A real dilemma today. Do we take the 14 hour overnight bus up to Bangkok for a tenner, or the one and a half hour flight for twelve quid?
Call us crazy, but we opted to fly.
Met up with one of my old motorbiking buddies in the evening. Paul, or Grubby as we used to call him (it's a take on his name, not his table manners) has been living in Bangkok for a couple of years, working as a Creative Director at one of the big Advertising agencies.
Not that he's let success go to his head mind; driving a flash Merc to the swankiest bar in town (members only, Wend refused entry because of her flip-flops), with his stunning girlfriend Jo in the passenger seat.
He was horrified at the price of our digs - twelve quid - at the amusingly named 'Wendy House', refusing to believe there was such a vulgar concept as budget accommodation anywhere within walking distance of his high-flying world.
Anyway, the door staff eventually let Wend in as long as she promised to behave herself, and we had an entertaining evening talking about old motorbike trips and what all the disbanded gang are up to now (fascinating for the girls, as you can imagine).
1 comment:
She looks thrilled.
Post a Comment