Conceived in Liberty

"To be born an Englishman is to have won the lottery of life"

New place

Quipped Cecil Rhodes at the Empire's zenith. I sometimes wonder what this giant of British imperialism would make of today's England? And the wider western world at large? Would he agree with the weak-men-create-hard-times meme doing the rounds on Twatter? Surely he'd wince at the degeneracy? The weakness? The pandering? The decline? Would he approve of the increasing trend across the west to incrementally remove freedoms? Boil the frog? Maybe.

Decline

The weird thing is I had a sense of where Blighty was headed in the late nineties and was lucky enough to don a parachute and gtfo in 2006. Best thing I ever did. Been watching (with popcorn) ever since and don't see things improving anytime soon - beatings will continue until morale improves. I've been watching immigrants to Canada (on youtube) massively regret their decisions. It's morbidly fascinating as it dawns on them that being tax farmed to fund Trudeau's woketopia isn't such a great deal - even if you're top of the "equality" heap. They're buying a brand of "Western exceptionalism" that hasn't existed for some time. Much like my former students as they jetted off to scammy DEI Universities in the Anglosphere with hope in their hearts. Poor bastards.

Expecting Stallone/Eastwood/Bond and getting Biden/Trudeau/Sunak. Caveat emptor.

Temple

Are the sacred cows of democracy, equality and central banking at the heart of the issue? With clown world being but an inevitable outcome? Only by extending the franchise to the feeblest can they end up with such juxtapositions as bloated welfare and open borders (among many other glaring hypocrisies). Nietzsche might have called it tyranny of the weak, ressentiment or slave morality. Churchill had a couple of funny quips:

The best argument against democracy is a five-minute conversation with the average voter.

and

Democracy is the worst form of government except all the others that have been tried.

I share Plato's skepticism - would a Philosopher King work? Is Marcus Aurelius as close as we've ever been?

Why am I on about all this bullshit? Well, because I've been listening to the mammoth Conceived in Liberty audiobook charting colonial America's history from 1600ish to 1800ish. They had a pretty good thing going with their constitution but, like much of the west, appear to be voting away the liberties enshrined within. Democracide. Sad.

Liberty

Bryan

Chatting to Bryan one night when he casually drops into the conversation that he'd gone to the Ukraine in 2022.

What did you just say?

I was enthralled as he shared the incredible details - a helluva listen. Anyhow, later I lay in the hammock wondering what inspires a 61yo former coal miner from Mansfield to willingly spend six months on the frontlines of a foreign war? To exercise his liberty to put himself in harm's way? What forces are at play? And of what sphere? Spiritual or physical? 

A few thoughts came to mind. First something I wrote in my 2017 novella:

I was on the CBR250 weaving in and out of traffic on Chiang Mai's super highway. I loved riding fast despite the well-known dangers of Thai roads. Speed, skill and danger - what more can a man want? The thrill of hurtling along twisty roads as fast as you dare is worth the risk. That gut-punch feeling of terror as you approach a corner too quickly. A single error can be fatal. We never feel more alive as when we flirt with death.

Fish Island

Perhaps there's something in that last line: We never feel more alive as when we flirt with death? Did Bryan feel truly alive as he drove white vans full of munitions to positions at the front? Along cratered roads with ordnance exploding in the distance? Knowing his oxygen addiction could end at any moment? Did being so close to death paradoxically fill him with life? It seemed to from where I was sitting.

I thought back to the Nietzschean concept of downgoing. A desire to overcome nihilism by striving to fill a perceived existential void. Is this, in essence, what Bryan was doing? Downgoing? Is this what drives us? Drives the masses to pack themselves onto commuter trains to their depressing urban grinds? Drives you? Me? I'm not sure.

Meaning

Bong Jonny

Something that's nagged my entire life is that I never knew what I wanted to do. Nothing felt organic. A void. I stared blankly as the school careers officer suggested Infantry. I only joined the Navy as I happened to randomly walk past a photo of a warship moored off a tropical island in the window of a recruiting office. I only worked for Pfizer as I thought a corporate grind is what's expected of fresh graduates. Expected by whom though? Do I not chart my own course? I only became a teacher to serve the greater desire of remaining in the tropics. I had girlfriends partly to satiate that biological impulse but mostly because of social pressure to conform. All bland dirge. Wheel spinning. Not authentic living. It's fair to say I never found my calling. Motorbike adventures around Thailand was as close as it got. Until now. I think I was born to retire early as a teetotal ascetic monk in Kampot.

Coffee girls

I suspect, like Bryan, the moments we feel most alive - where the electricity of life courses through our veins - is when we simply let go. Just jump into the unknown. Fuck it. Go to the Ukraine. Sell the hoose. Ditch the lass. Leave the country. Buy a brand new CBR500. Ride for a week in just the clothes you're wearing. Take the bends as fast as you dare. Climb mountains - in January. Swim to the other island. No maps. No guidebooks. Rawdog hoes, binge drink, smoke - then conquer those vices. Quit jobs on pay day. Bench your max. Put boxing gloves on. Transition from beast to man, slave to master.

Changing rooms

Minimalism

My Khmer neighbors of almost two years left without warning, taking their little fluffy dog (me best marra) with them. I liked this young couple and their abrupt departure felt like a face-slap alarm call. I read it as a cosmic signal - time to change something. A few days later two drifter Cameroonian lads moved in for five nights - disruptive transience. Signal confirmed. I suddenly needed more privacy, more space, more stability and to be on the ground floor.

Bird swarm

And thus began the search. I viewed a dozen potential candidates without becoming despondent like I would've previously. I knew serendipity was just around the corner. Patience young Padawan. And thus, perfection fell out of the sky. A tidy little ground-floor bed-n-bog even further out in the boonies. With local Khmer neighbors. $70. Champion.

Perfection

Posh

I bought a new (posher) hammock to celebrate. Holes were dug, concrete mixed and posts welded. The previously redundant $15 parasol even came into play - result.

Spotless

The new landlord's a canny enough lad but I imperceptibly winced as he showed me around after he'd just cleaned it. The main area was fine but it was obvious he'd never scrubbed shitters to RN standards before. The first 20 minutes in my new palace were spent elbow deep in U-bends. If I'd learnt anything during my RN apprenticeship it was how to make wets and scrub shitters - you can't help but get good at it. I was delighted to see a scoopy-scoopy-bucket-flush alongside a shower hose unencumbered with electrical heaters. In short order the shithoose was gleaming.

Kitchen

However, the បន្ទប់ទឹក has no sink, so shaving happens in the "kitchen". I bought a new mirror to hang there. I didn't have a mirror at the old gaff so being able to shave by sight rather than just feel has been a revelation - a welcome bit of comfort. The only time I saw how I looked was at the gym or in the mirrors at the Power of Love bar. Obviously there's no fridge, aircon or TV.

Luxury is still weakness.

Physical

Since turning 50 I've had a sense that we should be striving to be the best possible version of ourselves. In mental, physical, spiritual and financial realms. Obviously the genetic lottery endows us with various strengths and weaknesses and it pays to be honest with ourselves when looking for areas upon which to improve. In my case I was cursed with an inability to gain weight - floating around the underweight/normal boundary on BMI charts. A long distance runner's physique. Skinny and weak.

To address this I started going to the gym in my 40s - better late than never. I recently added boxing training and the boost in self confidence has been staggering. It's somehow different to just lifting weights. Faster. Aerobic. Dynamic. The feeling of power as you beat the shit out of a swinging bag, as if harnessing unseen energy, channeling it through your very being and, ultimately, unleashing it in spark form. Is this the 'electricity of life coursing through our veins' I touched on earlier?

Food n swim

Coach

After speaking a bit of shit Khmer with Bong Dare I go for a feed, coffee and splodge in the twatpacker pool nearby.

Sometimes I feel cheated that I waited until 32 to leave England, and 48 to pull the retirement trigger. However, on reflection, overall, it's been an awesome ride. Plenty ups and doons - wins and losses - much of it recorded here. Perhaps some future digital archeologist might stumble upon this bollicks and scratch his chin. How did plebs live at the dawn of the internet age?

Would I change owt? Would I feck.

Aye, life's areet like. Canny.