Tantara and tirra lirra. I'm smiling my best golden toothed smile because 'tis Bloomsday in Vientiane. I've swapped the Mekong for the Liffey and soon will be exchanging Beer Lao and sticky rice whiskey for Guinness and Jamesons: rejoycing by means of cross-cultural alcoholic translation.
Alas, I'm having trouble uploading photos so my very exciting shots of tanks and barren plains and vegetables will have to wait a day or two.
Anyway
- trixie
- My birth certificate attests to my debut on a Saturday in the middle of May, 1977. You can thus deduce that I am a bullish Taurean, that I was born in the Chinese year of the Snake, that my Burmese animal is the Dragon. This means that I am wont to bellow, hiss, and breathe fire, to stampede, slither and fly. Because my birth certificate was stamped by a bureaucrat in service to Her Majesty’s Government, I am a citizen of the United Kingdom. Because both of my parents were practicing Australians, I am also a citizen of Australia. I have thus two passports both of which inexplicably contain photographs of some random grumpy refugee from an eighties hair band. This means that I am constitutionally duplicitous: I can change my mode from imperial to colonial at will; I can embody, at turns, Old World Charm and New World Pizzazz; I can personify the staid and stagnant as readily as the arriviste and anxious. I do not hold, nor have I ever held, a driver’s licence, a boat licence, a gun licence, a forklift ticket or a motorcycle licence. This means that I have never, ever had to moderate my alcohol consumption for fear that I might have to operate heavy or dangerous machinery.
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