What is a 'Blog'? Apparently it is an abbreviation of Web Log. Right, that is that sorted then. So, this will be a log, on the web about the trials and tribulations I am finding in my transition from disaffected City boy to travelling bohemian in deepest darkest Kampuchea.
If you know me, (and if you don't why the hell are you reading a quite tedious account of some random bloke you have happened upon on the Internet? Do something better for goodness sake, take a long walk, read something from a proper author, go to sleep, look up some porn - the whole Internet is at your fingertips!!) Anyway, I digress, if you know me, then you will know I love about 3 things, Fulham FC, Travelling and Michaela. Not necessarily in that order of course.
The expat community often find themselves talking abut what it is we miss most about ol'Blighty. Mine is easy, the obvious of course, family, friends, real Curry. But the only thing I yearn for is Saturday. Of course they have Saturdays here in Phnom Penh, but it isn't the same.
I miss awaking on Saturday morning, head throbbing from too many pints of Fosters (with tops of course - takes off the edge), and heading into Old Leigh to pick up a pint of cockles and a Ham Roll. I miss getting on the train in fevered anticipation of what was about to happen. I miss panicking like a maniac as the District Line rumbles haltingly from Tower Hill to Parsons Green. I miss alighting at the ramshackle station, and confusing all the foreign football tourists who think this is the place to get off for FFC. Then of course the Fest. Paulaner, the extra beer I make my Dad, Michaela and I drink before we head off with 17 minutes to go before kick off. I miss having to take the correct route, because once we went down Ringmer Avenue and we lost. To Hull, I think 1-0. That twat Phil Brown ran onto the pitch like he'd just won the world cup. We have to go down the aptly named Burnfoot Avenue.
I miss arriving at the Cottage about 1 minute before kick off and find our seats upsetting all and sundry. I miss watching a Roy Hodgson team dominate the opposition for long spells but fail to make it count until late on. I miss the outpouring of anger caused by the strange combination of strong German Beer and an unyielding desire to see 11 incredibly wealthy thickos overcome another group of 11 ridiculously (and probably more) wealthy thickos. Why do I care so much? It is hard to explain, but care I do, and I miss Michaela telling me to calm down and that I embarrassing myself. I miss having to apologise for the sheer quantity of spittle which finds its way on to the poor fellow who sits in front of me's neck. (I don't miss that too much actually, it's rather embarrassing.)
Saturday! Hopefully culminating in a curry from Bombay Spice with an extra chilli laden Jalfrezi.
So, in summation that is what I miss, you didn't ask and you don't probably care, but if you have made it this far, then you probably want closure. Having been here 3 months now, that is the extent of what I really miss. Skype makes it very easy to stay in touch with family, and loads of people will probably come out to visit anyway.
So this blog is going to be about how I cope in moving away from all I know, and my challenge to find gainful, paid employment by the turn of the year. A goal looking increasingly unlikely....
For the record, Phnom Penh is a truly wonderful City, and Cambodia is indeed the Kingdom of Wonder. If all, I miss is getting pissed watching football on a Saturday in London, then it is going very very well......
