Breaking the slum mould

I called Ball from work, as I had not seen him during the day.

'What did you do today? How are you feeling?' I asked.

I had promised to call, after he complained about a lack of friends ('I don't know where my school and work friends have gone. My phone is silent all day,' he had told me).

‘I am fine, but rose late,' Ball said. 'Mum had found casual work for me with a lifting gang, but I couldn't go,' he added.

Ball said he was willing to go, but stayed up late the night before he was due to start, so missed his first day on the job.

‘They give everyone in the lifting gang B400, but I couldn’t get up in time,’ he said.

The gang started work at 9am. Someone had offered to pick him up, but he slept through instead.

Ball is young, and deserves his independence. Still, Mum is probably wondering when her son will get over his headstrong streak, and knuckle down to do some work.

Mum's partner, idle taxi driver Lort, sets a poor example. His vehicle rarely hits the road.

Lort claims he is also an underground money-lender to Thais in the slums who like to gamble in the hope of getting ahead in life.

'I know everyone around here, as they all need my money,' he told me. The other night, he dropped in for a quick nip at carer R's ya dong stand.

‘I like to have many business endeavours going,’ he said smugly.

Great, mate. Just leave Ball out of your shady money-making ventures, if you don’t mind; I don't want him turning into another one of you.