Valley of the Dolls.

Following a bus journey from Semporna to Kota Kinabalu, we treated ourselves to the only decent thing going in KK - a meal at Little Italy. Funny how you eventually start craving the bland after t.d.s. chilli. This was a welcome relief after a luke-warm dollop we'd been served up at a roadside cafe, which resulted in stomach cramps and a frequently tuneful bottom for Andrew. As if we are resticted by a tight daily agenda, my travelling companion was, as always, keen to be "getting on." In a bid to reach some Thai islands before our departure to Antipodean lands, a high-pressure flight from KK back to Bangkok had to be endured. Firstly, airport security measures seemed a little lacadisical, which had Andy twitching and on a mission to determine the baggage x-ray policy from someone official.

Secondly, we were kept waiting in the departure lounge for an hour, while we listened to the storm kicking up outside. When we were finally allowed to board, we had to sit on a silent plane, shrouded by lightning whilst being buffeted around the landing strip by the forceful wind. The only audible noise above the gale was Andrew trying to eat his hands, while we waited for permission to fly. Poor Andy was in a terrible state and there was a definitely lack of any booze to ease our transition through the stormy skies. Next time I will do as my mother does and have a couple of minitures in my bag. Except, according to the news of the last few days, this kind of emergency measure is going to be prohibited from now on. What is the world coming to? After a pained silence, the captain finally spoke and the seatbelt signs were switched off. A couple of hours worth of switching them on and off, the turbulence was behind us as we landed peacefully back in The City of Angels, which by comparison, seemed like the safest place on earth.

It was nice to be back in Bangkok and we straight headed for our original haunt - Soi Rambutri, to find the place much quieter than our previous visit. Much less intimidating second-time round, we had a very tasty yellow curry and a bottle of Singha (how we've missed you both), which led to a surprise run-in with an old friend of Andy's. Julian has been away travelling for 3 years and was in the process of getting hammered. We talked for ages about Brighton and before we knew it it was nearly 4 am. Considering our usual bed-time of 9 or 10 pm, we really felt wild.

Still on my Bland-Mission, I've been craving a baked potato since the terrible disappointment of Vang Vien. If you recall, I received eight small potatoes cut in half and topped with tuna and tomato sauce. I couldn't have been more dismayed. Anyway, we did what some might construe as a Terrible Thing. We went to the English Caf!! Festooning the menu of "Oh My Cod!!" were the culinary masterpieces such as scotch egg salad, quiche Lorraine, liver and bacon, full English brekkies, cod 'n' chips and mushy peas! I only wish we had planned our time better, for on a Sunday, they show the Eastenders omnibus! Would you believe it?! When my baked spud with cheese and homemade coleslaw arrived, I was over the moon. Andy's bacon buttie didn't quite hit the spot, but he was still spasming from his recent botulism ingestion. Did I mention that they have HP sauce?!

The next day we went in search of a modern art gallery which no longer exists. This also meant we had to suffer the misfortune that is the Khao San Road. Two months on and it remains as dreadful as ever. This infamous place exists as a seething mass of neon-strip of Western bars, hellish guesthouses, food vendors selling festering-all-day Pad Thai and banana pancakes, fishermans trousers and what has collectively become known as "wicker shit." The encompases all sorts of henous souvenirs for 10p a go. More disturbingly, "Girls-World" type dolls display fake dredlocks and braids. Basically it stinks, there are rats and roaches scurrying about the bins come nightfall, when the travellers are out in force, huddled round buckets of booze and Red Bull. More worrying are the number of traveller -types who frequent this street and utilise all of its services. Sharing similarities with our home town, Bangkok houses its fair share of people who seem to have lost their way in the world, but continue to desperately search for direction in a bottle of Chang or a spot of Yaa Baa. "Crazy Drug" is a Thai version of amphetamine which makes you go long-term mental. The police are frequent visitors to the Khao San, always peering over wasted travellers and poking them with sticks.

Time to escape to the oasis which is The Paragon! Costing around 10,ooo,ooo Baht to construct, it's a great place to shop and stare in amazement at Nana couples. These are the ever-fascinating phenomena comprised of the aged Western bloke who has dyed his last remaining strands of hair to achieve gorgeousness. Usually in the 50-70 age bracket, accompanying him round the expensive shops is the beautiful Thai girl some 30 or 40 years his junior. The cinema treated us to a bizarre but enjoyable "Lady of the Water," and a bite of sushi was enhanced by being seated at the bar next to a brilliant Nana couple. I haven't been brave enough to get a decent photo yet, but I'll keep trying!!

We're now on the island of Ko Chang, in the Gulf of Thailand. We're staying on Lonely Beach, which isn't quite as lonely as I'd like it to be. The weather is grey and intermittantly rainy, which makes popping to the beach a bit tiresome. Great moment yesterday though - there I was, reading my book in the shade (this time an Indonesian prison tale - brilliant), when I saw this thing appear out of the corner of my eye. I didn't know what the hell it was initially, as it was beyond the dimensions of anything black and hairy I've seen before. Turned out to be the FATTEST DOG IN THE WORLD. Not only that but it was mangey and flea-ridden, but it was too fat to scratch itself properly. It also must have been extremely hot and it had dreadful trouble walking on the beach, its pendulous teats trailing in the sand. What a situation to be in! For a time, she made the perfect beach-companion (I've always wanted a fat friend to sunbathe with), but I didn't feel entirely comfortable with her in such close proximity to my lovely new towel. Our partnership heralded much attention and people seemed to assume she belonged to me!!

It's a nice little spot with an adequate beach, though you can't really swim because there's a strong undercurrent. At least for the time being, Andy has stopped talking about living Under the Sea. Our hotel is cool and cheap with a DVD player in situ!! Finally, we get to watch Andy's birthday DVDs, namely the Toolbox Murders, random Japanese horror and some confusing Matt Dillon-in-Cambodia saga. What was I thinking? Well, we have seen virtually every film going, so it gets tricky. We'll stick around a few days to see if the weather improves. There are some nice little places to hang out in, like the Chilli Garden (now fully recovered from Bland Mission) who do proper Chai and all sorts. It attracts its fair-share of bongo-playing 18-year olds with bits of bone in their ears, but they seems easy enough to swerve at present. If only they would stop that nonsense of swinging those balls-in-long-socks around their heads. If anybody knows the name of this ridiculous festival passtime, I'd love to hear it. Double prize if you know the POINT of all that infinite twirling. Four days here is enough, we're going on another mission to find our paradise. Bloody crusties, they ruin everything...