Much of my work on Myanmar over the years has involved research on, and analysis of, the country's political and security environments. For a change and relief, almost, I would occasionally explore aspects of the country's history and popular culture. However, every now and again someone would say something, or something would happen, which sparked memories of my two and a half years living in Rangoon during the 1970s. This often led to excursions back in time to explain, even if only to myself, quirky and unusual phenomena that made my time in Myanmar so memorable.

As I have discussed elsewhere, in their memoirs world statesmen have tended not to give much attention to developments in Myanmar, even if they made extravagant statements about the country when in office. Also, when former diplomats have written about their postings to Yangon few have dwelt in depth on professional matters, relating for example to political events and bilateral exchanges with the local officials. Most have favoured personal reminiscences, focusing on curious aspects of the local scene, unusual cultural practices, and strange phenomena that, true or not, were likely to add some local colour and interest to their publications.

Some of these accounts of life in Myanmar have struck me as rather patronising. Also, I have wanted something that was more considered, and made a greater contribution to public knowledge about a country that has long been little known and poorly understood. However, when I came to jot down some of my own recollections of the country, I found it easier to understand the impulse to record amusing stories, rather than serious discussions. There was something about Myanmar, particularly in those days of Ne Win's inept and heartless socialist regime, which seemed to encourage irony, satire and parody.

Perhaps, as Lord Byron once wrote, “if I laugh at any mortal thing, ‘Tis that I may not weep”.