Right, first things first.
Apologies in advance for any por spelling, bad gram,mar and general lack of attention to the details of this blog (sic).
I have quickly discovered that travelling with a child eats into your down time something cruel. I anticipate most of my entries will be succint from now on.
This is probably a good thing.
Anyway, I was about to write about Pulau Tioman.
Our first two nights were spent at the resort of Air Batang (or ABC as it is commonly known). A ramshackle string of beach huts, cafes and shops clinging to a sweeping cove of bay with randomly abandoned boats spaced at regular intervals.
It is at ABC that I discover the true meaning of the phrase “like flies around sh*t”.
Many times I’ve changed a dirty nappy in the open air. Never have I seen the level of interest in their contents displayed by tropical flies.
Within seconds of the soiled nappy being whipped off The Boy’s pale white rump, and before I could clean him with a wipe, a cloud of flies had gathered to inspect the daily dumpings.
Even when I walked away with it to search for a suitable trash container, they continued their pursuit and hoverred around me and the the nappy, literally, like flies around sh*t.
Rude, just plain rude.
Aside from this, ABC was cheap (duty free beer always helps), the water was exceptionally calm, I saw macaque monkeys, monitor lizards and some peppercorns being dried in the sun, but overall it was not the idyll we were looking for so we decided to hire a 4×4 to take us to the far side of the island after two nights.
The four in 4×4 also proved to be appropriate, as it was at this time that I discovered that the Swans maiden outing in the Premier League had resulted in us shipping four goals.
If this trend continues, I will be boycotting all means of wheeled transport and resorting to boat, horse or sleigh henceforth.