Just reading the new printed novel/e-book by ex-Lammaite Andrew Doig, aka Doggy, the Lamma Fun Day founder: "Wee Davvy".

It's a world-traveling yarn and contains probably the best and most evocative descriptions of Lamma I've ever seen in a work of fiction, accurate down the tiniest details as Doggy's lived here for a long time and he was a deep insider in the local bar/party scene. He emailed me:

"You'll see that the book starts in Australia, in a small banana farming town called Tully, and moves to Cairns. Following that it moves to Hong Kong in chapter 10 which kicks in with a very raucous junk trip out of central... and trip that just happens to end on Lamma. Chapter 11 is then set on Lamma - as the main character wakes up there, not really knowing where he is, and ends up in the Deli Lamma. William, the lead, does of course end up living on Lamma and another very much Lamma set chapter is 18, with a nice little night time wander down past PowerStation beach."

Here are a few quotes, with his permission, from a past-hangover breakfast in the Deli Lamma, a real-life, amazingly detailed and insightful tribute to this former, highly popular place and its guests, about 10 years ago, from a very British, er, Scottish perspective. You might recognise quite a few of the Lamma personality types, some of them still living here:

"The sign out front said Deli Lamma.
An old woman selling veg had baskets spread on the ground and I had to sidle round. The sun glinted off the sea. A thick smoggy haze hung, making any other islands invisible.

At the back of the Deli, there was a terrace over the seawall crowded with young drinking Westerners. She wasn’t among them. From this spot, the bay curved around, and it would be simple to make a path across the backs of the restaurants and shops to the pier. She wasn’t on that route; she had gone inside. I squeezed across the terrace. A few faces looked up, hoping to see a friend. The back entrance led into a narrow corridor. I stepped past the open door of the kitchen, where a roar and sizzle went up from a flaming cooker, then it was cool and dim among the seats, and hardly occupied.
...
Before I could respond, a tall, older guy, grey haired and wiry, stepped into the restaurant and said hello to Beata. He was pulling a dog on a string, a fat thing with a large body and disproportionately short legs. The waitress chased them both out, saying to go around the back, not in the restaurant.
...
Our conversation was often interrupted by the door of the Deli Lamma opening and some head sticking through saying, ‘Hey, Beata. How you doing?’ or ‘Hi sweetie, I thought you were heading to the beach.’ Bodies drifted through the restaurant on their way to the terrace, stopping to chew the fat, dropping me out of the loop, though Beata was kind enough to introduce me with, ‘This is an old friend of mine.’ I was flattered, a friend, and part of a past that none of those new-timers knew anything about.

Beata’s friends looked fresh-faced, like the worst their bodies had faced in the last twenty-four hours was a dose of camomile tea and a lavender bodyscrub before breakfast. I began to wonder if I was right for Lamma. Beata had immediately blown my cover – I really was just a shifty, drinksoaked Scottish bloke. I didn’t think it would take too long for her friends to twig on to me and shut me out. A couple of those who came in joined us at the table. They talked about finding a good yoga teacher, about tree planting, about some charity fun day they were planning and things that seemed way out of my league in the clean-living, making-a-difference stakes.

Outside the big glass window at the front of the restaurant, crowds of people continued to pass. I caught a glimpse of something that flitted between legs, scuttling past, something in a hurry. I almost bolted after him to escape the potpourri reek of the fit and healthy, escape back to some beer and debauchery, but I was continually drawn to Beata. She was luminous. The teak lustre of her hair glowed even in the partial light of the interior, sucking in the burn of the afternoon sun blazing outside.

So I hung on, wanting to have her company, hoping that I could build myself into a corner of her life, and, as the day wore on, other friends started to drift in, ones who had clearly had a longer night and were dragging themselves out for some recovery sustenance. The group at our table padded round with a blend of the shiny, happy people and the dirty and hoarse, struggling with daylight. Beata got on as well with the scruffnecks as she did with the hippy crowd. The conversation moved to a recent Lamma party all of them had been at and everyone bigged it up like some kind of mad beach rave – on all night, banging big tunes, and everyone screaming as the sun came up. Perhaps not everyone on Lamma was as pristine as I first thought. Perhaps there was a chance I could fit in. There might be a place for me in Beata’s world.
...
Steve caught the attention of the waitress. ‘A Bloody Mary please, Joyce. And make it fiery, would you?’ Then said generally to the table, ‘Alright everyone?’

He shuffled around, pulling out a pack of tobacco and rolling a ciggie. Strands scattered on the table and poked out the end of his loosely packed rollie. A fringe of long unwashed hair hung over his face as he worked. Beata caught his attention at the end of the job and introduced me.

Steve studied my face. ‘Here, weren’t you at the Tinhead last night?"

Check out http://weedavy.co.uk for more info, videos of Doggy reading from his novel,
his blog http://weedavy.wordpress.com,
Launch Party, Sep 26: http://www.facebook.com/events/111347319016432/,
Make Wee Davy Viral Day: Sep 27: http://www.facebook.com/events/445887655463536/

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Doggy writes:

"TWO-FOOT SCOTSMAN GOES VIRAL!

Wee Davy is a new novel written by ex-Hong Kong resident, Andrew Doig.

‘But what are you Davy?’
‘I’m just yer wee big bollixed pal.’

What would you do if you found a foul-mouthed, sex-mad two-foot tall Scottish goblin in your washing machine? For shy young backpacker William, saving the wee man's life opens up a world of possibilities: new adventures, new goals, more sex. But, as Wee Davy's behaviour gets ever more outrageous and out of control, at what cost?

Conceived while he was picking bananas in Australia, and written when he returned home to his native Scotland after his own backpacking adventures to study for his Masters Degree, Andrew Doig's debut novel is funny, poignant, joyous and tragic. Doig is an ex-Hong Kong resident who has based a large section of his book on his time living on Lamma Island. The book's already bagged a top prize in the Telegraph's "Novel In A Day" competition, and has received nothing but five-star reviews on Amazon.

Using skills honed in his day job, creating on-line courses as an Associate Professor at Southampton Solent University in the UK, Andrew is using new media, including Facebook and Twitter, to promote the book, climaxing in a "Make Wee Davy Viral Day" on September the 27th. Visitors to his web site, http://weedavy.co.uk can see and hear Andrew reading extracts, and even interact with him.

Andrew Doig lived and worked in Hong Kong for the 8 years prior to his return to the UK to study Creative Writing. He was in that time an active member of the literary scene in Hong Kong, a participant in the Hong Kong Writers’ Circle and Poetry Out Loud and founder of the Lamma Writers’ Forum."

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Click here for Lamma-zine stories and recent Lamma Spotlights of the Week:
Photo, Video, Person, Wildlife, Bird, Artwork.