I went to have a look for James, the vicar’s lad. I’d felt a little bad that I’d left him in the bar with a bemused Thai and Northern Ireland’s puny version of Begbie from Trainspotting. I knew he was thinking about leaving that morning. His brother was off to Ko Tao, but he was debating whether to hang around for the South Star party in a few nights.
So I went to the bungalows they were staying at, and asked at reception. There was an English couple checking in. I asked if the two English guys had checked out, and the receptionist scanned for their names. The female half of the couple asked if the lads were from Birmingham. After I confirmed, she told me they’d gone around 20 minutes ago. So I’d just missed them. She asked me if it was important, as they had a scooter and could run me to the pier if necessary. I thanked them, and just explained I wanted to say Ta-ra, and why I hadn’t done so last night. The girl asked about this Irishman.
“Does he wear a vest and tracksuit bottoms all the time?”
“And dodgy tattoos?” (They are, indeed, bad)
“That’ll be him…wispy beard like he can’t grow one?”
“He’s an arrogant bastard. We stayed at Hornbill for a couple of days and he was hanging around. I asked if he could tell us where Hippy Bar was. He was very vague and said ‘Well…when you’ve been on the island a while…’ and walked off.”
I had to laugh. I’ll have a look on Amazon; maybe send Cocknor a book to give him food for thought. How To Win Friends And Influence People. Or perhaps the memoirs of Johnny ‘Mad Dog Adair’ would be more suitable? Just to wind him up, of course.