Whilst sitting here half watching Chelsea taking QPR apart (6-1 as we speak), I will take this opportunity to post up a few more images with a small accompanying text.  You are being spoiled today, dear reader.

Big bike.

I have mentioned many times earlier about hanging out with bikers here, and they tend to favour the place I live as a place to party.  This leads to some pretty interesting nights, as you can imagine.

Another big bike.

I don't know if you have read in an earlier post about my mate Bjorn who was one of the bikers injured quite badly by the killer trike on the big Bayawan charity run.  If not, I'll recap briefly.  Bjorn, one of the outsiders M.C. Dumaguete chapter was taken out by a rider from another club whilst sitting at the side of the road about to attend to a sick bike.  He is a really nice guy and ended up flying to Europe the next day with 59 stitches in his leg to pick up a ship where he is a senior officer.  I had advised him against it but he said he had to and off he went.

The story, however, does not end there and only serves to show that when your luck is out, it is really out.

And another.

Bjorn made his ship and was working on the principle that he didn't have to be too mobile as there are lifts (elevators) between all the decks, so how is this for a piece of bad luck?  Whilst climbing out of his bunk in the middle of the Atlantic, the ship caught a completely freak wave which threw him across the cabin breaking off a small portion of a vertebra at the top of his spine.  Cue helicopter medevac to Oslo, couple of weeks in hospital and back here to the Phils without too much permanent damage hopefully.  All this in a few weeks, how's your luck?  I am reminded of an old blues song I heard from Cream (although it is older) with the line, "If it wasn't for bad luck, I wouldn't have no luck at all."

Bjorn decided some sort of "glad to still be alive" party might be in order and it was arranged for a Sunday afternoon in my place.  No expense was spared.

Just look at this beauty.

Alan, the non-patched guy I mentioned earlier with whom I had been riding on the fateful day, has a farm and associated catering business.  His dear Filipina wife is an outstanding cook as well as being a lovely lady.  Al will barbecue a lechon as it is called here, to your specifications (plain, spicy, barbecue, whatever) and bring all the associated trimmngs as you can see in the next image.

Get stuck in, boys.

Actually, the image does not show all the food but it gives a pretty good idea.  Here you see my mates Gerry and Roar (yes, that is his real name, he's Norwegian) getting ready to tuck in.  Yet again it was a great day, there were members of several clubs there with no animosity at all and I was made to feel most welcome.  The bikers here are a very sociable bunch and I feel totally at home with them.

My new Filipina girlfriend!

It was a great day out as indeed every day seems to be here.  I'll finish you off here with a little something that wasn't actually on the menu that day but which Al makes on contract for Mac.  In fairness, his good lady wife makes them but you know what I mean.  These little beauties are called firecrackers and they certainly live up to their name.

Philippino firecrackers.

Firecrackers are whole (unseeded) chillies wrapped in filo pastry with a few other bits and bobs inside and then fried.  They are very popular here.  I have mentioned that I have a fairly asbestos mouth and the constitution of a horse and I don't actually find them that hot, although every so often you will get a rogue one that is rather more nuclear than the rest.  I have seen men breaking into a sweat at the first mouthful.  Mac has an interesting way of eating these.  He removes the chilli and eats the outside shell which I think defeats the purpose somewhat.  I normally find myself hoovering up the discarded chillies which is quite fun.  The general consensus here is that I am quite mad, can't imagine why.

Got to go now, time for town, so I'll try to post again a little later.

Stay tuned.