The Jock caught me up in Bangkok, apparently refreshed after his Vang Vieng experience. We had a few beers that evening, and decided to head to Ko Tao, where we'd catch up with The Colonel. Him and myself had swapped mails a few times. I apologised for sounding a little patronising in what I'd written about him when we parted. I'd meant to say simply that he needed to go off and do hs own thing, see what he was made of and the like. It didn't come across like that, but I'm not ashamed to hold my hand up. Shit happens, and you can get on each other's nerves when you're in each other's pockets. So, slate wiped clean, I was looking forward to catching up and see what sort of trouble he'd got himself into.
The overnight bus was uneventful. Well, aside from Jocky getting the eye off a ladyboy opposite him. Having told him off for playing a crappy game on his phone, tinny music obligatory, every time Jocky looked in his direction he simpered. I think he may like a bitof discipline. Jocky was nonplussed. Not to mention noncommital.
Having arrived at Chumphon for the catamaran, we had an hour to kill. Killing mosquitoes and eating culinary delights Little Chef would have been ashamed to profer. Two quid for a manky tuna sandwich, madam? I'll take two. I also loved the fact that the two rotund sandwich-makers didn't even make eye contact, and put my change on the counter 6 inches away from my upturned palm. How utterly charmless. Didn't like tourists, perhaps? So I asked if she had some spicy chili sauce, which she passed me "To drown the taste" I smiled. This country.
A quick doze on the boat was required. Not for me, but for the Korean chap who insisted on using my shoulder as a pillow. That didn't bother me, it was more the open mouth catching flies and curling my shirt collar with his rotten sleepy breath. A few further, and firmer, nudges in the ribs rectified this situation, though. Otherwise I'd have hurled in his lap. Violently...