Might take a girl when I move on.

“… well, I’ve lived in Thailand for six months … Oh yes, I’ve done Muay Thai, ju jitsu, normal boxing,
MMA … in fact, I’m a boxing trainer … I’m a shaman and I know all the songs and I’ve got the outfit.”
It’s always good to have a taxi driver whose ego has been thrust out of him never to return via a spell in
the Amazon. Even when he is so chatty that he gets lost and then tries to snog your travelling
companion at the airport.
Yes, I’m back in my favourite place, and this time I’ve got a friend with me. She’s called Donna. I’ve
known her since the late ‘80s.
Last night, after the mammoth journey over here, we finally sat at a bar with a well-deserved glass of
wine. One was our limit because our aim is not to spoil a single second of this holiday by having a
hangover.
Around about our fourth glass of wine, we realised why each of us enjoys the other’s company so much.
It’s because we actively try to make the other one laugh and know exactly how to do it.
Perfect travel companions for one another.
And here we are on day one laughing our heads off about a very traumatic day that was exacerbated by
rude people showing off and kicking chairs and bashing knees and pushing into the endless customs
queue.
After Donna has chosen her outfit from her khaki, black, and white capsule wardrobe (she’s also got a
purple outfit but didn’t bring matching shoes because I told her not to pack loads of shoes. She ignored
me about the straighteners in 90% humidity; the medications for ailments that neither of us has, along
with a fire blanket; and Deliciously Ella oat bars in a land full of cheap and delicious breakfast buffets)
we’re going to go sightseeing around Bangkok, which I’ve never done in all the times I’ve visited here.
I’m excited to be in the city with someone for whom this is new and exotic experience. And I’m looking
forward to her proclamations of how lovely everything is, because my lovely old friend thinks most
things are lovely; even a doughy slab of aeroplane pizza and “creamy dreamy pudding.” She made up
that description. I called it claggy creamy generic aeroplane food.