Get on with your pastry, then!

Making pastry can be a challenging business, judging by Maiyuu's failed attempts so far.

Maiyuu spent hours yesterday trying to roll pastry without making it split. Maybe I do him an injustice: he has made many pies in the past without problem.

He gave up the effort after two failed attempts, and left home to spend the night with whoever is entertaining him outside home these days.

-
A gay youngster hopped on the bus as I was heading to work. He had dyed his hair blond, and wore his black pants low, with a jacket, and low-rise T-shirt.

He shot me a gay look as he sat down - maybe out of habit, or to see if I was interested. A few moments into the journey, someone called him on the phone.

'I wanted to go to DJ Station or Or Tor Kor last night but I have a cold,' he told his friend, referring to those two well-known gay nightspots in Bangkok.

After the call, he stretched, showing me glimpses of his white underwear.

His apple eyes, shapely forehead, and square lips were all distinctively Thai. In a gay nightclub with 100 customers, he would be among the best 10 best-looking youngsters there.

We left the bus at the same place. He walked ahead. I was making my way to a noodle stand for something to eat before work, which is close to a bus stop, and a 7-11. He sat down at the bus stop.

After ordering my noodle, and leaving my bag at the foodstand, I wandered over to where my young man was sitting. He was on the telephone again.

I tapped him on the shoulder, interrupting his call. 'You are very pretty - did you know that?' I asked.

He smiled - and I returned to the noodle shop. By the time I had finished my noodle 10 minutes later, Mr Handsome Blond had left.

-

In the market, I visited a shop which serves pork off the bone and rice. I visit regularly, as I like one of the young men who serves me.

After the meal, a man in his 50s walked out before me. He had asked the family which runs the shop to give him B20, so he could call his daughter, who sells goods in the area.

They declined. As we left the shop, he was grumbling, so I gave him the money instead.

We talked, attracting strange looks from residents in the market.

My new friend is called Da Bua. He lives behind the shop where we had eaten moments before.

We walked back to his place, taking the scenic route. Outside his simple home, which sits in a small slum community, he introduced me to a neighbour in her early 50s and her teenage son.

I bought a bottle of lao khao, his favourite tipple. We found a place to sit, and he brought out a checkers-style board game called makhos (หมากฮอส).

We played, but I spent most of the next three hours talking to his neighbour, and her 14 year-old son.

'I have no family here, and would love to be part of someone else's family if you would let me,' I said.

I must have been feeling lonely.

Mum accepted me happily. Today I will go back to see them again.