Introduction:

The English winter. It is the worst of times. It is a time for all sensible beings to sleep or to migrate. It is a time when the only sound more depressing than the dull roar of the oil-fired central heating is the absolute silence when it fails. It is a time when, not content with being miserably cold, it stubbornly refuses to remain cold enough for anything but wet, slushy, dirty-grey snow. It is a time when the sun despite, theoretically, being allowed to shine for about seven hours a day, reluctantly hesitates and withdraws its pallid disc behind a shroud of low watery cloud.

It was with these thoughts in mind that I decided to flee from the country of my birth and find somewhere less conducive to bronchitic coughs and pneumonia.

I happened on Phuket by chance. I was about to visit my son and his family in Sydney when a good friend suggested I stop off at Phuket because his boat was currently moored there,

A further lucky stroke found me in Bangtao Beach where I was made very welcome at “The Sunshine Coffee Bar”.

Now all the stories in this book have one thing in common. I wrote them in Bangtao. They are all more or less true. Some more so and some considerably less so.

In order to save embarrassment I have changed some of the names of the participants.

The notable exception to this is Khun Aor who runs “The Sunshine Coffee Bar”. She has been my light and my inspiration. Without her wit, pragmatism and advice not only would these stories not have been written but I doubt I could have found a way to sensibly stay here in Bangtao.

So Khun Aor thank you for all your help.


Footnote: What is a story about an English late eighteenth century naval hero doing here in this collection? You might ask. I suggest you take a trip down to Phrom Thep at the southern tip of Phuket to find out.