90 minutes later they found themselves in Bangkok airport. Sadly the connecting flight was some 6 hours later so they hit the complementary stand in the airport lounge hard, very hard.
Just as the plane was called on to board a friendly froggy spilt his cup of iced tea all down Sir Ranulph. The stain started at his groin and headed down just in fact like someone who had wet himself. He was not impressed, neither were his fellow travellers.
The flight down was tolerably immemorable save for the rather surprising terminal built of wood at Koh Samui airport. Your correspondent doubts that it shares an architect with Terminal 5 at Heathrow.
In now traditional style they allowed themselves to be ripped off by a taxi driver for the trip into town who not only over-charged them but dropped them at the wrong guest house some half a mile away from the real one.
The first night in Chaweng took some very odd turns involving, in no particular order, an Irish bar (how tacky), a Thai Abba tribute band and a late supper of a skewer of chicken hearts.
Yesterday they went shopping. Now the guide books say always haggle however with typical British reserve Sir Ranulph simply could not face doing so. His first purchase were some flip-flops (the sandals have now been binned) and he duely agreed with the price first proposed. The Thai lad serving was so appalled at his lack of negotiation that he refused to accept the deal and knocked 50 Baht off the price, shameful. Since then Hoots has taken over all purchasing duties.
Today they had to move and having trekked through a monsoon they are now ensconced in a pair of huts on the beach and its still raining, just like Skegness it is.
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