Admission

Have you ever been camping? Admission will start soon be vigilant and I wish you success. Don't stop reading and prepare for post utme because it may come.

https://jambs3.wordpress.com/2026/04/29/admission/

Campaign Against Camping!

Have I ever been camping?

Have I ever been camping?!!

You’re rootin’ tootin’, I’ve been camping. I’ll tell you – I’ve spent some of the most miserable days and nights of my life under canvas.

I’m cool with the notion of getting back to nature. I did, after all, spend eighteen years of my working life outdoors, in just about every kind of weather imaginable, when I was working with animals. That part doesn’t faze me at all. It wasn’t pleasant at times, for sure, but I knew come six o’ clock in the evening, I could head home for a hot bath, something nice to eat, and watch my favourite television programme.

That didn’t happen on any camping expedition I was on, that’s for sure.

You see, I was in the Boy Scouts. In the late 1960s and early ’70s. Camping was seen then as ‘character building.’ And I think that’s what turned me into the bitter and twisted wee character I am today.

The idea was we went on organised camps with the Troop Leaders to learn all sorts of useful skills.

Aye right! I’m not sure exactly how may tent pegs I’ve subsequently had to whittle from a damp log found in the woods, but I’m guessing if I were to count them, they’d come to less than a finger on one hand.

Map-reading? There’s another. Just jump in a taxi for goodness sake. Erecting a tent. Why? I’m never likely to go camping ever, ever again.

It was pointless. Why not just take us away for the weekend to a nice hotel in a distant city where we could all sneak out, meet up with the local Girl Guide unit , and blag a few illicit beers. That would have more of a practical life experience.

But no – not only were our parents so happy to pack us off for random weekends with the Scout Leaders, so they could … well … they were also happy to let us go without the adult supervision. And so off we’d go, maybe six of us from our own patrol; off to show the Leaders what great Scouts we were. Off to live under canvas for a weekend at the arse-end of the Earth.

One time, our ever-so-inexperienced band of idiots pitched our tent at the foot of a wooded slope. With a river about fifty yards away.

And it rained. Big, Scottish rain. Scottish rain is like rain the world over. Only more miserable!

At two o’clock in the morning, with our sleeping bags already soaked, we had go out in the dark, with some crappy wee torch thing (the wick in the lanterns we’d brought were too damp to ignite) and dig a bloody big, deep trench around the tent and divert the cascading water away.

Over the next two days, we replaced the rainwater in our clothes with smoke from the campfire which we eventually managed to restart.

And we couldn’t just break camp and head home, because we were in the middle of bleedin’ nowhere, and weren’t due to be picked up until the Monday afternoon.

And see all this palaver about digging latrines or using the bushes in the woods like a bear does??!! Whaaat?!

That was the last time I went camping.

(Oh no, wait. My wife and I did stay overnight in one of these plush Arabian tent things in Goa, India, a couple of years ago. And I got bitten on the chest by a huge spider that I witnessed escaping from under the bedsheet. The bite left a dirty great welt that I had to bombard with antiseptic creams for a week.)

And caravanning is no better! I’ll post my ‘Caravan Holiday Hell‘ tale, taken from my book ‘A Space Hopper Killed My Hamster‘ in a day or two. Once I’ve gotten over the trauma of re-living my Camping experiences.

SO THAT’S IT – CAMPING MUST BE BANNED! I’M STARTING A CAMPAIGN. HERE AND NOW! ARE YOU WITGH ME, BROTHERS & SISTERS? ADD YOUR NAME IN THE COMMENTS SECTION BELOW, AND TOGETHER WE WILL CANVASS AGAINST CANVAS!

#author #BoyScouts #Camping #DailyBlog #Dailyprompt1923 #HaveYouEverBeenCamping #humor #humour #literature #Scotland #Writing

The hidden horrors of camping

Daily writing prompt Have you ever been camping? View all responses

I have been camping several times. I know that familiar ache in the ribs from the hard ground, the smell of damp canvas and morning dew, the sizzle of an early morning breakfast. I can’t say it is something I would rush back to as I am more of a hot climate holiday person these days (alongside at least a modicum of comfort). This does put me in mind of a short story I wrote, which I will warn you, if you were ever thinking of going camping any time soon, this might put you off for life! This is Pitter Patter.

Pitter Patter: A Dark Camping Horror Story in the Forest That Will Change How You See the Woods

     It was almost possible to grip the silence on the winding paths between the pines. The steady drips hit the plastic hoods of a small group of children, trudging through the woods. Miss Tyler fumbled with a soggy map and hopeless compass. This trek had already taken longer than planned. The meagre puddles of sky began to flood. The thought of not getting back to the road was nauseating. It would not be sensible to camp without equipment. risking Children had a propensity for wandering off or injuring themselves in the dark. Miss Tyler tried to check their position on the map. They had to be less than a mile from the road now. She was sure that she had heard voices ahead and took this as a positive sign. They were getting back towards civilisation. It would be highly embarrassing to have to call the rangers to rescue them, especially if they were a few yards from their destination. 

     The enthusiasm had disappeared, and rather than shrieking and hollering excitedly, the children had succumbed to a murmuring doleful slope through the mud. They wanted home as much as she did. The pitter patter was all around them. Bouncing off soft mud, anoraks and cold fingers. Then the voices ahead, bleeding through the noise of the rain. 

     “Nearly there everyone” Miss Tyler said without much conviction. The group upped their pace a little, heading into the forest, and towards the sound of the voices ahead.

     Alastair Blair threw the last gulp of freezing cold tea out of the window as he huddled in the land rover. Rangers never enjoyed a hot drink unless it was at base. As soon as you opened the thermos something would need his attention. He was used to drinking it cold, but when the weather turned he missed that small comfort. Greta used to make stuff for him, sandwiches, treats, that kind of thing. He missed that feeling that someone cared. This time she had chosen to be distant permanently it seemed. As quickly as she had appeared in his life she had gone again. He remembered how lost she looked, at the side of the road in the rain.

     Alastair told all of them when they set off that you really can’t see the wood for the trees.Not that any of these groups listened. He sat in the land rover awaiting the return of the final group of school kids. They would not launch a rescue just yet. There was every chance they would pop up out of the woods and all would be well. Every chance. The radio crackled into life.

     “Ali, can you head over to the Campbell road, there’s a few branches down and we need to get it clear, over”

     He took a deep sigh and clicked the button on the radio “Heading there now, ten minutes. Any sign of that school group?, over” he replied. 

     “Nothing as yet, Keep an eye out, over” 

     He spun the vehicle back towards Campbell road. He began to mentally prepare himself for a long night. If this group had not made it out of the woods by now, there was very little chance they would be able to do it in the dark.

     The forest was thousands of acres wide. An intricate pattern of service roads cut through the lines of trees creaking under the weight of their own existence. They fell against each other like drunken relatives, held up by their sturdier siblings. Under this dark canopy, in the deepest part was the pitter patter. Closer then further. The forest heaved, hiding its truth. But it could not hide the voices, echoing without coming from any direction in particular. 

     “Hello, help, hello?”  and then “Lost, I’m lost” then it cried a miserable cry.

     Murray and Malc raced through the trees, engines screaming. As long as there were no Rangers up this way the estate belonged to them. They would have to catch them first.

     They reached the camping spot and skidded the quads over to one side of the road.  Three or four bottles of wine clinked in Murray’s rucksack as they hoisted their gear and took the well worn path to their favourite spot. They didn’t need a tent. Black rock was set up and ready to go. They already had everything they needed.

     The large piece of granite jutted out like a broken thumb from a fist of hillside. Over time, they had built a short platform with just enough room to camp out. Above them the forest teetered on its edge, the broad sky hung like an ever changing tapestry. It was an unruly lovely place.

     A small pine lay across the road, the recent rain having lifted it out of its earthy boots. Bare roots exposed like gnarled toes. Alastair lashed a length of rope around the root end and tied the branch end to the land rover. A short drag pulled the tree to the side of the road and he rolled it down the hill into the darkness. He scuffed the cones and needles from the wet tarmac with his boots. The radio remained silent. He pulled a cigarette from his jacket. The smoke rose worm-like into the cold air. He loved it out here. It offered the peace and silence he needed. 

     Footsteps tapped against the road. He spun round, expecting to see one of the school children. There was nothing, just the empty road. The trees shrugged in the breeze and offered no answers. Maybe it was pine cones. Maybe he had not heard anything.

     He reached into the car for the radio.

     “Hey where did you say that school party was walking, over?”

     There was a brief pause of static. He took another drag on the cigarette whilst looking around again.

     “Down by Bleachers brook, south side we think – though they could have wandered elsewhere?”

He tried to work out the distance against how long they had been out. There was a small chance they could have got up here but it was not very likely.

     “No worries, just thought I heard something that’s all, over”

     “Can you return to base now Ali, there’s no sign of them, we need to pull together a potential rescue, over”

     “On it, be there in fifteen. Put the kettle on will you? Over”

     “Make your own bloody tea, pal, over and out”

     He smiled to himself as he drove back to the house, hoping that they would be found before he got there. He did not want to be out there all night.

     This was a good place, quiet. The ground is dry and smooth. Optimal for our needs. I usher the children gently against the sap, holding them fast. This will keep them safe. Unless they escape. I call for them to stay close. I hope none are missing. It will soon be supper.

Murray and Malc were steaming drunk. They rolled around the small fire laughing at Murrays last terrible joke.

     “Go and get some more wood for the fire you nutter”

     “I ain’t getting the wood”

     “It’s your turn”

     “We brought this lot with us – how is it my turn?”

     “Well we’re starting turns now, and your first”

Malc pointed at his brother accepting this was a good point.

     “Well, I’ll go he said”, “But not because you said so, it’s because I’m a better person”

He sauntered up the hill towards the trees.

     Murray picked up an empty bottle of wine and flung it down the hill. He heard the satisfying smash of the bottle as he reached into the rucksack for the next one.

Malc was struggling. There was no dry wood when he reached the trees. He clambered further into the forest. He was struggling to stay upright and low branches banged against him in the dark. The phone torch refused to stay on as he poked at the blurry touchscreen. He slumped down for a minute against a thick trunk to try and get his act together. It was pretty comfortable here, not too cold. He closed his eyes for a second.

Tonight I will give birth to myself, a new fermion, new life. I will draw energy from the earth, coat myself in the ooze and slime from the forest  and stick the mossy layers to my skin. The trees are heaving muscles, ropes tying together contracting and squeezing the air. In those cold caves. Those cabins of solitude, I feel my screams leach from an inside out throat. It is not a birthing, it is a cocooning, a metamorphosis to a fresh fully formed being, a whole new being.

I was ready this time, I knew the signs, the ageing of the skin like old leaves turned crisp in spring. Eyes knotted wood. Limbs like falling branches, brittle. The forest will help me build this shell, keep me in, safe. The pod hangs listless from a thick branch, held tight with gossamer threads. The breeze rocks gently bye baby, like a sunless slumber. thick with the heavy scent of a new self. 

Malc woke suddenly, as if someone had shook him awake. 

     “Murray?” he yelled. No answer. He was about to shout again when he heard it, close by, pitter patter. He fumbled for his phone as it grew closer, then further away. He managed to get the torch function working but it was little use in the darkness. There was nothing. He pocketed the phone and pushed himself upright from the ground. His neck was sore. He followed a trail of broken branches. That must be the way he came in.

     “Hello” he heard in the distance. 

     “Hello” he yelled back. Then heard the reply again. He headed towards the sound of the voice. He would be back at black rock with his brother in a few minutes. He stumbled through the blackness. A small translucent globe, egg-like, clung tightly to the damp skin at the back of his neck.

Evan Aldridge stomped across the office. 

  There had been some rumours that Evans’ brother had been having an affair with the boss’s wife and that this was the reason he had disappeared. It was not the affair that bothered Evan, it was the night he abandoned him in the forest. That night when he needed his brother most.

“The kitty was empty and his stuff was gone by the time I got back” Evan had told them. I hope that coward never shows his ugly mush round here again, I’ll rearrange it for him”. There was no love lost between them. Occasionally Alastair had come across Evan wandering through the woods, still looking. There was something about the whole thing that Alastair thought Evan didn’t believe. Maybe thought he was still out there somewhere. 

They had worked out the areas where each ranger would start searching. Alastair had volunteered to go back the way he came over the Campbell road, particularly as he knew the spot where he thought he had heard someone.

     “If this group are just messing about I’m not gonna be best pleased”

     “We can’t run the risk of that. You only thought you heard something, you didn’t actually see anyone did you?

     “Well no, but”

     “But nothing, get back up there and if you see anything, report it back in. But only if you actually see something”

The rangers shuffled out of the office and into their respective vehicles.

     “Fine” Alastair said “but I’m taking these” and swiped a packet of biscuits from the table and stuffed them in his pocket. He got back in the Land Rover before Evan could catch up with him and headed back to the spot on the Campbell road where he previously stopped.

Along the road his headlights reflected against something, shoved over to the side and almost in the ditch. He slammed on the brakes and reversed, winding down the window. Two quad bikes, parked facing out to the road. “Murray and Malc” he said to himself. He pulled the Land rover over, took a torch from the glove box and scanned the area. He saw the path that he had not noticed before heading up the hill. If they were about then it was possible they had seen something. They may even have stumbled across the group themselves. Anything was possible with these two he thought. He grabbed the radio and started walking along the path into the darkness. It was not long before he spotted the flicker of the fire at black rock.

This is a good place, I can leave the children holding fast to the trunks with pine sap. They will find their host and then I will draw them in. Let them find the nest and the children, they need to find us, the children are hungry. I am hungry. I can hear them getting closer, I can smell their heat on the breeze. I will call to them, “Hello, help, hello”. Watch them come running. 

Malc wandered blindly towards the sound. It could not be much further. He didn’t remember the forest being as dense as this, or perhaps this was a different path to the one that he took. He still felt a little dizzy from the wine and he could feel his heart beating thickly, as if there was not enough blood to go round the body. He felt weak and paused, leaning against a tree to support him. He heard the voice again “Hello”.

     “Hello, hello” he called back weakly into the dark silence. He pressed onwards. The trees were beginning to clear a little. A beam of moonlight illuminated what appeared to be a small clearing just ahead. He was not out of the woods, but perhaps this was something, a place to stop and be found. His head ached and he wanted to stop walking, but something drove him forward, something told him this clearing was the place he needed to be. He reached the spot just as his knees gave way. He was suddenly aware of a presence, something else, slithering out of the undergrowth. He was too tired and weak to stand or even raise his arms in defence as he felt the creature’s rippling segmented trunk wrap itself around his torso.

     “Hello, help, hello” he heard from the creature’s snapping jaws, before its elongated mandibles sliced deeply into his throat. The earth turned, swam thick with the smell of his own blood, He could only gurgle as his lips mouthed the word ‘help’. Then the blackness descended.

     When the creature was finished feeding, it rolled the body over, its antennae gently caressing the egg attached to Malc’s neck, ensuring it was not damaged in the attack. Seemingly satisfied, the creature returned to its position lying close against the thick trunk of the pine tree, flattening its body. Intermittently, clacking its jaw, “pitter patter, pitter patter” followed by the vocal call to the darkness “hello, help, hello”.

     High above, swinging gently from a thick branch was the pod, a silken shell, large enough for the creature to fit in. It was inviting, warm and ready. Soon she would fill it with herself, stitch up the entrance and await the transformation. It would all be done soon.

     At Black Rock, Alastair found Murray flat out on his back, wine bottle still in hand.

     “Oi Murray, Murray where’s your brother”

     “Eh? He went to get the wood for the fire, what are you doing here?”

“Lost kids, looks like we have another one now don’t we – when did he leave?

     “Ages ago, he must have took the wrong path, he’ll be alright”

Alastair ignored him for a few seconds and got on the radio.

     “It’s Ali here – I’m just off the Campbell road with Murray. Did you hear anything back yet? Over”

     The radio crackled for a while, then nothing. Murray kicked at the dirt beneath his feet. Another night where the rangers had turned up to spoil their fun. Dad would be furious.

     “I’ll have to try further down the hill, c’mon you we need to get you home” Alistair hated babysitting these two. He wished he was back on the road with a cigarette and his cold tea.

     “But what about Malc?”

     “I can’t risk both of you getting lost up here, there’s no sign of him, he must have walked back”

     “But what about…”
    “I’ll come back to the spot soon as we get you back and find him, don’t worry”

     Then from above them they heard the noise again.

     “Hello, help, hello” clear as the night, echoing over the treetops. They both stood still for a second, staring upwards into the pitch.

     “That’ll be those schoolkids. Come on, we’ll get them back onto the road and then get you back. They must be quite close – I’m sure I can hear their footsteps”

     Evan Aldridge was an experienced woodsman. His head torch beamed through the pines like a second moon. His feet gently crunching against fallen leaves and loose roots.  He had sat in the office long enough and after two hours of nothing had climbed into his jeep and headed down the back lane, parking at the spot where he last saw his brother. He brushed the branches aside every few minutes to regain his bearings. He would not be surprised if his brother had been camping out here all this time, lying low. He knew he could be dangerous. There was no way he wanted those schoolkids stumbling across a grizzly hermit and some sort of accident taking place. He turned his head slowly across the landscape. Through the trees he thought there might be a small clearing, one he had not noticed before. He took out his penknife and released the blade. Just in case. He thought he heard footsteps, perhaps. Perhaps it was just the rain again.

     “Always bloody raining here,” he whispered to himself.

     At the estate office the telephone rang out to an answer machine.

     “Oh hello it’s Miss Tyler here, sorry it took me so long to get back to the hostel we got lost…again. Anyway just to confirm we are all safe and well. If you need to get in touch you can contact me here. Sorry if we caused any bother…goodbye.”

     The empty office returned to silence again after the call ended.

     Alastair and Murray followed the sound of footsteps deeper into the forest. Alastair was sure they were here. They could both hear the calls for help. There was something familiar about the voice, or at least he thought there was. It sounded like Allia.

     Evan reached the clearing slightly ahead and from the opposite direction. The voices were louder now and he was half expecting to see the group huddled together in the darkness. He saw the creature move seconds before it struck. Knife ready he lunged forward, tripping at the key moment. The creature descended on him biting and snapping wildly. Evan tried to move in resistance but found he could not. He wondered in the last moments what had caused him to fall. Managing to turn his head in the direction he had come from his eyes landed on a skull, stripped of flesh. But he would recognise those broken glasses anywhere. They belonged to his brother.

     Alastair and Murray had frozen in fear as they saw this creature writhing and biting at Evan’s body in the darkness. Murray reacted first and tried to run. The creature was on him quickly, dragging him back into the nest, this time its sharp mandibles ripping into his stomach like butter. Alastair made a grab for Evan’s knife and swung wildly at the beast, slashing and ripping. On multiple legs it wrapped and squeezed round him like a snake, forcing him to drop the blade to the ground. He held still, expecting the final strike at any moment. He thought of Allia, he thought of nothing else.

     The creature had not struck. There was some moment of recognition, the long antennae stroked at his frozen face as its bulb-like head turned from side to side. It reached to the back of his neck grasping him in its powerful jaws, biting deep to retain its grip and lifting him bodily into the air. The creature and Alasdair simultaneously drawn into the cocoon and drew him deep inside. Gossamer threads stitching the edges of the nest together.

The pines sighed in the breeze as the droplets of rain hit the top canopy. Down the road, the cars lay abandoned. The forest held its breath.

     Time has passed, how much I cannot say, long enough to grow strong, reform. The old body has become a shell, wrapping around this new form. Its flesh is softer, more nimble, dextrous. It has hair, long and thick over its head, the mouth and teeth are smaller, supple. It is warm inside the cocoon. Soon it will be time to leave.

     I walk out of the forest, not crawling. A woman, fully formed, taking bold strides. Under a rock by the fallen tree that crossed the road are a set of clothes, just where I left them. I recognise the spot from the cut log that had now been shifted from the road. I washed my feet in the stream and pulled the clothing over newly formed skin. It was overly sensitive and responded to the change in texture with raised bumps where it touched. I drank a little from the stream, washing the taste of old blood from my new mouth.  I am ready to live again. The road beckons. The abandoned Land Rover with the keys. I remember how it worked, this travelling machine.  Soon I will relearn more of the language, how it sounds, how the words can be mangled in my mouth. I sit in the driver’s seat. I make the sound that will draw him in.

     A new figure emerged from the pines, following the sound of my call, a familiar sound now. Its limbs were new, stronger, younger, hungrier. It grew steadier as it continued to walk, vision adjusting to the emerging daylight.

“hello hello hello” it called back. The new larger male stepped into the vehicle next to me. He grins, reaching out a hand to touch my face. I snap my teeth at the fingers and then grin back. I reach into the back of the land rover and retrieve a large blanket, wrapping it around his bare shoulders.  I have found him again. And he has found me. He calls me Allia, I like my new name. I start the engine and the vehicle lurches down the road. Soon we will find a new home together, it will be dry and warm. There will be plenty to eat. We will make more children together, we will be a family.

     In the forest, beneath the dry pines lay three bodies, an empty gossamer sac hung listlessly above like an empty cradle. Surrounding the bodies were a scattering of small opaque globes, the colour of a misted moon. The globes began to slit open, sharp mandibles slicing through the membrane that had kept them safe. Wriggling free from their shells the sightless creatures crawled unsteadily on new legs towards the scent of the food their mother had left. As they began to feed, their jaws became stronger and broader, till the sound of their snaps could be heard for miles around, pitter patter, pitter patter.

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Campfires Fix More Than Therapy Sometimes

Daily writing promptHave you ever been camping?View all responses I go camping a lot. Not once a year, not some Instagram weekend warrior nonsense. I mean multiple times a year, like I’m trying to slowly become a forest cryptid. At this point, I trust trees more than people, and honestly, the trees have earned it. We’ve got a camper, because I’ve done the whole “sleep on the ground and question my life choices at 3 a.m.” phase. I’m not 22 anymore. My back has opinions now. The […]

https://ericfoltin.com/2026/04/29/campfires-fix-more-than-therapy-sometimes/

The Psychology of Keeping Useless Stuff

Why do you save things you’ll probably never use again? This prompt’s from ericfoltin.com, not one of those mass-produced Jetpack or WordPress leftovers that feel like they were phoned in sometime before people stopped using dial-up. If you want more, hit the Daily Prompts page at https://ericfoltin.com/writing-prompts/ and grab whatever sparks something. Just don’t be that person who takes without giving back. Drop a link, give some credit, and move on like a decent human. I save […]

https://ericfoltin.com/2026/04/29/the-psychology-of-keeping-useless-stuff/

Culinary Adventures: When Food Abroad Bites Back!

📌Disclaimer: Please note that if you click on any of the links in this blog, I will be receiving a small commission at NO extra cost to you!📌

Prepare your taste buds and buckle up for a gastronomic rollercoaster ride as we explore the wild world of culinary adventures abroad. From mouth-watering delicacies to unexpected surprises, join me as we delve into the delightful and sometimes downright daring realm of international cuisine.

https://benable.com/abnolte/81c35f813073af56266c

1. The Spicy Spectacle

You pride yourself on your tolerance for heat, so when the friendly street vendor in Bangkok offers you a taste of their “mild” curry, you confidently accept with a smile. But as the first fiery bite hits your tongue like a flamethrower in a chili factory, you quickly realize that you may have underestimated the true meaning of “Thai spicy.” Cue the frantic gulps of water and the impromptu fire-breathing performance that leaves your fellow diners both impressed and slightly concerned for your well-being.

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2. The Mystery Meat Mishap

You’re feeling adventurous, so when the menu at that quaint little bistro in Paris lists “escargot” as the house specialty, you decide to throw caution to the wind and give it a try. But as you take your first tentative bite of the slimy delicacy, you can’t shake the sinking feeling that you may have just eaten something that was alive mere moments ago. Cue the existential crisis and the fervent vow to stick to more familiar fare for the remainder of your culinary adventures.

https://benable.com/abnolte/81c35f813073af56266c/details?detail_id=5416811

3. The Cultural Conundrum

You’re determined to immerse yourself in the local culture, so when your gracious host in Tokyo presents you with a steaming bowl of what can only be described as “mystery soup,” you graciously accept with a smile and a bow. But as you tentatively take a sip and try to identify the various unidentifiable floating objects, you realize that sometimes, cultural immersion comes with a side of gastrointestinal distress. Cue the polite nods and the silent prayers for a speedy recovery as you struggle to maintain your composure in the face of culinary adversity.

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4. The Street Food Fiasco

You’ve heard rave reviews about the street food scene in Marrakech, so when you stumble upon a bustling market teeming with tantalizing smells and exotic flavors, you can’t resist the siren call of the street vendors. But as you dig into your first bite of falafel, you quickly realize that street food adventures come with their own set of risks – namely, the inevitable battle with food poisoning that leaves you regretting every culinary decision you’ve ever made.

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5. The Sweet Surprise

Amidst the chaos and confusion of culinary mishaps abroad, sometimes you stumble upon a hidden gem that restores your faith in the power of international cuisine. Whether it’s a piping hot plate of pad thai in Bangkok or a decadent slice of tiramisu in Rome, these unexpected delights serve as a delicious reminder that sometimes, the best culinary adventures are the ones that catch you by surprise.

https://benable.com/abnolte/81c35f813073af56266c

So there you have it, fellow foodies – a humorous glimpse into the world of culinary adventures abroad, where every bite is an adventure and every meal is a memory. Remember, no matter how many culinary mishaps you encounter along the way, it’s all part of the delicious journey. Until next time, happy eating and may your taste buds be forever adventurous!

This is the second last post about Travelling…..keep your eyes peeled for the next blogs all about????

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Daily writing prompt What details of your life could you pay more attention to? View all responses

I’ve always been a foodie.

I enjoy my going on food trips with my family or friends. If I’m bored or sleepy, I would look for a snack, which again is well, food.

Thus, over the years, the weight started piling up and towards the end of primary school, I noticed that my weight posed an issue. As a child, I was overweight. 

I recalled visiting the doctor once when I was in primary school coz I was unwell and he made me stand on the weighing scale and perhaps he did say more but at a young age, all I remembered was him yelling “Your child is FAT. FAT. FAT. FAT. F-A-T, FAT!”, all throughout my checkup and as I was leaving his office with my mom.

It felt like as if I had committed a felony. When in reality, he was trying to point out on how unhealthy it is for me, somehow in a rather direct way.

Over the years, I’ve struggled with my weight. It was never constant and always up and down. I’ve tried various diets which didn’t stuck long. 

The only time I properly lost weight was when I started my housemanship journey. Amidst me eating at the wrong time, somehow the weight just magically went off. Firstly, perhaps I was too occupied with work to eat properly, hence, unknowingly I tend to practice intermittent fasting almost everyday and secondly, my movements have increased dramatically. Walking above 15k steps per day was a norm.

However, as I progressed throughout my postings, I learnt how to fit eating back into my busy schedule and the weight started piling back slowly.

I brought the matter up to a dear friend and she mentioned that perhaps, I could try controlling my food portion. I reflected and realised that all these while, I’ve been consuming food in the usual portion which didn’t had an effect on me previously as I was constantly on the move.

Thus, if there is something I seriously need to pay more attention to, it would be my food choices as well as the portion. Food is extremely delicious and good. Sadly, I would say that I fall into the category of “Live to Eat” rather than “Eat to Live”.

Hence, it’s time for me to take charge and make a change towards my food choices and start my journey towards a healthier life.

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Related Posts:

• Surviving A Month Of Tagging In My Fourth Posting – Surgery | Housemanship Diaries
• Appreciation Towards The Medical Officers (MOs) – Housemanship Diaries
• My Last Day In Paediatrics As A House Officer
• Working In The Nursery Ward – Housemanship Diaries
• My Downfall In Surgery Which Led To My Extension – Housemanship Diaries
• 1 Year Of Housemanship Update – Housemanship Diaries
• Another Good Advice I Will Remember For The Longest Time – Housemanship Diaries
• The Time I Turned A Baby’s Hand Blue – Housemanship Diaries
• My Experience In General Paediatrics (Paeds 2B) – Housemanship Diaries
• Enjoying The Journey – Housemanship Diaries
• Housemanship Diaries: Surviving the Tagging Period in Paediatrics

Paediatrics Posting. The posting of tiny human beings.

Looking back, I feared entering into the Paediatrics posting. I think I say that for almost every posting.

However, it was one that I fell in love with before I even off-tagged, as mentioned in one of my articles previously.

The stress level was not as bad as it was in other postings mainly because we were dealing with children. Not to say that treating them is easier, in fact it isn’t as they tend to fight back, scream or cry a lot.

I mean they’re just children.

But perhaps when I do come to work, the smile on their cute faces were enough to alleviate some of the stress and checking them clinically involves a skill as they are easily triggered. 

I would find myself playing with them or calming them down. Most of the time if I were to auscultate them, they would either start playing with it, swat it away or start crying.

The Paediatrics posting is the place I started eating again amidst the stress. Irregardless of the amount of patients and work to do, there is always time for lunch or at least our superiors will make sure of that. 

It was also the place where I enjoyed the long rounds in the morning and afternoon as well as I would present to specialists. 

I made a good friend with a medical officer who I still keep contact with albeit having left the posting. I enjoyed the days where I would be allocated to work with him. 

Having worked both in the general ward and nursery ward, the experiences were different but enjoyable nonetheless.

If there is a posting I wouldn’t mind repeating, it is the Paediatric Posting and I hope you do or will or had enjoyed this posting just as much as I did.

Related Posts:

• Surviving A Month Of Tagging In My Fourth Posting – Surgery | Housemanship Diaries
• Appreciation Towards The Medical Officers (MOs) – Housemanship Diaries
• My Last Day In Paediatrics As A House Officer
• Working In The Nursery Ward – Housemanship Diaries
• My Downfall In Surgery Which Led To My Extension – Housemanship Diaries
• 1 Year Of Housemanship Update – Housemanship Diaries
• Another Good Advice I Will Remember For The Longest Time – Housemanship Diaries
• The Time I Turned A Baby’s Hand Blue – Housemanship Diaries
• My Experience In General Paediatrics (Paeds 2B) – Housemanship Diaries
• Enjoying The Journey – Housemanship Diaries
• Housemanship Diaries: Surviving the Tagging Period in Paediatrics

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Sometime ago, I wrote about “The Small Change I Hope My Blog Would Make“, whereby I mentioned that with every article written and uploaded on this website would spread some form of comfort and positivity, especially within the community of junior doctors.

Perhaps I’m just simply being optimistic. I have to. That keeps me going, even on difficult days to the point it has become a default reflex for me.

Nonetheless, I love to write and sometimes I do get lost that I tend to deviate from the topic at times and divert back to the main topic at hand.

Living in this world which has its flaws and problems at every corner, I try to see the good aspect of things and thus, I try to end my articles on a good note or some encouragement, which is mainly directed at me actually. However, I never know who may be reading my written articles and perhaps just need some encouragement and kind words at the moment.

It serves as a “happy ending” just like a fairytale in which I escape in one too many times.

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Do you or your family make any special dishes for the holidays?

I am half-Filipino. My mother is from the Philippines and my father, a Malaysian, like me.

Growing up, I was neither close to my mother’s or father’s side. However, between these two, I am somewhat culturally inclined towards my mother’s side through some of her simple heartwarming dishes that she cooked growing up as well as some of the Filipino songs she would play or the Tagalog words she would incorporate in her daily conversations.

Two of the simple dish my mother would prepare would be pasta or bolognese spaghetti and Buko salad.

1. Spaghetti

Originally, spaghetti is a form of pasta and a staple food of traditional Italian cuisine.

However, it also serves as one of the staple Filipino dishes.

My mother would usually make a batch of bolognese spaghetti occasionally and on New Year’s Eve, as that is what my maternal grandmother used to do while she was growing up.

It is rather simple and easy as well and she would go crazy with the cheddar cheese topping. Over the years, as she started to dwell into vegetarianism and eventually become one for a lifetime, she created her own variation of a vegetarian version.

2. Buko Salad

Adapted from https://www.kawalingpinoy.com/buko-salad/

“Buko” salad is a form of Filipino fruit salad.

“Buko” refers to a young coconut fruit and “Buko” salad consists of the young coconut itself.

It is a simple dish which has many variations.

My mother would usually mix with nata de coco of various colours, avoiding the colourless ones, corn, a huge can of mix fruits and other canned fruits before finally mixing it with evaporated milk, cheddar cheese and “buko”.

She will the separate it into containers and freeze it and have it on New Year’s Eve.

Growing up, my family would be seated at the dining table with other dishes prepared on New Year’s Eve for us to dine in together at midnight and every year, these two dishes remains a staple.

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