Smiles
June 17th, 2019, 12:16
Some call it boredom, some call it observation, some call it heaven.
But whatever you want to call it, it's part of my life, and has been for seven or eight years now: once a week, with hardly a miss I go down to Hua Hin Beach. Alone almost always, I'd rather have it that way ... good for inner contemplation of a thousand things, talking to one's self is a luxury, and comical when one's looks over at one's neighbour-under-the brolly who is peering at me after some time. My lips hardly move by the way so they have to look quickly.
On the beach I bring a small pillow as the wooden chair struts are quite difficult to abide after a while. And my tablet, with 100 books swimming around in the memory pool always come along for the ride. (Right now I'm deeply into 'The Guns of August' which frankly I should have done 40 years ago, but didn't. It's a long ~~ almost intimidating ~~ and grand book and Tuchman's elegant prose is hard to beat).
I bring my phone in case Pot gets into an accident and ends up in hospital or jail. Sunglasses (for protection as well as leering unforeseen the large gaggle of handsome Thai Guys who strut along the beach, in front of me, bulges in front and bubble butts going past, a-plenty. I salute them all) money, charger, reading glasses, my camera for the unexpected photo ops in this post. I'm in there for hours: downing Som Tum, perhaps Pad Thai, definitely large bottles of Leo.
And yesterday, the clouds came out of nowhere and a downpour ensued but scuttled away as quietly as it arrived. Being under a few umbrellas was not good enough so all the delicate items were dumped unceremoniously into a plastic bag. I was left with just myself and the rains, starting to drip from my nose. The staff pulled out more plastic covers which were strung up under the main umbrellas, and as I was now alone I looked up and found a rigmarole of colour which I could only think of as a Kandinsky.
8961
Love the wire struts holding the umbrella up. The blue umbrella folding itself up.
8962
8963
And then Kandinsky left the field, and another giant came sloshing in ...
But before the rain started there were warnings galore, though the poor sods unprepared took note and ignored it. This is the start of rainy season in this neck of the woods. Right now they are not every day encumbrances, but they will be soon.
I had already watched the giant cauliflower of rain-filled dark dirty-white by now, ready to drop the load ... they were miles still out to sea but getting closer.
But what I really was intrigued about on this particular afternoon, in this place, at this time with these great clouds above was that I had seen this nature before: in the stately Victoria and Albert Museum in London, around 30-35 years ago, which housed many great artists including John Constable. And John Constable ~ among many themes ~ inundated himself with his love of cloud formations. He painted hundreds of them.
This cloud was the start of Le Deluge. Slowly at first, but the bottoms became blackish and you could see the rain showers dropping everything far out in the gulf. Coming this way.
8964
And Constable saw it as well, sitting on my shoulder. His painting is much more angry than the photo, but neither has yet touched down ... and once it was my camera was under wraps.
8965
------------------------------------------------------------
Closing in now. Tourists-under-umbrellas are leaving quickly, heaven forbid that they should get a drop on their noggins. The last person to stay hunkered down in my conclave was a middle aged Thai lady listening to her Bluetooth. Her back to the sea ~ and Mr Constable ~ bouncing her head to the music.
I was cloud-watching.
8966
I loved the funnel of light in my photo, dropping from a dark area in the cloud.
8967
And voila, Constable's funnel is there as well on close to the same degree. I like his much better.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
And then sun. The blue scrubbed away ~ in bits and drabs ~ the grey/white of the monsters, and Hua Hin went back to normal, i.e. my som tum and beloved beer.
8968
Constable went back to his wonderful paintings and a pint in the local with his rival, Turner.
How much is an "off" these days they asked me?
But whatever you want to call it, it's part of my life, and has been for seven or eight years now: once a week, with hardly a miss I go down to Hua Hin Beach. Alone almost always, I'd rather have it that way ... good for inner contemplation of a thousand things, talking to one's self is a luxury, and comical when one's looks over at one's neighbour-under-the brolly who is peering at me after some time. My lips hardly move by the way so they have to look quickly.
On the beach I bring a small pillow as the wooden chair struts are quite difficult to abide after a while. And my tablet, with 100 books swimming around in the memory pool always come along for the ride. (Right now I'm deeply into 'The Guns of August' which frankly I should have done 40 years ago, but didn't. It's a long ~~ almost intimidating ~~ and grand book and Tuchman's elegant prose is hard to beat).
I bring my phone in case Pot gets into an accident and ends up in hospital or jail. Sunglasses (for protection as well as leering unforeseen the large gaggle of handsome Thai Guys who strut along the beach, in front of me, bulges in front and bubble butts going past, a-plenty. I salute them all) money, charger, reading glasses, my camera for the unexpected photo ops in this post. I'm in there for hours: downing Som Tum, perhaps Pad Thai, definitely large bottles of Leo.
And yesterday, the clouds came out of nowhere and a downpour ensued but scuttled away as quietly as it arrived. Being under a few umbrellas was not good enough so all the delicate items were dumped unceremoniously into a plastic bag. I was left with just myself and the rains, starting to drip from my nose. The staff pulled out more plastic covers which were strung up under the main umbrellas, and as I was now alone I looked up and found a rigmarole of colour which I could only think of as a Kandinsky.
8961
Love the wire struts holding the umbrella up. The blue umbrella folding itself up.
8962
8963
And then Kandinsky left the field, and another giant came sloshing in ...
But before the rain started there were warnings galore, though the poor sods unprepared took note and ignored it. This is the start of rainy season in this neck of the woods. Right now they are not every day encumbrances, but they will be soon.
I had already watched the giant cauliflower of rain-filled dark dirty-white by now, ready to drop the load ... they were miles still out to sea but getting closer.
But what I really was intrigued about on this particular afternoon, in this place, at this time with these great clouds above was that I had seen this nature before: in the stately Victoria and Albert Museum in London, around 30-35 years ago, which housed many great artists including John Constable. And John Constable ~ among many themes ~ inundated himself with his love of cloud formations. He painted hundreds of them.
This cloud was the start of Le Deluge. Slowly at first, but the bottoms became blackish and you could see the rain showers dropping everything far out in the gulf. Coming this way.
8964
And Constable saw it as well, sitting on my shoulder. His painting is much more angry than the photo, but neither has yet touched down ... and once it was my camera was under wraps.
8965
------------------------------------------------------------
Closing in now. Tourists-under-umbrellas are leaving quickly, heaven forbid that they should get a drop on their noggins. The last person to stay hunkered down in my conclave was a middle aged Thai lady listening to her Bluetooth. Her back to the sea ~ and Mr Constable ~ bouncing her head to the music.
I was cloud-watching.
8966
I loved the funnel of light in my photo, dropping from a dark area in the cloud.
8967
And voila, Constable's funnel is there as well on close to the same degree. I like his much better.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
And then sun. The blue scrubbed away ~ in bits and drabs ~ the grey/white of the monsters, and Hua Hin went back to normal, i.e. my som tum and beloved beer.
8968
Constable went back to his wonderful paintings and a pint in the local with his rival, Turner.
How much is an "off" these days they asked me?