– At dawn, there are puddles on the parquet downstairs: bloated sofa and armchair are disgorging. They, and everything in sight here, walls, cupboards and their innards, are brownish to knee height and spotted with drying leaves and UFOs (unidentified floated objects). The armchair and its pile of stuff I wouldn’t dream disturbing yet, but when I push-pull the sofa sideways, oh boy, what muck underneath! It takes many trips to the back garden.
– Nasty little surprise: I forgot pre-flood to empty a middle drawer in the kitchen full of towels. I put every soggy, stinking item to dry in the sun.
– Nice little surprise: those fifteen plastic bottles I had stored in a bottom drawer maybe two years ago prove to be full of water. I can’t remember why I kept them there and full (prescience?) but reason it must be clean water: I’ll use it tomorrow to try and wash (part of) the living room. Now for the backyard…
– Pour écoper, ça, j’écope ! To make it easy on myself, I sing ‘Oh, bailing out is sooooo very hard to do’ as the Walker Brothers used to who made it to No 1 single in the UK when I was twenty. I won’t sigue with ‘The sun ain’t gonna shine anymore’ – or else as a pious wish, because the sun is very much around, making the exercise all the sweatier, even though the afternoon sky will turn grey with all that evaporation from the megalopolis-wide lake.
– With the water outside level with the front porch, I’ve recovered the use of my outdoor rocking chair: pure bliss! (Well, almost: that smell in the air, with brine a distant component.) So I alter my schedule: will read in it during the day, and translate or otherwise write indoors after dark. If out there in the lane the breeze gently curls the water surface, the garage area and the little garden are perfectly still mirrors.
– The note above was written before another fact emerged: the calamity of this earring-impaired family of newcomers, all four or I don’t know how many of them with STENTORIAN VOICES in an empty townhouse all orifices open amplifying their SHOUTS. When the teenagers among them crank up the radio and sing along look thung numbers, I just can’t concentrate on the Thai I read and must flee back to the mezzanine glass box, all windows and doors shut to minimise the noise. That Chinatown tribe is going to be more of a pain in the ear than even the resident Stradivaricurse. As it is, their houses face each other.
– I’m duty bound to report that tonight the food and water distribution resumed. The rice and something-something noodles combination was tasty but on the light side. If there’s another one tomorrow, I’ll claim my brother is visiting.
– Every other minute, there are echoing bangs in the night air: a way some simpletons have of, as usual prematurely, celebrating Loy Krathong Day: bangers in lieu of krathong.
– 11:47pm (Bangkok time): Yippee! My bilingual blog has 100 ‘active followers’.