walked down the wrong stairs just to have to walk back up them and managed to acquire a place on the boat on top of the bags....nice. The day passed with out hindrance. Apart from Phil and myself believing on numerous occasions that we were going to tip over. Great fun.

Louang Prabang was nice not great but nice. Bloody expensive. We went bowling almost every night. I threw a bowling ball across two lanes which cause a stir. We slept until twelve every day and got messy. T'was fun. After five days of Liver bashing we left to Vang Vieng.

I don't know how much you know about Laos. It is 90% jungle and has had more explosives dropped on it than the entire world during WWII. Most of this was during the Vietnam days. It was used to wage a Guerilla war against Vietnam and by the CIA to flood Europe with Heroin. It has a history.

One of these places was called Vang Vieng, where I am now. Due to the massive influx of American troops during the war it got bastardised from being a nice little Laos town to a place with more bars than a Scottish city.

We came here to tube. Tubing, for those of you who don't know it is basically jumping into the inner tube of a tractor tyre. Onto a fast flowing river which recently flood so there are tree tops to avoid. On your way down bars throw ropes out too you and drag you in. Sound fun? It is.

Drinks are cheap, the notorious bucket is about $1.50. Beers are about 90p. As you can imagine I ended up fucked. The first day my last real re-collection was hanging upside down from the roof of a bar on a bamboo cane. The second day was not so much fun...

In the last bar on the second day two people fell into the river after the bamboo they were leaning on snapped and they fell into the river. Paul Seymour ended up lost in the jungle for about half an hour and came back with a gashed little finger. Raymond was hanging upside down like a fruit bat from the rafters and the tubes all started to disappear. We left just as it started to get dark.

After making it through all the bars and down to the end of the river -by which point it is dark- you have to pray for someone to get in the river to pull you out. You would imagine this to be a very de-facto agreement but there are some hassles. It is dark and the water by now is cold. You are sobering up and you do not have a clue where you are.

Anyway. We got out and started to walk with the rest of the throng, we came to a bridge and as you do I started to cross it, tube in front of me walking straight. Unawares to me there was a small gap between two of the planks. My leg went straight through the hole and I for one moment thought that was it.

Imagine the scene; About thirty feet above the river. One foot hanging down through this gap and the rest of my leg jammed in the ruddy hole I'd fallen through. Roughly about sixty people were on this bridge at the time and half of them started to panic, apparently the bridge was about to collapse. Great. I'm stuck to said bridge with an arsehole lifting me up by the underarms because apparently my leg would fit through. If it would have been able to I would have removed it myself.

It took about fifteen minutes for people to listen to me and begin moving the planks, that's all it took. Meanwhile, behind me some ignorant bitch had decided to start screaming for me to hurry up, then she went through the same whole and the same guy reappeared to try and pull her out. It turned out to be her boyfriend, they are a perfect match.

My injuries are: A huge knee which has dropped in size, just. A deep gash in the thumb of my right hand which means opening bottles is a struggle. Cuts all down my left leg and, on the night, some acute form of shock. Thankfully my mother was in town so she looked after me, that is all you want when you hurt yourself, your mum.

Anyway, that was pretty long and if you're reading this at work you should probably be doing something else .

Ladakh.  An ancient capital nestled in amongst the Himilaya's.  Surrounded by a large military base and the friendliest people you will ever meet, this truly is one place that you feel adventurous..

Two days ago we went, on a whim, no less to one of the highest expanses of water in the world. It is called Pangong lake. It borders what used to be Tibet and India and surprisingly it was salt water.

We arrived and our driver, Hassan, assisted with the tents. A man came tearing out of nowhere demanding that we pay him 100 rupees for the two tents, at which point I lost my nerve -it has been getting easier and easier to lose recently- threw money at him and told him to piss off in no uncertain terms. The joys of being tired and higher than any mountain in Europe, trying to breath can be difficult around here. As can running, walking or doing anything that isn't lying down to get out of the heat.

We came back from said camping trip at a godforsaken time in the morning. We were in a rush to catch a polo match. Yes, I said it, Polo.

Leh, sits as the most remote town in India at 3500 meters. It doesn't have a lot and everything it does have is sold as (the highest in the world) such as the tennis court -they really do know their clientele.

So we arrrived on said polo pitch after our guts had been dragged over the third highest road in the world. Did I forget to mention I don't like horses? Well there it is. I don't like horses. They are to big and unpredictable, like Tyson on valium, could go either way.

Ultimately I ended up sitting on the pitch as seven plump men ran their miniature horses ragged into the ground. A polo enthusiast, don't ask, informed me that they were really good. I tried to reply as if I gave a fuck but not really to much avail. I do try you know, but those who know me also know that my mouth may lie but my face cannot.

The only time anything remotely interesting happened was when two riders, horses and all collided in the middle of the pitch. This is more like it I thought as the ball came hurtling towards me, and my compadres, followed by a dust storm and in the middle of that storm where ten riders, all seemingly chasing the same ball, coming right towards me. However, to my benefit some happy go lucky guy managed to scoop the ball away and I returned to my seat, four rows down after making somewhat of an arse of myself.

Now i'm sitting trying to book an internal flight to Delhi, I know, be careful but toss it up yourself. An hour and a half on a crappy plane or 36 hours with a death defying driver hurtling over the top of the himilayas. I think i'll fly.

Buy the ticket, take the ride.

Mahalo brothers and sisters,

Talk soon

The day began with a knock at the door.

The manager of the hotel had enough. We spent the preceeding night drinking on the roof with an australian tosser who managed to offend the whole of Delhi, or so it felt.

During the night we had consumed one bottle of Indian Whisky (interesting stuff), half a bottle of rum, and twelve beers (at home this would seem like a normal night but in this hear it was anything but normal).

After our cultural calamity we got left with very little time to eat our breakfast. One of the guys who has joined us had a bad case of Delhi Belly. Street food for all when drunk! I was fine.

We got bundled into one of the smallest cars I have ever seen and sent on our way.  Delhi is massive.  After two hours of driving we were still in the city and the road  was slowly turning into a river. A mini-monsoon hit the city. Cracks of lightning played in chorus with claps of thunder and the rain provided the snare drum.

The adventure had begun. Our driver, sheesh, decided against the main highway and so left off at an alarming rate down the side of the Ganges. One hundred Km per hour along a single track road. With on coming traffic. He did not care. Ray and I occupied the left hand side of the car and felt toe-curlingly close to landing in the sodding river on countless occassions; this is India after all.

We drove for what felt like forever. Then into view popped the himilayas.

Our driver took us to a communal area for foreigners, a nice break after living in the streets of Old Delhi.

High up on a mountain side our hotel providces views that would accomodate the higher classes in the alps. But these are the himilayas and the river we are looking at, although polluted, is still one of the most holy in the world.

The Ganges stinks. I know. I went white water rafting down the bloody thing and jumped in, aswell as pushing paul in at one point. He he he.

Anyway. This place rocks myself and Ray have already embraced the culture -going commando in baggy nepalese pants- and we are all chilling.

All we hjave to now is figure out how to get to our next port of call. Manali. Apparently this is like India's northern equivalent to Goa. I like the north. The people are more than friendly and they smile. You can breath the air without feeling as though you are constricted and it is fun.

Hope you are all well and I will speak to you all soon.

Britain has finally faced up to the fact. Our children are going to hell because they play to many computer games. Electronic Entertainment is making them more depressed.

And of course they too will get the blame for the rise of the fat kid.

THE FAT KID. They have exsisted for many moons but now they are getting recognition. Moreover thet are discovering -inventing- diseases everyday to hide the one that everyone associates. Lazyness.

LAZYNESS:- A problem experienced by all when on a comedown from the night before, or after breaking up with a girlfriend, or on a sunday, or when stoned, or when its rainy or when -most importantly- Bored.

This is the probelm more children are becoming bored. And boredom breeds that nigily thing that can be known to some as a criminal record or -at least- some inner rebellion. The apparent best way to combat this phenomena is by plugging them into a computer console.

The problems begin here. If said child is plugged into a computer console from age five throuh primary school what hope do we have. Yes it is easier but it doesn't allow the child to develop mentally.

The problem is not in the country it is in the city. It is a cruel cycle this capitalism. People on low incomes have to live in a city to serve those on high incomes and to whom the price of the city is measured against. The peripheral areas of cities are populated by the leading employment sector, the service sector. And in those homes are the children. It is these children that are the subject of abuse from government findings that they are all fat or that they are more violent. Being violent is part of growing up here, much as it is in Rio's Favelas and Jo'bergs Shanty towns. The only reason it is noticed more these days is because there are more police and why are they in these areas?? I'll let you decide on that one.

This country is looked upon with almost the same dim view as America. Yes, we hath been tarnished with the same brush as our "Cousins". We are scum, the pastiest most violent and most likely to die in the world. Put this in retropect. Less people smoke in this country than in Greece, Spain, France and Italy yet they live longer. What do they have that we dont, nothing, in fact as a society we probably have more oppurtunites but what they do do is live outdoor lives.

The French send their children away on camps, round Europe with a few minders and a tent.

"Oh frank, a just dunno bout that. You know sending our little ted away round Europe in a tent. What if....."

Therein lies the problem. The cycnicism, the government warnings, the TV warnings the snoberry and lack of international boundaries we live upon. It is islandaphobia.

ISLADNAPHOBIA:- The inability to leave Britain, which is an island.

So instead we look through the Saturday edition of the sun and sign up for a weeks holiday at butlins. Or centreparcs or any other manufactured enviironment that might catch your eye. What do you do here. Swim; in urinated water sorrounded by armbands with small children attached. Run; Along with thirty other fathers that refuse to admit that they are only running to get away from the family. Alternatively you can practise archery which is infintely handy in everyday situations such as; Killing the neighbours cat, shooting your brother 'accidentaly' or trying to change the TV.

This is not a holiday. Even less is it a space where your child can look inside itself or try to have fun, the fun is made for it; As five twenty-some-thing stone women run past in Red Jackets hollaring abbout their show tonight. "Tonight its the Karaoke, come on boys and girls who thinks they are Britney Spears, Are there and Justin Timberlakes in the room???".

The only contestant is the fat girl that is so delighted that this time she can sing and there will be some one to listen to her, instead of an empty flat and the prenter of CBBC to eat her microwave dinner with.

Almost two months after Hizbollah captured two Israeli soldiers at a cost of nearly 1,400 civilian lives, the French are pleased to announce that they have arrived in the area backing UNIFIL.

A force mainly made up of engineers is hitting the coast today, this afternoon into tonight they will link up with the UNIFIL brigade, the longest serving peacekeeping troops in the world.

And what can they expect. Well a less than clear mandate has almost ruled out disarming Hizbollah, that -it seems- is still down to the Israeli Defense Force. This is the same 'Defense' force that has invaded other countries; fighting various proxy wars both for and with the might of American weapons.

It is a veritable testing ground for inventions such as the cluster bomb which has been largely condemned for ever being invented. An issue that came up in a recent debate was to what extent are the UNIFIL force going to patrol the border with Syria. The Syrian president, another Israeli enemy, has said that the original outline for the UNIFIL force would be regarded as a something of a hostile act. But do they care, judging by recent events if Syria so much as sneezed in the direction of Israel they to, would be digging graves for 1,400 of their own women and children.

A report on Today, interviewed a number of Lebanese civilians. All of them lambasting the current situation. When they were asked wether they thought the ceasefire would hold one woman turned round and said: "They need to name it Israel or America, just so we know." One man stopped his car to come across and give his opinion .

"They didn't do anything in this conflict" he said of the UN force and the Lebanese army, one of whose generals is facing charges of treason, after being pictured drinking tea with an Israeli general, moments before the IDF drove it's tanks through the front gate to their compound. Flags of Hizbollah flying high in villages are a sure sign of who the people support, and it is not only the military side that Hizbollah are winning, their pledge to rebuild the damaged homes of the Lebanese have hit the UNIFIL force hard.

The great British slogan, winning hearts and minds may have no standing here as our army is already entangled in Iraq and Afghanistan. The hearts and minds are never things which forget easily, ask anybody who has ever been heartbroken and they will be probably be able to remember the name, phone number and address of who did it. The Lebanese people as they were stuck under the missiles were praying for the second chance, the chance that all those promises over all those years might avert a second attack on Qana. And to that dinner date we never turned up, meanwhile the Hizbollah did and they picked up the civilian population when it was on the rebound, drunk on death and needing protection.

If any body in the UN thinks this is going to be easy look at Afghanistan, get in the popcorn for George W's next press conference its going to be a sell out, just like almost everything else.

SOURCE OF COMMENT, BBC 4 TODAY PROGRAM ON OBESITY.

There is an underlying problem in Britain today. We are facing a fact that soon one third of all illness albeit death will be as a direct result of obesity. The governement is looking at tackling it head on, with John Prescot intending to take part in the great Northern Run.

Other cabinet members involved in this weight shake up include Gordon Brown, John Reid and Anne Beckett.

John Reid has volunteered to take a run round the Helmland province to witness, through his eyes, the problems our troops are facing in South Afgahnistan. Lets hope he’’s quick.

Gordon Brown has targted a loss of 2 stone. He intends to stop eating and excercise by chasing Tony Blair to America and back, so as to bestow the same emotional greeting on George Bush’s arse as TB himself enjoys.

Whereas, Anne Widdecome is said to be in the makings of a masterpiece with her reality television show, “I’m a politician get me out of here.” In which she will pit both backbenchers and members of the cabinet as they attempt to win public opinion through false promises and secretarial affairs, David Blunkett was going to be a firm fav/ourite until his visa application scandal. The overall favourite to win the competition is Anne Beckett if she ever returns from her holidaying; she promises a false sense of empathy whenever someone invades the breakfast cupboard until she can get an official line from her friend, Ms Rice.

A place in the world where the scum gets to drop ash in the caviar. Mental patients sit side by side with normal folk. The most used toilets in the country and the biggest kettle.

Welcome to the coffee shop.

Caffeine, contained in both coffee and tea is a diaretic. This means it increses your tendency to 'drop the kids off' or take a wizz.

This shouldn't be to much of a suprise considering how intelligent you all are when it comes to coffee.

When you feel tough you'll drink an espresso, when you feel cool it'll be a cappuccino, when your broke it'll be tap water, and when you fell akward it'll be a half-caff coffee with soya milk, which promptly gets binned after you taste it.

Incase you were wondering i work here, yes that is me asking if you want chocolate on your cappuccino, as you grumble -legibly- about the amount of questions you get asked, we know but it's not our fault you are so goddamn picky, we have to cover our own backs, there is nothing more dangerous than a middle aged woman who picks up the wrong coffee before 9am.

This trade although menial is very rewarding. People on occassion smile, yes they really do. Unbelieveable i know, it happened twice in one day last week and i nearly quit so as to keep the good memories.

Some people say that this job is easy, and by some accounts it could be valid, for managers in particular. What is not easy is getting out of bed at half past five in the morning for nine days straight, only to be greeted by a bunch of stalefaced bankers (connotations aside) and lawyers. We know you get paid more than us, but i for one would rather, spend my whole life working for a menial wage if i could keep smiling.

People also say that money doesn't change you but if these people have been like this all their lives than there must be an alter-dimension were a race of anti-social aggraphobics, wound up about nothing live.

The object of your stone-faced desire is a relief aswell. In short coffee is not good for you. Too much and your heart wont remeber what exactly it is meant to be doing. Also correlatory evidence has shown that coffee drinkers are alot more likely to smoke. Appropriate.

So, the next time you have fully abused your barista to the point of suicide, contemplate the evidence when you recieve a 'goodbye' rather than see-ya-later, we could just be being nice or playing an incomprehensionable voodoo, with the world as you know it.