Hooker Dilemma

A young mate recently visited me in the Algarve. Within two days he’d been with a hooker.
“Ah, you’d have done the same at my age” he said.
“Actually, and I’m not judging you, but I’m kinda too religious to consider all that stuff, and on a sexual level I couldn’t be attracted to a woman who fundamentally didn’t particularly want me”
But I actually did sleep with one once, and h...ere’s the story.
Thailand 1992
Had some brill Thai mates there, and at this party on Chaweng beach, I made the once in a lifetime mistake of drinking Mekon whiskey. I wont bore you with details but it is evil personified and apparently laced with embalming fluid.
So at the end of the night ‘Lolen’ was incapable, so my Thai mates bunged me into a taxi with a hooker friend of theirs, telling the girl that I’d look after her if she looked after me (I uncovered these details in retrospect and gave them hell, nah, I loved them really, they were always playing tricks on me)
Next morning I woke up with a hang-over I could have donated to medical science, and suddenly.. WTF!!! Clearly this was a prostitute in my bed..”OK, end of story” I’m thinking..”I’m dead, aids..slow and painful demise” and all.
Then I noticed that I was fully clothed, as was she.
My movement woke her. I didn’t hesitate to ask, such was my paranoia.
“Good morning nice to meet you, did we have sex last night?”
“No Lolen, you so dlunk, you wan now?”
Relief..
”No, I’m fine actually..um..”..
So the next plan in my haze was to get rid of her without hurting her feelings.
Ah,.. an idea entered my fevered brain...the guy in the bungalow next door was a Dutch flying instructor, who’s one and only reason for being in Thailand was whoring. His catch-phrase was “she very good looking”..He was a silly old fucker actually and got ripped off all over the place by the local girls, but I was in dire need of his expertise.
So I knocked on his door and asked him how I could respectfully dismiss my new playmate.
We walked out onto his balcony, by which time the Thai girl had wandered onto my balcony. He looked over at her.
“Why you not fuck her, she very good looking”
“Listen mate, if you could just answer my original question, I would be eternally grateful.”
“Well if you really don’t want her, give her a fair amount of money and say it’s for a taxi”
“How much would that be?”
He told me.
“Thank you very much mate, brill, you’ve been very helpful.” I shook his hand.
I went back and gave her the money.
“What this?” she said
“For taxi” said I
She digested this info at length and finally said
“You give me money for nothing”
“No, I give you money for taxi”
Another pregnant pause as she mulled this over..
“You good man Lolen, I clean your house.”
And with that she went to the broom cupboard and got out all the cleaning stuff etc.
And here’s the thing, she started singing at her work. Now Thai women’s voices are about an octave above those of western women to my ears. In other words she woke up the whole flippin neighbourhood, not to mention jacking up the pain in my head by several notches.
My landlord came by and gave me the thumbs-up, like, ‘good Thai woman Lolen’
Aw hell, I gave up…let people think what they want…all I wanted was to have many quiet moments alone with my hang-over.
So I staggered along the beach and collapsed in the first place I could find where there were no people.
She was gone when I got back, bless her, and the place was in far better shape than it had been for ages.See More

The Only Buddhist Nun in Greece

OK, we’re talking 1991.
I was out on the Greek island of Paros, looking for a gig or an adventure. Walking through the town square one day I saw this thing on the town notice board “Buddhist nun requires volunteers to help build a centre in Butterfly Valley” Well flippin hell, I had only recently been in a Buddhist Monastery in England where they’d sorted out my woes to great effect, and I had a vision of me going up to that place and giving her the biggest hug ever. Dunno why I thought that, cos you don’t normally hug nuns on the whole, but as it went she was a Kiwi Tibetan nun.
What a gal, ex political activist, karate black belt, had her own radio spot back in NZ. And she was also the only nun I ever heard swear.  “Some rich devotee left this place to the Dalai Lama and he sent me out here to build it up in the middle of the bush with only two fuckin cats for company”
But tough as she was, a bloke who spoke Greek and could hump a bag of cement was a great asset to her cos at the end of the day she was a yellow and maroon bedecked woman in a far off place.
And the beauty of it, I had her to myself for two weeks. And her personal late night dhamma talks were amazing, she had this kinda ‘stream of consciousness’ hypnotic style.
(By the way I was having an affair with a mad Greek woman back in town at the time, and I would nip back there occasionally as you do, and take in a football match and sink a few while I was at it, so I was pretty happy with life. Problem was this Greek gal was on the fringe of the local mafia and one or two of them had taken umbrage to laughing boy getting straight off the ferry and into her bed.)
But back to the nun. She had contacted all of her global allies to come and help her build the centre, but this involved transport from the centre to the port so she could meet them from the ferry. So here’s where I came in. I asked the local farmer to take us there and he said I’d have to work in his field all day to pay for the ride. Fuckin hell, bales of hay or what? Ow ar
The first one we picked up was a Brazilian Shiatsu masseuse from New York. What a gal again, she would walk into any space and pick up the vibe. Eventually she worked her magic on me and I swear she got me so relaxed that she left the room and I didn’t even notice.
The next one was a yoga teacher, American, flying in from India. This guy was the best teacher of yoga I have ever known and he taught me a personal programme that makes me feel a million dollars to this day, when I can be bothered, (I am a lazy f….er.)
But it was at the port café, waiting for this guy that I had a ‘moment’.
On one side of the café was the local mafia, clearly waiting for an opportunity to show me their feelings. However I was drinking tea with the most unusual and esoteric being that anyone had seen in those parts ever. I was protected, as I had protected her.
I looked up into the clear Greek sky and said ‘God, why are you doing this to me?’

My Dad vs Paul Rodgers

OK nostalgia night, but I think you’ll dig this story. In 1967 or so we got a gig supporting Free, the number one band in the UK at the time, we were still at school, 15 yrs old, but you could do that in those days, no rules..
 It was at a place called ‘The Barn’ in the middle of nowhere, (herts?) our dads had to drive us there in the boy scout van..After they left us there to set up and went to the pub..we just pissed around with the van driving it all over the place and sitting on the roof etc
So at the gig we got up and did our thing..we were crap but I remember two naked women got up and danced on stage with us, like I said no rules, Then came the main act but we had to carry our gear back thru the audience to get it out, and the lights had gone down, anticipation..
Then one of my mates said that we’d left a plugboard on the stage. My Dad overheard..’Was that the plugboard that you’d saved up to buy?’..’Yeah Dad but leave it, Free are about to play to 1000 people’ ‘fuck that’ he said and with a huge rubber torch he pushed his way thru 1000 hippies and climbed onto the stage.
Paul Rodgers looked amazed but Dad was into his stride. I saw him foraging around the back of the Marshall stacks. Then to my eternal embarrassment he emerged with the plugboard, nudged Paul Rodgers aside and said into the mic ‘Got it son!’..and to the band ‘OK.. carry on lads’ Love you Dad RIP