What we got up to and the village idiot

We spent a total of 3 weeks at Sun Smile, with a break just after Christmas to go to Malaysia's second city (Georgetown on the island of Penang) to get our Thai toursist visas.

We did take one day on a scooter around the island to check out all the other accomodation. There are about 25 resorts altogether. Even though there were some desirable places with lovely restaurants and great (expensive) food, nothing came close to Sun Smile value-wise - and especially because we had such a relatively wide, quiet stretch of beach - and great swimming at any time of day. Most places had poor quality accomodation and rocks on the beach and in the sea - one reason why Koh Jum has stayed a quiet island.

Anna spent her days working on her already impressive tan and scorching through books. I have been playing guitar and writing songs from eight in the morning until ten at night. It has easily been the most productive and constructive I have ever been musically. I can only hope you will get to hear the results at some point my dear readers. And we managed to get down to spending 700-800 baht per day with the odd extra beer or fruit thrown in. We got trim from sensible portions and plenty of frisbee and swimming and eventually we got to know the handful of staff at Sun Smile. Of course we had a few extra dishes at xmas and new year but it was pretty understated. Let's make that supremely understated. Chilled out does not come close.

Anyway, there was some other action. In Thailand it is 2552. The year, that is. You see they started with the enlightenment of Buddha - I think he probably stayed at Sun Smile a few thousand years ago or something. But also we were in the midst of National Children's Day and a week of happennings on the island. Well, actually we were oblivious to all of this (in a bubble watching a thousand sunsets from the blacony and marvelling at the subtle changes of colour between every day's dawn and dusk) - we were oblivious but for a bizarre chain of events.

We had taken the scooter around the island and I had seen one of the boatmen with very shiny new footy boots. In Tanglish I managed to ascertain that there was some action on the Ban Ting Rai village school field. This is the village behind our place mid-island and the school field we had found when lost earlier in the day. I thought I might get the chance for a kickabout. At dusk I left Anna at the ranch and scooted over.

There were a handful of stalls up and about 50 locals milling around. It turned out there was the big 7-a-side tournament going down between the island vilages. After I had chatted to a few players I settled into to a kick about with a bunch of 7 year olds, and then sat down to watch the action with a couple of Austrian guys. We watched as Ban Koh Jum firsts held Ban Ting Rai seconds to a goalless draw forcing penalties. Then I was distracted from the action as my rugby-loving Austrian chum pointed another team's manager towards me. They looked fit and organised and needed a player so I jumped at it. Though it tuned out I wasn't going to play for my local boys, Ban Ting rai. No, I was off to the knacker's yard with the slightly older and unkempt Koh Jum seconds. And they made play in a yellow Arsenal kit. I loved it of course. But after I had chatted to the lads, not understanding a word between us,of course, and using sign language (my body actually) to indicate that I would play in front our goalkeeper, I realised that there were now 150-200 people sat around the pitch in the dusk. Pretty much the whole of middle village.

And there was a commentator. With a big PA. In Thai of course. The game started OK. And I was the only Farang (foreigner). And when I approached the ball you could sense the pitch rise in his commentary. And the pitch was one third rocks, one third hard sand and one third shag-pile length grass. And then we conceded a soft opener. They cut us apart easily. The crowd got involved but I mostly noted them get louder at the comedy value of the token (lanky) honkey leaping to head clear or stooping to put a good headed chance over the bar from a corner.

And then I was 3 against 1 at the back. If you know where Jamie-Carragher-land is, then you will know where I was. As I backtracked the ball was passed in front of me from right to left and I had to use my (waning, possibly even long-forgotten) athleticism to scythe through the air to try to cut it out. I had lunged two footed, but in true Clagger style, leading with my right; the good foot. And I made contact. It was a miracle really. I was chuffed at my anticipation, reading of the flight, and reactions. For a stone cold hair's breath of a split second. For, as our goalkeeper was wrong footed, I had steered the ball passed him into the corner of the net.

Cheers from the home fans? No. Recriminations from the away fan or my teamates? No. Just infectious laughter. Cackling, bawling, screaming. The pitch was pretty high. The commentator was drowned out for a while before he joined in. The ref laughed at me. I turned and took a couple of bows to the crowd, smiling when I realised my teammates were not humiliated. The game restarted but the monstrous cackling didn't stop until we were 3-0 down and the crowd started to ebb away. In the second half I man marked their no.10, came close with a volley and we got a goal back. But I was already a legend in three villages. The village idiot. Long and white against the clouds of smoke from the noodle stalls. I would be recognised in the pitch black walking back after dropping off the scooter.

It was only later I realised that I had scored for my village team, Ban Ting Rai. Albeit while playing for the opposition!

Two nights later we went back to the field of dreams to see the local children's dance show. If only we had the photos of all those 4-9 year olds attempting choreography. We were in stitches. And the outfits were amazing. And there was some kareoke. And we found out that the Sun Smile boatman was called Mr. Dad. He invited us to sit on his family mat. Then we were joined by Sun Smile waitress, Mrs. Tuk. And it turned out they were married with two kids. They looked about 18. And that night, on the same field where I had embaressed the Queen only 48 hours earlier, all that was forgotten as we waited and then watched their gorgeous daughter dance in a wonderfully lacey fairy Princess dress. The girl next to her couldn't manage any of the moves and stared blankly at the PA for the whole 10 minutes, but the girl who calls Mr. Dad 'dad' knew every move. Especially the one where you hang your arms straight down and wiggle your hands behind you.