It was like because I was going away I wanted to push myself even more. Work myself to the ground. A holiday? I didn’t deserve that. I’d barely earned a penny. Bemused looks haunted me and the need to control everything whipped around my being. I was a storm of excitement, determination and guilt. I also knew that once immersed in the sun, that niggling desire to travel again would grab me by the heart and throw me to the middle distance, the place I find myself consistently dwelling in. The thought of my dark wooden table in my basement flat, no matter how many 60p daffodils in vases scattered about, may not match up to the thrill of the new, uncomfortable and inspirational. However, I didn’t want to rant on about this to Charlie. Even though I know an escapade, an adventure and a collection of moments that questioned his entire framework, would only benefit him. Everyday for him in his job, fulfills another vital section of his ambition. Just because I want to travel accompanied only by a netbook and photographs of Francois, doesn’t mean he wants to be my real life gallivant companion. Having said that, I know he wants to go travelling. But he is a realist. I guess.

Anyway, with this bumble of emotions and despite my million to do lists, we were disorganised. We hadn’t even sorted out Francois’s sitters and I had my Hep.A booster jab the day before. However, we made it to the airport and a man took Vez (le car) when we arrived and we trotted off to Thailand on the enormous plane. I watched four films and bawled my eyes out on each one. Then two documentaries, one on Fergie (Royal) and another I would class as a reality show; Ruby. An obese American lady making the decision about whether to wear a swimsuit in a hot tub. The series documents her weight loss. Horrendous. I cried for Fergie and Ruby. THAT’S what planes do to me. I also read Tatler magazine, which filled me with contradictory travel thoughts and left me aspiring for a yacht.

Pleasantly we got ‘the rush’ as we exited the plane. The heat blasted our faces off and the whiteness of our beings was really quite astounding. It’s not until you see yourselves in the sun that you realise how sun deprived your skin really is. Reflective.

We got there in the morning of Thailand’s March 5th. Hello Bangkok on this March 5th, why YES, I am so ready for your heady, steamy, consuming, penetrating heat rays. A fruit salad and a shower later, we were on the streets of the city, then a boat, then in an insane market full of puppies, fish heads, fabrics and incense. I immediately purchased a dress, something I can’t remember doing. Although I do remember thinking that Charlie is not a haggler; “It’s only 40p Hels, just pay more for it. Hels! Come on!”. This is not what you say in front of the seller. Also ate a Pad Thai, and was told that I was too large for a top I thought was really pretty; ‘For you, bigger!” said the woman. Why thanks. I looked to Charlie, “Errr, you’re not a Thai Hels, you know Thai’s ARE smaller. They’re small. Get over it NOW!”. I blamed the fatigue as I vowed to lose a stone by May and the jumpsuit I purchased for £6. Don’t worry, I only got those two dresses, and a weird top the whole holiday. Remember, I am NOT a big earner. £6 is loads to me right now, despite my retaining aspirational tastes, propogated by flippin’ Tatler and huge love for rooting through things for original bargains. £6 is…. you get the gist.

Later Charlie had a beer and I had a mojito which basically rendered us entirely useless, and we crawled up to our wooden bedroom to sleep and sweat. We’d been borderline mean to each other all day, I know I had death eye a few times, and he told me I was horrible for merely looking at him. Comical sometimes, ridiculous and annoying after a day. I normally like to thrash stuff out straightaway if we have issues, but clearly our only issue was fatigue and my non-Thai physique.


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