Letter from Manila - Santol - of course!

Crikey

Nope, sorry. I've done my bit for the sick, lame and lazy of family over the last years, categories into which both Bruno and his father fall, the former in all three at the moment, now I think about it.

Got to admit that when Madam rang, my first and only question was, "Is Jey-Ann okay?"

It's time to look after Madam and the Girls exclusively, the rest can do as they please which, at the moment, seems to involve sharp edged weapons!.

Christ on a bike! My extended family have had their moments over the years but nothing that can hold a candle to your mob.
I don't blame you in the slightest for keeping a bit of distance. If it were me I'd be looking at a few international borders and several time zones.

Send my best wishes to the bits of the family you are trying to keep safe...

James

That it is. Shouldn't be surprised really as they don't generally go in for "I can see your point of view", "on the other hand" or "let's agree to disagree" type arguments/debates. It's straight into full blown shouting and/or screaming and if that doesn't work, whatever weapon is close at hand.

I was out walking my pup the other day and we did an extended trip through the heart of Ermita and witnessed three full-on domestics, all taking place on the street.

We should televise it all, sponsored by Red Horse of course. It's probably behind 95% of them.

Fun to watch though!


Thanks James. I like the theory, but no-one would have 'em! Maybe the Spratleys?

This is a different, and only vaguely related by marriage bit of the family to the ones we had all the carp with a while ago, so we don't really have any involvement. As long as my girl's safe, that's all I'm interested in.

I know she is, as she's tucked up in bed in the next room as I write, full of flu. Now I think on, the youngest is horizontal as well, only with, ahem, girlie issues, so Doctor Daddy George is a busy boy this morning! The local pharmacy have put me on their mailing list.

Nurse Madam has helpfully done one to Tondo, muttering about how she'd love to stay but water station calls, and all that.

I'll take the luncheon menu cards around the ward later.   

On the subject of cures, I'm cooking them and Indian curry tonight, so I'll up the chilli for three therapeutic reasons:-

1) The sweating will help break the eldest's fever,

2) the amount of cooling water the youngest will drink will help her to replace vital lost fluids, and 

3) it's what I fancy to eat. 

I always knew that City and Guilds Floristry would come in handy one day.  


I think if you were of a nervous disposition, then yep, it'd definitely be on the cards it's just a matter of what got you first; the traffic, standard of driving, time everything takes, dealing with bureaucracy, dismemberment of family members. One of 'em will do it! 

We always knew you were a man of many talents but.... but..... but.... more info please. Preferably with a copy of your certificate as the Institute of Floristry takes membership fraud very seriously

You did indeed. Not needed on this one, but there'll be something in the corner when we move next year.

With a spot of car salesman, horse box builder, barman, taxi driver, wagon driver and transport manager in between!

In a desperate attempt to keep some motors in the thread, I was out with No.1 pup this morning and came across this...



Which was obviously something at one point, but is now something different. Or the same as before just missing a bit. Or something.

The one thing the pic doesn't show clearly though, is an inexplicable mod that's been carried out. A caravan tap, like this, although not as fancy...



slap bang in the middle of the roof.



Answers on a postcard please, to the usual address.

Well as you have already told us about the limited vertical proportions of the local populous I reckon it's for cleaning the roof. Not sure how they'd reach to turn it on mind, maybe it's a work in progress like the back end.

From our Sports Correspondent.

It’s 4am, I’m on the third mug of morning tea, the streets still dark and quiet. The doorbell rings. Don’t be alarmed, it’s only my Little Bottle Openers who were in Tondo last night, calling to pick up their running numbers, as they forgot to take them.

For today is the day of the world famous Malate Catholic School 5k Fun Run (“Focusing on Raising the Spirit of the Individual” – whatever that means, sounds more like a bloody séance). The run is due to start at 5am sharp so, after hitting up the fridge for a couple of last-minute chocolates, my Little Darlin’s bid me farewell again.

It is 04.30 when the inevitable PA system is cranked into life, shattering the silence. It is, I assume by the sound of things, manned by a woman but, upon closer inspection, it is actually a man who seems to have borrowed his wife’s voice for the morning. Unfortunately, the one he’s got is the same as she used whilst giving birth to their tenth child, after a particularly long and arduous labour. Strange. Anyway, we know he is now going to screech until he either dies or a long prayed for power cut silences him.

Time passes and a crowd of around 250-300 children are now milling aimlessly around the start line. We know it’s the start line as the banner says FINISH* in large letters. I peer through the binoculars, trying to spot my two, but when you are looking for a pair of long black haired Filipinas in a sea of long black haired Filipinas, all wearing the same shirts, you soon realise this is an enterprise doomed to fail.

The TV crews are there doing interviews. This is going to knock, “Dead Drug Dealer Found Under Bush” off the headlines for a change. A pair of nuns stand in front of a camera and judging by the way they are dressed, they aren’t participating. After all, why bother when you have a few hundred kids to do it for you? No doubt they are talking about donations as it’s a favourite topic of the church here, and I’m guessing their vestments have large pockets for any spontaneous bundles of money coming their way. It’s a good habit to have. 

Some of the kids are obviously taking this seriously, jogging up and down the road below and generally warning up for the event. I’ve got to admit, my two have been upping the calorie intake of late as preparation and are no doubt, at this point, in the Mini-Stop around the corner having a last pre-run snack. It’s struck me that as far as I’m aware, they’ve never even walked 5k in one go, let alone run it, so I’m not expecting any Zátopek-like times. I am however, expecting every 7-11 they pass en-route to have a quick blip in their takings.

The Headmistress takes over the microphone in an attempt to whip up some enthusiasm and, having failed, hands over to a priest who gives the whole fund raising enterprise his blessing. The National Anthem is played and, at precisely 5.28, the run is started with a 3-2-1 countdown. Around fifty of the kids are off and away before the starter gets his gun to fire. Good job he’s not having a shoot-out with the police.

As the entrants disappear around a corner we expect a little bout of silence but no, the man with his wife’s voice is still talking. What on earth about?

The imagination takes over.

“And any moment now, we’ll be receiving a live feed from our Drone-cam operated by Mr. Sanchez who has kindly given up a morning’s rubbish sorting up Tondo to bring us a new dimension to the run.

“Ah and here it comes now, let me talk you through what we are seeing. Good God, she’s taking her bra off, what a pair of maganda susu…Ahem, Mr. Sanchez, you’re supposed to be following the runners, not peering through hotel bedroom windows. Sorry folks, a little technical glitch there, I’m sure normal service will resume shortly.

“What’s that Mr. Sanchez, there won’t be any more feeds?... Why?...You’ve done what?...You’ve just sold the school drone to a passing Korean tourist for a hundred peso?...No, I don’t know where the cheapest Red Horse is around here.”

It’s now 6.30 and the first runners have started to arrive back. Man with a Mike goes apoplectic with excitement. Kids continue to trickle in for the next two hours or so and even our commentator can’t keep up this level of intensity, but he soldiers manfully on, unfortunately.

Now, the run having finished, there should a distribution of free Fun Run Backpacks and a raffle. There’s a tear off portion on the run numbers to facilitate this but, it has struck me that I’ve not actually seen one kid wearing a number. I know mine aren’t, as the very things they called in to pick up earlier sit unloved and forgotten (again) on their bed. Heads will no doubt roll as the raffle serves one purpose only. That of keeping people there in a final opportunity to gouge money out of parents. “See that one? The scruffy one walking past over there. Yes, the one with no teeth and five children, pretending to be homeless. He’s got a least two coins, I heard them chink together earlier. Go get ‘em!”

It’s now I notice something else. There are no parents and all the kids are leaving on foot. For mine that’s no problem, we’re only five minutes’ walk away, but I know that children are bussed in from far and wide of a morning, up to 40km some of them. The only explanation therefore is that the parents, knowing what’s coming, have all parked out of sight of school. Can’t say I blame them. It’s only been a couple of weeks since they’ll have been hit hard at the Parents Picking up Report Cards Morning, they’ll need time for finances to recover.

It’s now 08.30 and my eldest has just walked through the door. It took her two and a half hours to cover the distance, but she does look incredibly well fed. Apparently, she’s going for a, “..little lie down”. Good job she’s got twelve months to recover.

And t’other one? I’ve just watched her go into the Mini-Stop across the road. No doubt for a little post-run chicken rice. Bless her.

Oh, and no free backpacks either.

*They were taking the FINISH sign down later and on the other side was START. So they started from the finish side, and finished through the starting one! How hard can it be?