Forget the river trip, have a banana cupcake instead

Maiyuu's banana cupcakes

As the rain belted down this afternoon, Maiyuu occupied himself by baking a batch of banana cupcakes.

Just a couple of hours before, I was thinking of taking a day trip on a ferry down the river. I am pleased I let Maiyuu talk me out of that.

I am not really a go-places type. Neither of us are; we’d rather muck around at home.

At his request, I test-tasted one cupcake, breaking a self-imposed fast which I observe every day from lunch until 6pm.

I have not stopped eating particular types of food – I just don’t eat for six hours a day. Or if I must eat during those hours, I steal a tiny bit – mainly just fruit.

So far it appears to have made no difference at all to my weight, but I don’t care. I feel virtuous, so it’s good for my state of mind, if not for my stomach line.

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Maiyuu spent most of yesterday in town, looking for baking ingredients. He visited Sampeng market, and a supermarket which stocks imported ingredients for baking.

Later, he asked me to look up corn syrup and glucose syrup on the internet, to see how they differ.

Contrary to what I posted here earlier (this is amended text), he is able to find corn syrup and glucose syrup in town, even though they are not common. However, citric acid was a trickier find. Pectin powder, a citrus-based stabilising agent used in jellies and jams, he couldn't find at all.

'Staff at a couple of places told me that Thais don’t use them, so they don’t bother keeping them in stock,’ said Maiyuu.

‘Most Thais don’t know what these things are.’

Thai riddle in a box

Our savings box now has a lock.

I found the box with lock attached when I woke this morning.

The last time I saw the box, which sits on a top shelf in my bedroom, it was just a plain box with flip-top lid.

This morning I noticed the glint of metal coming off the thing.

I took a closer look. While I was at work last night, Maiyuu went out and bought a small attachable lock.

He screwed it on to the box, and padlocked it shut. This is to ensure the B2,000 we have saved stays there, even when our other money is running out.

I get paid twice a month. Close to pay day last week, as money was getting scarce, I happened to look in the savings box, and noticed Maiyuu had removed the B2,000, for ‘safekeeping’ in his room.

This was the second time he had done this - the most recent time was just before my previous pay day.

He was hiding the savings from me, just in case I was tempted to dip into the box to use that money to tide us over. If the money goes on general expenses, it might be hard to replace.

Actually, I didn’t need it; in the end, we had enough.

On pay day, after money had come out, I insisted he return the money to the box. He obliged. Two days later, however, I see he has now found a more permanent solution.

He won’t need to hide the money from me any longer, whenever pay day approaches, as the box is locked, and he has hidden the key.

I shake the box, in the hope of hearing the sound of money (two B1,000 notes) rattling about inside.

I can't hear anything; I'm not sure it's there.

Maybe it's all a giant con; he removed the money before locking the box, but led me to believe the cash is still inside.

Maybe he has decided to hold on to the money himself anyway. He's just hoping I won’t notice that I'm custodian of an empty box.

Self-healing computer

My computer is working again. Thank you to those readers who left messages or emailed with advice on how to fix it. In the end, it repaired itself. For two days, the VDU refused to display. However, last night it came back to life.

The screen lit up. A message also appeared, in which the computer told me that it had noticed I was having problems getting started. It told me to sit patiently while it repaired itself. That took another couple of minutes.

I like computers which repair themselves. Maiyuu had found a repairman who visits at home, and was on the verge of calling him. I asked Maiyuu to wait, and turned on the computer one last time, just to see what would happen.

My HP rewarded me for my patience by diagnosing and repairing itself. Maybe it was missing me.

Well done, my little HP. I’ll hang on to you for a while yet.

The farang nester: No, Thais don't need more houses

My computer has developed VDU problems.

This blog post, which I am writing on boyfriend Maiyuu’s machine, may look terse. I am having trouble getting used to his keyboard, the mad angle at which his VDU is tilted in relation to the desk…

I have taken some terrific pictures of dishes he has made over the past couple of days – including a Thai delicacy based on an old recipe which is virtually unique to the province where he was raised – but they will have to wait until my own computer is repaired.

Brief description? The VDU will not display. Occasionally it flashes small, alternating messages on the top left: ‘Analogue…Digital’…

It also tells me to check my signal cable, which of course I have done.

Last night I Googled the problem: ‘HP computer, VDU won’t display’…

I found instances of other HP computer owners reporting the same VDU woe, but the circumstances were different, and the cure too techy-sounding for me.

Maiyuu will look for a computer repairman who fixes computers at the customer's home. I am tired of lugging the hard-drive into town; let him come here.

The last repair guy who came to our home to repair my computer charged a flat B1,000, which is reasonable. However, his swag-bag of fixes to computer ills was light. ‘Reboot…reboot!’

Most problems do not require such a drastic solution, but for many Thai technicians, it is the first one which presents itself. I wonder why?

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'I am in love with a Thai guy….we have just met, but I want to buy him a house.’ I read that somewhere.

The sheltering instinct among farang must be strong. We want to protect, provide for the ones we love.

Yet a house?

We don’t yet know what the Thai expects of us. He has his own friends and family, his own life.

We assume he expects the same things, but it may not be true. Never mind, the farang thinks: Few sensible boys would say no to their own home, especially when the person buying it visits only occasionally.

Status! Freedom!

Yet is it really necessary to invest so heavily in the relationship?

The farang should ask himself why he wants to buy a house for someone he barely knows. It could be any of the following:

1. For his own convenience (somewhere to stay)

2. To provide

2. To ensure the BF's loyalty

Most farang know what they can expect of relationships in the West. We don’t buy a house for a guy as soon as we have met him.

Perhaps because we do not understand Thais as well as we do fellow farang, love in the Land of Smiles holds out more hope. Surely the same rules do not apply?

And even if they do – if I just throw a house at the problem, maybe everything will sort itself out?

Crepe diet-buster, pean to pea sprouts, English awfulisms

Yes, I know...something about me being on a diet.

I recall mentioning it, and in fact yesterday made a dedicated effort to eat less.

Normally, like Thais, I graze. I could probably do with less grazing, I thought, if I really want to cut weight.

So, out goes afternoon grazing. I allow myself a reasonable meal in the morning. Then I go for exercise. After that, I eat tiny amounts until evening when I leave for work.

At work, I eat two proper meals, and then have another when I get home – but I excuse that eating, as I am using my brain at that hour and need the food for energy.

Boyfriend Maiyuu made the dish you see above for dinner. Being a good dieter, I ate the crepes.

I saved the other portion (which you can't see above), minced pork and basil leaf served on rice, for breakfast this morning.

Okay, now for the crepes: They are home-made, as is the salad stuffing inside. The stuffing was made from pea sprouts, carrot, spicy Chinese sausage, and avocado. Maiyuu drizzled a sauce on top, made of mayonnaise, lemon, sugar, spring onion and olive oil.

In Thai, ‘pea sprouts’ go by the beautiful name tor meiow (โต้วเหมี่ยว). The first time I heard Maiyuu say it, I had to ask him to repeat it, as I had not heard it before. He fished the container from the fridge. In Thai writing, the words look as pretty as they sound.

I looked it up on the net. The Thai author of this (link harvested - it died) illustrated webboard post agrees: it is indeed a snazzy name for a salad vegetable (ผักชื่อเก๋ โต้วเหมี่ยว).

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Dieting plays around with the head. My body knows I am playing tricks, and not feeding it enough.

When I arrived at work last night, I was so hungry I felt frantic. I bought kaow pad naem (ข้าวผัดแหนม – fried rice with fermented sausage) from a corner shop.

It tasted so much better, after hours of eating virtually nothing.

Last night I fancied my appetite was contracting, if not my stomach. How long does it take for the stomach bag to start shrinking, if you regularly deprive it of its usual fill?

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‘I feel annoyed. Very annoyed.’

This is a blog, not a style guide to the English language. However, I would like to sound off about those writers who insist on adopting silly melodramatic tricks such as the one above when they want to create emphasis.

In recent weeks, I have found this device in blogs, in messages at work, even in emails.

No one speaks in this constipated, immature manner, but they do adopt the device when they write. Can they think of no better way to express themselves?

Here’s another Illustration:

‘I feel very bad about this language device. Very bad.’

The writer must think we are stupid. He wants to create emphasis, but the only way he can think to do it is to repeat the 'very' in a new sentence – as if we were too dim to get it the first time.

What happened in between the first sentence and the second – or did he just forget the ‘very’ part the first time he wrote it?

Why not keep it simple?

‘I feel bad about this English device.’

Or, if you really must:

‘I feel very bad about this English device.’

How do you measure 'very’ anyway?

After that, of course, you can tell us why.