Photo: The Gang

Somehow I've inherited seven Thai labourers to work on my boat. This includes their very own female cook who comes along with her pile of pots and pans to cook lunch. It seems she's part of the 'gang' I've 'employed' to re-caulk my deck and install a new steel antenna mast to my roll bars. They all arrive early at 7.30 every morning whilst I'm still lying in my bed and the day begins promptly at 7.45 by gathering under the two palm trees to discuss what work needs to be done. We also talk about David and Victoria Beckam, Wayne Rooney and someone called Neathia (that's how it sounds) who's the Thai equivalent of the expected winner of X Factor. First off I moan and groan about how early it is but then I get a plate of delicious bread and curried jam pushed in front of me with the usual steamed rice and oats. We then agree a price for the day but my standard practice of a simulated heart attack cuts no ice anymore. So we press on, it's six days now and there's no end in sight...

My 'gang' all call me 'Boss', which I quite like. I'm summoned by calls of 'Boss, come look?' and 'Boss, this ok?' which has the effect of making me strut around the boat yard in the colonial style that I think every Englishman should try at least once in his life. So, I got myself a colonial safari hat from Big Johnny on SY Cloudy Bay. Johnny's an Aussie from Tasmania who hates the 'Abbos'. He says I'll get twice as much work done at half the price if I harden up, treat my 'labourers' the right way and stop being soft. So he gave me this hat and he said 'this should do the trick'. I wear my new hat and my gang all laugh and mock me by mimicking the way I walk. When I get angry they tell me it's time for lunch, so we eat with our hands under the trees, sitting on a dirty old plastic sheet with a red rose pattern and an old curry stain that looks a little bit like dog shit.

Now, every afternoon when the sun gets hot we sit under the two palm trees drinking Thai rice wine, eating god knows what cooked by a female welder who refuses to let me wash up. I can't pronounce her name but her mother was married to two fisherman at the same time. And she keeps looking at me out of the corner of her eye and I'm seriously worried. Hassan the Muslim says she likes men with no hair... I tell them I want my deck finished by Monday and they all nod in agreement.

This morning I told them about a mate of mine, Stefan, who I've heard has been diagnosed with cancer. Hassan said they will all go to the Buddhist temple tomorrow and make a special song, but he's sorry he can't go because he's Muslim. He was nearly in tears. I'm not sure I really understand what they mean but it's nice that they understood? My gang were genuinely upset. Maybe this all sounds a bit gooey but I hope my mate Stefan is listenening out.

It's always the weird stuff like this that makes a difference.
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