Thai mind-reader, flat heads and big ears, 50 words on my condo

I swear Thais can read minds. When I left the condo to catch a motorcycle down the road to the doctor's clinic, my motorcycle guy knew where I wanted to go.

'Doctor?' he asked.

'Yes. How did you know?' I replied.

'I have taken you before.'

This was not strictly true: the motorcycle guy drops me close to the place, usually on the other side of the highway.

Then I walk across a couple of overhead bridges to reach the clinic.

On the previous occasion, I might have asked him to take me a little closer, but still...

Last time I might have told him I was seeing a doctor, just for something to say. Yesterday I had uttered not a word.

Yet he knew.

At the moment I get a motorcycle guy virtually daily. They drop me close to work, and I walk the rest of the way. Yesterday, how did he know that I wasn't just getting off for the walk to work, as I normally do?

The medical clinic, down a narrow soi inside a slum area, was busy.

The waiting room contained 10 people. In a small examination room off the doctor's office, I saw a woman stretched out with electrodes attached to her chest.

In the waiting room, I passed a curtained-off area where a middle-aged male patient was also on his back, being inspected by the sole doctor in the premises.

I know he was there, because I heard them muttering, and the patient's toes were poking out the curtains.

I told the two nurses that I had accidentally tossed away my fungal rash pills. Then I took a seat.

Seeing how many patients still had to go in before me, I changed my mind, and approached the desk again.

'Do I really need to see the doctor?' I asked.

No. They asked me which pills I wanted, and spooned them into small plastic bags. The bill was B120. I thanked them, and left.

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My post of yesterday complaining about the absent-mindedness of old age appears to have wound up some readers.

Some guys reach their 60s, and still go to the gym regularly. That's great. I run up the ramps of the condo carparking building for exercise. It takes just 15 minutes a day, but is enough, I tell myself, to keep my heart and lungs in good shape.

I don't care about the rest. I go through phases when I look at myself in the mirror and worry about my growing tummy, or the fact that I appear to be growing smaller, fatter, and wider with age.

Thankfully, I appear to be in no-worry phase at the moment. I can't remember the last time I examined myself critically in the mirror. Most of the time, I am trying to escape the heat.

I can't do much about the ageing process, which we all know is unflattering (well, those of us who are not 60 year-old gym-bunnies, that is).

I don't like the flat head, big, hairy-eared look which comes upon many men as they get older, but am pleased to see that it is not confined to foreigners. It happens to Thais, too.

I walk past my middle-aged colleagues at work and think to myself: 'You're a member of the flat-head, big-eared club!'

I walk past younger ones in the office (the youngest foreigners we have are probably in their early 30s), and tell myself: 'And you'll be there soon enough!'

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An Asian literary journal has asked me to write about life in Thailand.

They want to know about Thai life from the point of view of a foreigner, or even a Thai, as long as he writes in English.

I asked them to they give me a topic, as I can't write on spec.

'I can write about the inside of my condo,' I suggested.

What else is there to say, if you've been here too long as I have.

I live with Thais, in this fabulous land called Thailand, but spend most of my time thinking about the life I left behind - and this is on good days!