I am writing this from our cabin aboard the Cunard Queen Victoria. The evening prior to sitting down to putting pen to paper, sorry, so old fashioned, we had elected to have dinner at a sharing table.

If you haven’t cruised, you will have no idea what I am talking about, but it is a great way to get to know others who are your shipmates steaming toward the Caribbean Sea and all the exotic attractions the region has to offer. Most of the time you really hit it off with people and lifelong friendships can be nurtured in these far-off lands, or seas, but on other occasions, how shall I put this, maybe not quite so much.

This was one such time that fell into the latter group, the not quite so much group. Every now and again you come across someone, or in this instance, a husband and wife, who are, shall I say, a bit on the cranky side. Other adjectives would suit. Weird, loopy, bonkers and moon-touched come to mind.

I can write this without any fear of comeback, for if you don’t get to read it, they will be proved right and none of us will be here to tell the tale, or any tales moving forward. If you are reading it, they will have sunk back into such an ignominy I will be beyond their reach, physically or legally. If you share their views, I apologise in advance, but it has to be said, you got it seriously wrong this time around, didn’t you. Did you know the world was due to end on 30th January this year? No, nor did we.

First contact actually went well, we all introduced ourselves. The moon-touched pair, I shall call them Mr and Mrs Damas for the purposes of this story. Truth is, I can’t recall their names anyway, and why waste brain space on such flippant notions with so short a time left to us. Then it started.

“I hope you all said a final goodbye to your family and friends before boarding the good ship Queen Victoria,” said Mr Damas, I think his first name was Nostra.

Glances were exchanged, glasses stopped in midair, and some nearly choked on their pre-prandial rolls. “I think you can take that as a no,” someone offered up.

“Would you like to know why you should have?” asked a smug Nostra, we were now putty in his hands.

“I suppose we would. Pray tell,” said another.

“Well, it goes like this,” said the soothsayer, pausing a little for dramatic effect. “There is a hidden alien spaceship monitoring our every move. The reason, before you ask, is…”

I don’t think any of us were about to ask. I just wanted him to get on with it so I could order more wine. No, I don’t know if Mr and Mrs Damus had been on it or not, or anything else for that matter.

“It is parked behind the sun.”

He might not have used the word “parked,” after all, you don’t park a spaceship do you. The story was already so absurd and, for all we know, there might well be a huge galactic multi-storey on the other side of the sun. There could be, couldn’t there!

It has been monitoring us, I mean the Earth, for a long time now. These beings are jealous of our resources and want them. They are going to make themselves known to us in twenty days (30th January) when they will demand we hand them over or, regrettably, will have to destroy the planet and pick up the resources from the resulting debris.”

“And all the powers that be,” it was Mrs Damus’ turn now, displaying the same excitement a child shows when Father Christmas is about to come calling. “Well, they all know of this and are keeping it from us. That is why we gave all of our friends and family an extra hug, knowing we will never see them again.”

I wonder if the hugs were reciprocated. I think I can point out a small flaw in their story at this juncture. How the hell has it remained a secret if all the powers that be are aware of it? If you want to keep a secret, the very last people to tell are politicians. What’s in it for them is their usual reaction in my experience.

The couple excitedly informed us that it was not the politicians who wielded the real power, but some clandestine group made up of the top military brass from around the world. That was interesting, for one of the ladies at the table said she was partnered with one of the so-called military top brass, who was to join the ship in Barbados. I wonder if the aliens might now bring their attack forward, fearing that the cat had been let out of the bag.

Speaking of cats and bags, I wonder if the ship’s captain has a cat of nine tails tucked away somewhere. It could come in useful!

Might as well get pissed then, I thought. Champagne, fine wine expensive cocktails. Doesn’t matter, we’ll never have to pay for it.

I have to say, though, it is most noble of the aliens to hold off their attack until we have completed our sojourn around the islands of the Caribbean. They can’t be all bad, can they!

It might not have panned out exactly like above, but I am not a million miles away.

Elephants, Temples and Waterfalls

Ah well! Let’s get onto the crux of this week’s offering, just in case we have been spared. Our previous trip around Thailand...

We’ll start with elephants. As mentioned previously, Jane joined an excursion to see these fine animals, I don’t think a more majestic land creature exists on the planet.

Before any of you think Thailand, elephants and abuse, let me reassure you. The party were driven to the well-renowned Kanta Elephant Reserve. She is convinced that this has been catapulted into the top three experiences of her life so far. The party got involved with preparing their food, mainly rice balls mixed with vegetables, serving it to them, before giving them a good scrub down in the river.

Yes, she got wet, but the organisers are well prepared for this in advising all participants to take a change of clothes.

Before I continue on, riding of these magnificent beings is strictly forbidden at this reserve. If that is your dream, to ride an elephant, you will need to go somewhere else, probably to a centre where the care is not of such a high standard. If you think riding elephants is still for you, how about you replicate their predicament and, indeed, swap places with them. Get down on all fours, drape a weight around your neck equal to about 15% of your body mass, let’s say about 12kg on average, and crawl around for an hour or so. See how you like it!

Just like human beings the poor old elephants suffered during covid as much, if not more, than we did. I don’t think they could physically catch the virus but as with some of the loony restrictions brought in by governments around the world, Thailand were no exception to jumping on this bandwagon, the employees of the reserve were let go to return to their hometowns and villages.

No tourist cash, so care had to be reduced down to nothing more than a skeletal staff. The remaining staff, ran ragged of course, started to notice the elephants’ demeanour change. They are incredibly social and, for that matter, intelligent creatures. Like us they build bonds with beings, elephantine or human, whom they have developed a liking for, and they missed their friendly handlers, carers, to such a point they pined their absence.

They grew sad, they grew anxious and they withdrew into themselves. When things began to open up again and their carers, their friends, started to return, the pure joy could not be masked. They charged around the reserve trumpeting, jumping in the river and squirting plumes of water in the air. Apparently, human and elephant tears could not be restrained.

Just maybe, life might return to normal. I must confess, I am not really following the enquiry into covid, but I do hope that animals are represented somewhere along the line, and that such draconian action is never considered in the future. We are not the only residents of this amazing planet, but we might well be the worst.

Jane and I had booked a personal tour of the area. I will touch on two of the attractions we visited and leave the rest of them until next time.

We were collected at first light from just outside the hotel. We were to receive amazing guidance from two of the hotel’s own staff. Mini, as in mouse, her words not mine, usually worked in the hotel shop or reception, was our guide, having only recently passed her tourist guiding exams; Suet, not as in pudding, his words not mine, usually worked behind the bar, was our driver. We weren’t to know it, but we wouldn’t see the hotel again until after dark.

Keeping the nautical theme going from earlier, our first port of call was the picturesque, and rather wet, Wachirathan waterfalls. It was quite the hike to get to the viewing platform.

Mini went above and beyond, although I think she fostered a small curiosity of how this blind man was suddenly in her care, took on Jane’s usual role and guided me along the boardwalk, the easy bit although there were one or two steps, before we arrived at the bit of the path that was nearly all steps, hundreds of them. I always find it easier going up than coming down, my very limited sight allowing me to pick up the highlighted edges of the treads. I was already having nightmares about the return trip, maybe Mini might think this guiding lark was easy.

The view on arrival was worth every minute of the trial of reaching the top, and every anticipated stumble and fall of the downward journey. Kilo, no mega, perhaps giga, litres of water were crashing over the rocky cliff face and cascading down to the pools at their feet.

The sound was like a continuous thunder. Even though we must have been about twenty or thirty metres away, we still took a bit of a drenching. Wouldn’t have missed it for the world. I have a small confession to make here, and it’s not that I didn’t trust Mini, I considered it more prudent to revert to my main VI guide for the downward hike.

Jane knows how looking down, rather than up, at a stepped path shows itself to me as a flat incline. Dangerous, I cannot make out the noses of the treads going down. She will take me to the edge of the steps and tell me if it is a small, medium or large step. Sometimes our interpretations of these rough measurements are not quite on the same page, but we muddle on through. No incidents to report thus far.

I think Mini was quite keen to show off her newly developed skills at the next stop. This time, there were not hundreds of steps, there were what seemed like thousands! We were at the Royal Twin Pagodas at Doi Inthanon National Park.

These temple monuments, known as Chedi, dedicated to Buddha, of course, but commissioned by the Royal Thai Air Force to commemorate the 60th birthdays of King Bhumibol Adulyadej and Queen Sirikit, his in 1988 and hers in 1992, was a modern construction wrought from chunks of concrete and stone as opposed to hewn out of the natural environment as in the walk to the waterfall, which made the steps regular and easier to navigate from my perspective. All of the step edges were highlighted in a contrasting colour. A visually impaired seventh heaven, if you like.

The temples were full of information on the lives of the King and Queen up until the time of this celebration. Images of places around the world they had visited to promote the interests of Thailand overseas, much in the same way that our own Royal Family carry out overseas visits to promote British industrial, commercial and cultural exports abroad.

Some of the Thai people love their King and Queen more than they love their own families, they are revered throughout the kingdom. If there is a republican movement, no-one identified themselves as such, so I don’t think it carries the same amount of popularity as it does in the UK, or some other Commonwealth member countries.

The site was not only dedicated to the temples, but, in the main, was laid to spectacular gardens, consisting of wonderful examples of exotic and tropical floral displays. Many blooms native to these East Asian countries have now been imported into more temperate climes, such as Northern Europe including Great Britain.

I know that some invasive species have found their way to our shores, but we have also been blessed with the import of some of the most beautiful flowers on the planet which, somehow, seem to thrive in our cooler temperatures. I am no expert on such matters, but I assume that many varieties have been genetically altered to make them more hardy.

It was a lovely sunny day for our visit, but there was a chill in the air thanks to the altitude, so it was not a giant leap of faith to realise a cloudy day could turn it into something resembling an English winter scene, probably without the snow.

Despite the hordes of tourists, it was surprisingly peaceful, and those hordes, appeared to be very respectful to the importance of this shrine. I think it is widely accepted that Buddhism is a peaceful religion but, as we saw when we visited the old capital of Siam, they can be most warlike to defend their own homelands.

Places like this, though, paint a better picture of the religion’s true meaning. One of those rare places in the world, human creation being at one with nature and the environment, where any everyday stresses and strains are lifted from one’s shoulders.

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