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This Blog is a personal record and an honest illustration of my life as a full time embroidery artist. I hope that you find it entertaining and inspiring.

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Friday, 3 December 2010


Clanking heavy machinery, humming air con, clicking heels, memories, plans, Chang beer, Pad Thai, swirling medallions, white teeth, small fish, brown toes, MASSAGE? 

Oh no ... I knew this would happen.

I cant sleep.

I cant sleep.

'Please can I have a quiet room?  I have to be up at 4am and really need to get some sleep.'

'This is Bangkok ... theres no such thing as quiet sunshine.'

This is Bangkok.  Busy busy loud and hectic.  Fantastic traffic, fumes and pineapple slices.  
This is Bangkok. White men and too young for them mindless Thai girls with eyelash extensions.  

This is Bangkok... cheap cheap.

Crazy days.  
Lovely people.  
Buddhist kindness.  
Feeling safe and strangely excepting of the rats on the pavements.  

All part of the package.

I treated myself to a foot massage in my great early night last grand relaxing evening in BK plan.  Foot Massage, Pad Thai and two Changs.  Shower and sleep for 6 hours before grabbing a taxi for the airport.

It was fantastic.... Nong had the hands of Muhammad Ali crossed with Florence Nightingale.  Bliss ... foot massage in Thailand... when you find a good one.... its the business.
I sat there being pulped and prodded with Thai reflexology sticks and chatted with the manager as I watched her get ready for an evening with her husband. 
Thai women are generally beautiful.  
With the precision and care of a first date, she straightened her beautiful black shiny hair piece by piece, used parcel tape to remove every dot of dust and stray strand from her small clinging black dress.  As she expertly applied her makeup and powder she told me that she was going out for dinner.  Her husband, fresh off the plane was arriving to take her out.  She explained that he was Spanish and they were going to the river for a romantic meal.  I told her he must be a very special man having such a beautiful date and it made me feel romantic watching her.  When she proudly presented herself, I was slightly in awe and she asked me to help her choose which shoes she would wear.  She looked like a supermodel.

There was a bit of excitement in the room and Thai chatter.

The girls in the salon winked at me and pointed outside at the husband who had arrived.  I didn't have my glasses on and all I could see through the gaps in the shelves to my right, was a rotund blurred figure, pale from head to toe, smoking outside.  

She said Goodbye and walked out.  
Paris catwalk.


And there it was ...  I could have sworn he had a Manchester accent.

India tomorrow.  
Oh my goodness.

Lou yawned missing green lawns.

1 comment:

  1. Hi Louise,

    Call me a fellow stitch geek but I have just read your past posts. I feel sleep deprived its only 11pm here in Blighty but its been a long week and although I should be making like the clappers for my wee sale I just got my nose stuck in your blog and well, laughed out loud several times quite frankly (The bug and poo story mainly). Your trip and work are fabbety fabaroo. I have seen your work previously and after watching could old Allsop checked out the link from Ch4. So there we go and in case you thought errrrrrrr nerd alert I am a normal (Hmm cough cough) textiles teacher type from central blighty also trying to spread the word to the youth of today about the love of craft.
    Ciao and enjoy the last leg of your triparoo. :)



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