Not all beer and skittles

June 14, 2017

So have I landed the best job in the world? Well, no, obviously, because it’s a job, which, despite the self-serving strictures of our capitalist overlords, is fundamentally inimical to human happiness. And I’m not a photographer for Playboy, head of product testing for Gibson Guitars, chief taster for Macallan whisky, or a coriander farmer in Tahiti.

But it’s not too bad, considering. Me and Harley the Wonder Dog walked along the stream through our sylvan glades to work this morning. I installed myself in a corner of the camp’s reception area, fired up Bach’s Mass in B Minor on the excellent stereo, and got down to crafting some pieces on how great things are here.

Every so often I pop outside to be confronted by the vast bulk of the 20,000 ft Stok Kangri Massif on the other side of the Indus Valley, dark and brooding and snow-capped, with the insanely vivid blue of the sky above, the green of the poplars along the river etching the view below. Citrine wagtails and orange-crested hoopoes flit through the glass-clear air and butterflies wobble past. The temperature is about perfect.

But there are downsides. Chief amongst them, for me, are the vagaries of the internet. We only seem to get a couple of hours of connection a day, at unpredictable times: it came on at 2340hrs last night, after being off for 12 hours. So I had to get up and start firing off emails. [And it’s just come back on after being off four five days.]

And I could only do that because the power was on, which is an intermittent affair at best. Often, when the internet is on, the power is off, or vice versa. As my job involves writing, emailing, fact-checking and research, and fine-tuning copy, the lack of an internet connection is a major drawback. I’d be working right now if the internet was on, and you’d be spared this, so, you see, it affects all of us.

Also, the dogs. Ladakh is home to packs of vicious and degraded mongrels, who seem to regard Harley-Ji as a potential luscious and glossy hors d’oeuvre. He was attacked by a vast scruffy hound the other day, and bled copiously from the ear for some time afterwards. So I carry a big stick and walk around with potential death in my heart, which feels a little negative while I’m being overlooked by a holy Buddhist monastery full of vegetarians who worship all life. But I would quite cheerfully kill any beast that threatens my little canine pal, and wouldn’t care in the slightest.

And … er … that’s about it. There’s a distinct lack of Yorkshire puddings and cheeseburgers, rather too much of the old dal and chapattis, very little beer, and the guy who irons my shirts seems resistant to my charms and takes a day too long to get them back to me.

And what’s that sound I hear? It sounds like it might be coming from the world’s tiniest violin.

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2 Responses to “Not all beer and skittles”

  1. JW said

    The scenery looks truly breathtaking. Enjoy living life at the pace it is meant to be!

  2. David Hayhurst said

    Well, you certainly seem to enjoy changing up your life every few years, that’s for certain. I don’t recall you ever actually blogging as to what your new job was. What are you doing? And man, if there is one thing i do NOT miss about living in Asia, it’s the packs of vicious, feral dogs. Even downtown Taipei had packs of them running amok when I lived there. I remember stumbling alone one night from the beach back to my bungalow – can’t recall if Philippines or Thailand – along a badly lit pathway, and suddenly hearing growling and snarling in the undergrowth. Fortunately there were a few rocks and bottles around.

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