Tummy trouble

I can't make the football match this afternoon, the first I've missed this season, as I've had severe stomach cramps all morning and caution is the key word, rather than spending a few hours at the Olympic Stadium with its less than rudimentary toilet facilities. Oh, and it looks like rain, which belted down for an hour yesterday lunchtime and flooded the whole city. I've still got a chest cough, that's been hanging about like a bad smell for over a week now, so all in all, I'm doing the usual manly thing and feeling very sorry for myself. No-one else could care less. Added to that, my cleaner Det, who is excellent, has handed in her notice and will be leaving next week. Damn, damn, damn. Cycling to my house three times a week is not doing her weak heart any good she tells me. Ah, okay then, good point. She's the 5th cleaner I've had in the last three years and they've all been especially good. My female friends say I should get married so my wife can look after me, which is the usual course of advice anytime I'm under the weather. Four of them have offered, but I'm not sure if that's to be my cleaner, or to be my wife!

Domestic upheaval

On the domestic front, it's all change again. My cleaner for the past year, Chrep, has decided to seek pastures new in a beauty shop and has departed. Although we rarely spoke to each other - she was acutely shy and spoke no English and my Khmer is pants - she made my life go like clockwork with her thrice-weekly visits and I will miss her. We hardly saw each other to be honest, she usually arrived after I'd gone to work, but when we did, she would scurry away to a corner of my flat to avoid making eye contact. Now I have to get used to a new cleaner, Det, who began work this morning by looking at my washing-machine with a puzzled expression. Unfortunately, though they are related, there was no official hand-over of duties, so we're starting from scratch. And Det doesn't speak English either.
Yesterday my flat was inspected as a possible location shoot for a forthcoming television programme but I think my yellow walls and yellow curtains put the director off. And who would blame them. If any television show wants to do a flat makeover, feel free to contact me.
Did I mention that my book manuscript is complete and it's been handed to the publishers? Oh I did. Okay, I'll shut up about it then until the ink is dry on the first edition to roll off the printing press, which, fingers crossed, will be in a few months time.
Outside the confines of my flat, Phnom Penh will have its first Pizza Hut soon enough, somewhere along the riverside. The best place for it as far as I'm concerned. I've only ever been in Pizza Hut once in my lifetime, it wasn't a pleasant experience and I don't intend to go again. The same group also run the franchise for KFC (who have 7 outlets in Cambodia at the moment) and they've declared another five branches of the 'finger-lickin' chicken' will open up in the capital, Battambang and Kompong Cham. God help us.