I begin with the sad news that former Bangkok Post colleague George Stevens has passed away after a long illness.
It is always very difficult when someone you have closely worked with passes away and that is the case with George who hailed from Burma (Myanmar). I worked with on the night shift for many years often through difficult times. George was a quiet, unassuming person with a deep sense of humour. He also possessed a wonderful gift for the English language. On many occasions when I was struggling with the grammar in a news story I would turn to George and he put me right.
For much of the time we worked together when George was chief sub-editor. The hours were very unsocial and we didn't leave the building till the next day's edition had started printing at around 2am. We often went straight home but sometimes along with other colleagues we were hungry and would head to the old Pratunam market for a snack and a beer.
The market was a fascinating place in those days and was a good vantage point to watch the world go by. During these sessions George was great company and he would come up with all sorts of amusing anecdotes about his earlier days. I have two very distinct memories of George at the Pratunam market, one of which is quite personal.
Taking the plunge
On one occasion we had just arrived at Pratunam when there was a massive storm and the surrounding roads flooded very quickly. Luckily our regular spot at the market was under cover.
At one stage George went off to take a leak. He seemed to be gone ages and when he returned he was quite a sight, looking bedraggled and drenched from head to foot. It turned out the rising floodwaters had hidden an open drain next to the toilet and George had plunged into it up to his neck. Just imagine that at 3am. Although it was not exactly the relaxing end to evening George had in mind, he typically laughed it off and even made a joke about working on an "in-depth" story before ordering another beer.
The life-saver
Another Pratunam incident in the mid-1980s was of a more serious note and a huge reason why I have always regarded George with great fondness.
Once again we had just finished work and it was about 3am as George and I sat down at a table in the market. At a nearby stall the owner was using a large wok to fry a particularly lethal combination of pungent chillies and peppers. The heavy smoke swept across our table and I immediately began to have breathing difficulties which was a worry as I had previously suffered from asthma. Within two minutes I was gasping for air and realised it was a full-blown asthma attack.
George quickly saw I was in trouble and half carried me to a taxi where after putting me in the back seat and jumping in the front he told the cabbie to go to Bumrungrad hospital on Soi Nana as quickly as possible. We sped through the streets as I lay in the back gasping for breath. Upon arrival I remember George dragging me across the hospital foyer after which the nurses took over with their oxygen equipment. Eventually I began to breathe again thanks primarily to George's prompt action that probably saved my life.
But aside from his Pratunam heroics it was always a pleasure working with George. He was such a nice chap and I was fortunate to be his colleague for so many years. He was someone special. RIP
Lucille
In last week's column concerning guitar nicknames I neglected to mention the most famous of all, Lucille. It was given by legendary blues guitarist B B King to all of his guitars.
In December 1949, King was playing at a dance hall in a town called Twist in Arkansas. While he was performing, two drunken customers got in a fight, knocking over a large kerosene stove and sparking a major fire. Everyone fled the hall including the musician. But once outside he realised he had left his precious Gibson guitar on the stage and raced back inside the collapsing building and at considerable risk retrieved the instrument. The next day King learned that the men were fighting over a woman called Lucille who worked at the hall. So he christened the guitar Lucille to remind him never to go into a burning building again.
Signing up
I'm pleased to say that later this month I will be flogging my new tome Beyond Nowhere at a combined book-signing session with two other authors and their newly published chronicles. The esteemed scribes are former British Club rugby captain Jon Prichard with his sportingly entertaining Back Up the Blindside and long-time Bangkok resident Pete Bond's colourful memoirs My Name is Bond -- Pete Bond. While it is not exactly a meeting of the Literarti it is still a gathering to be reckoned with.
It will take place on Friday March 29 at the rooftop bar and restaurant of O'Shea's Irish Pub on Sukhumvit Soi 33/1. Please take the lift to the rooftop. The evening will kick off at 5pm.
Contact PostScript via email at oldcrutch@hotmail.com