under the sea…
And sawadee kah from Bangkok (just) where I’m currently holed up in what is apparently (according to somebody, somewhere) the fifth best airport hotel in the world, from which part one of my journey home will begin in twenty four hours or so. It is currently just over a week since I set off from first home and then Kings Cross after a brief (and as it turned out, ill-advised) pause for tea and cake with Daisy; after leaving her to it and jumping on the Piccadilly Line it transpired some time later (and with visibly increasing panic to more than just me) that it was well on the way to eight pm and I and the train were stuck, suitcase in hand, at Hounslow Central for what eventually turned out to be the better part of forty five minutes. There’s a sentence I hope I never have to type again.
Signal failure at Holborn apparently, which I can only thank God didn’t happen half an hour later than it did. Just as I was becoming convinced I was going to miss my flight (and having rung not one or two but five local taxi firms to have only one answer and quote me a half hour wait) the thing began to shift and after a pure-dumb-luck twenty minute whizz through check in and security I made Gate 28 with possibly fifteen minutes to spare – no dinner, no shopping and certainly no Yo Sushi record attempt. And no thanks to the three selfish twats people directly ahead of me in the bag screening queue who had convinced themselves somewhere along the line that the prominent signs requesting laptops and so on be removed from the carry-on and placed separately in the plastic trays to be looked at properly did not apply to them, and held everything up by a good five minutes further. Grrr.
All was fine in the end, and after a few hours, a quick plane-change at Muscat and an only slightly longer stop in Bangkok on the way out I arrived in Koh Samui shortly after 7am last Saturday morning wishing that every flight I ever take for the rest of my life could be with Bangkok Airways (something of a tall order given my most regular fly-to destination is the Isle of Man) and the bona fide holiday relaxing commenced – see pics! As the pre-organised diving classes were starting the following afternoon, the day of arrival consisted of doing very little bar exploring my very nice surroundings (the pool, restaurant and yoga studio followed by the huge beanbag bed on my terrace being the main points of interest).
Diving-wise, after a couple of hours in a swimming pool to get the idea, I was amazed to find that (nearly all) fear was forgotten and the following day after an early start to get to the boat, within a few minutes of donning my slinky short sleeved black wetsuit (far more flattering than you’d expect) and what seemed on dry land to be a couple of hundredweight of kit which made me feel like Neil Armstrong, I was gliding about happily amongst shoals of lovely colourful fishes in my Factor 30 oblivious to the difference between water resistant and waterproof (I didn’t quite get to that part of Sunblock For Dummies) the result being that I now appear to be wearing pink opera length gloves a’la Marilyn Monroe performing Diamonds Are A Girl’s Best Friend or (if you’d rather) one of those vintage Vivienne Westwood T-shirts with the boobs on the front, in off-white. Next time it may be safest to just fetch along a two inch brush and carefully anoint myself with a thick coat of B&Q all-purpose gloss before heading for the waves.
Having also not been aware that I was somewhat strapped for time and being far too knackered after two exciting dives, lots of underwater exercises and a lengthy swim back to the boat for lunch whilst being chucked about like a ragdoll by waves I eventually decided to postpone the idea of finishing the Open Water diver certificate – the final bits consisted of a 200m swim and a ten minute float and whilst the latter appealed slightly as an opportunity for a sneaky rest, the thought of the former was more than I could bear, thus I politely declined in favour of returning to the boat for tea, watermelon and spicy chicken wings before digging out the trusty Kindle and assuming a recumbent position for the remainder of the afternoon, bar a brief cooling off dog-paddle whilst the snorkellers were around doing whatever it is snorkellers do (never seen the appeal, meself?) I do actually have some rather lovely photos taken by the dive photographer to mark the First Dive occasion (and also the second and third – this one down to eighteen metres – occasions), but as they’re on a CD and my trusty Vaio lacks the requisite equipment to deal with it, they will have to wait a few days…
So to Bangkok, where I plan to spend a day sightseeing, getting overexcited about the Skytrain and trying not to bankrupt myself in the massive shopping centres before I start the long journey back just after 2am local time – I will be home late on Sunday and am taking Monday (and possibly Tuesday) off. The rest of the week is slowly filling up (and apologies to those who haven’t had an email answer yet – I’m getting to it as soon as I finish this), but I will be around in Scarborough until the 31st of the month after which Derry, a new destination completely, beckons – yay!
Update once I’m back. And for anybody who read the title and now has the song in their head, here it is…
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