Team Thailand part III

Birthday chez Bangkok

The next day dawned upon 14th May, Miss Custard's twenty second birthday, and despite a late and disturbed Bangkok night's sleep, Misses G and D were up and ready to join the birthday girl for a morning swim. An overcast Bangkok sky provided a grey canopy above; despite this some classy fellow Brits were polka-dot bikini clad, armed with cans of Heineken and optimistically laid out on loungers. Very willing to ruin the sophistication which we were attempting to assume, we sought to ignore the intricacies of their conversation, and as Kate pleaded, "Sam, be sophisticated, we're in the rooftop pool," perhaps she was speaking to more people than one!

Back chez us, we donned birthday suits and hastily wrapped our makeshift presents and cards before we all assembled downstairs and piled into more technicolour taxis. Crepes and Co was our destination. Having been recce'd par Chloe, we knew this was a surefire bet for a brilliant brunch; but nothing could have prepared us for the quality and quantity of breakfast foods that we were to consume that morning. Over pancakes, tea, eggs, toast, croissants, juice, bagels and more, we heard travelling tales from taxis in India to waterskiing in Sri Lanka, Taj Mahal adventures and hostel horrors. "When we were in..." became a tagline - but far from tiring us with anecdotal evidence, these stories only increased our thirst for travelling and keenness to get down to the islands where we hoped our pseudo-trav times would increase in authenticity and adventure.

Suitably replete, we felt more indulgence was in order. Three of our party piled through a bright and breezy doorway, and were encouraged into a bliss of relaxation from some expert Thai massaging hands. Birthday Girl and I crossed the street past some chic interiors stores and scrumptious treat street sellers and into a softly lit haven, complete with candles, lilies and pure white-clad therapists. Our feet were those most deserving of attention after a Spring of too early flip-flops on the tube, and attention they got. Tootsies suitably preened, we tiptoed back to our buddies and then taxied back to Buddy. Some decamped to True, as Madam M and I had a catch-up in a dimly lit hotel room, gossiping as we watched the rain thunder outside.

Finally we admitted defeat and realised we would have to brave the bad Bangkok weather if we were ever to enjoy a coffee and cake at everyone's favourite internet café. Watching the sheets of water from a doorway of safety, we spied travs and tourists in various stages of being drenched and spent ten minutes or so critiquing the fashions of aforementioned people-watched people. Same Same ... But Different t-shirts are clearly in this traveller season and while flip-flops are standard issue, they are treacherous wear in thunderous conditions, as many Kho San dweller found as they squishily sashayed down the soggy street. Eventually we gathered up our courage, and swiftly skipped through the tropical shower to the warmth, dryness and beauty of True - a king amongst internet cafés. While sipping coffee and making contact with the UK, a plan was concocted for that evening. Lonely Planet raved about a little joint named The Pickle Factory, which sounded simply perfect for some birthday jollity, so we settled on that, Kate rather relishing (pun intended) the prospect.

After glamming up to a suitable degree we, once again, assume tried and tested taxi teams and pile into the vibrant vehicles. Determined not to experience SupperclubGate II, we come armed with maps and have a Soi in mind - but a wild goose chase seems to be unavoidable in this town of lost taxis. We loop around again and again, up and down streets and sois, never managing to happen upon this, presumably mythical, restaurant. Finally we decide to pay up and hop out, giving up on this pickle place - a riverside meal is the plan B that we settle for. Softly lit, with a waterside aspect, our chosen place is full of Thais and choc a bloc with shabby chic furniture, but as time ticks on I cannot help but think of our early start and that bad other girl kicks in, complete with indiscriminate sulks and tired tetchiness, possibly only alleviated by the swanky Del-boy-esque drink Sam is served ["I'm never drinking orange juice any other way"]. Companions, consider this an apology...