Friday night and feeling gloomy with the thought of the first of 4 English camps tomorrow. Up at 5:30 and a ride to Satun on the Andaman side of the long, thin bit at the bottom of Thailand. I think everyone is feeling pretty similar. Especially sad because most of us know that Shaz (the artist) is going to be sacked after he has done the camps. Yes, the bosses will get him to do the hard work before they put the knife in. I guess that language is the same the world over. I was resolute that I would not let the camps interfer with my downtime, so I bought 4 cans of black to help me relax.
Tom and I exchanged sms's today about the Happy Time Camp with the line up of white monkeys for the Kids to gawp at. Yes, it really is like that. I think these kids are poor though. It's always much worse when its a herd of white, chinky-chonk spoilt brats in front of you, who are substantially richer than the entire families of every white monkey on stage put together. Those camps are yet to come.
Last time we were herded onto the stage, we looked like a bunch of convicts on death row. I kid you not. Let's face it, a lot of teachers are kicking around at the bottom end of humanity; ex-junkies, alchoholics, tattoos, pock-marked faces, beer bellies - it's all there, in the latest stupid bright pink polo shirt with a logo of a bee on it. Half of them clear off to the back of the stage for a smoke break while the kids are handed party balloons. All rather seedy. But considering English camps are lumped onto the end of the contract, if you even have one, no one gives a fuck. Except for the tug of war.
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