People say that eventually you turn into your parents. My dad tends to sniff a lot before blowing his nose with gusto. He then pinches his nose with his fingers to take away the snotty residue. I have started doing this. I don't know why. Its disgusting. He also tells white lies to get people off his back. Not in a bad way. I'll give you an example. A few years back, dad was playing a gig in Blackburn. There is a break in the set and he's stood at the bar. Some lady comes up to him and tries to chat him up. She asks him what he does for a living. Dad says he just got out of prison. She left sharpish.
When I was in my teenage years, I didn't really see eye to eye with him but his various nuances and hearing of what he was like when he was my age from his childhood friends makes me want to spend more time with him when I get back. Being away from home for such a long time has made me realise that perhaps psychologically we have a lot more in common than I previously thought.
Sat outside my room, some Balinese guy starts talking to me. He eventually hauls out a bunch of art and asks if I want to buy anything. He was a nice guy but in my opinion his art was s***. I was in a quandary over telling him that I didn't want anything or parting cash for something that I really didn't like. I told him that I'd take one piece and gave him about 4 quid and told him to come back tomorrow when I'd give him some more cash. He could keep the painting until i gave him the rest of the funds. I'm not going to be here tomorrow. I'm going to the Gili Islands. So do I feel good for giving him money for the supposed set up of his shop next year or do I feel like a lying b****** for stringing him along?
The sun is literally setting on my time in Bali. The weather has not been fantastic and I am eager to return home a colour that will incite racial remarks from locals. The surf has been disappointing and I had no desire to get wet this morning. I have met no one apart from the aforementioned Balinese artist and a hairdresser who might also be a prostitute who keeps trying to chat me up. Kuta's glut of tourism doesn't interest me. The party scene here seems largely inaccessible given its ginormous scale and my inability to meet people. Beautiful women out of my reach and a mournful anniversary have done nothing but depress me. Perhaps Ubud would be a refreshing change but that can wait for another time. I am all too aware that my time of no worries and frivolous indecision is coming to a close. Going back to KL for family dinners and drinks, a haircut and possibly a visit to the Black Cat, then meeting my good friend and partner in crime in Chang Mai will be fun but will also add confirmation to the end of my gallivanting with a rucksack. Prospects at home look bleak but I'm going to try and go out with a f***ing massive bang. Two weeks left and counting. Mike, if all goes to plan then I'll see you on an elephant in about 10 days. We will discuss our current state of affairs, put the world to rights, eat and be merry. One day we will be kings. For now we will be rich peasants with a healthy appetite for destruction, based on the idea that destruction can be creative. I'll be in touch. The rest of you. See you some other time. Well, probably in about 2 weeks. Or maybe next year.

*****

Ok, so I didn't make it to the Gili Islands. I went for 1 beer last night and it turned into a few. I got chatting to the Indonesian guys who were running the bar. I bought them a beer each and they made me a banana pancake. Banana Pan Char Kay. I got up at midday instead of the intended 7am. Now I'm trying to hide from the artist guy. I hope I don't get spotted. I'll feel awful.