We're Still Alive!!!

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Further to our previous entry, I have been reminde of two equally amusing incidents:

The first occured as we ate out ant infested breakfast as Garden ket-hao in Chiang Rai.

(We were still recovering, at this point from, the ruccus of orchestral music as we lay in that dubious place between consciousness and oblivion. Fortuantely for Lucy, she has not seen the original Wicker Man film and therefore did not make the utterly terrifying connection. She had not a clue what was going on as I quickly bolted the door.)

Finishing my water-egg, i looked up to see a rather comical figure stroll into the resteraunt area singing in fashion that I can affiliate with only two people in my knowledge: Antony Powell and Brian Blessed.

I could not make head or tail of this character. He insisted (in very good english) that he was 'nothing!', 'a liar!' and 'a crook!'. All this in between singing Rod Stuart classics...

Thouroughly convinced, allowed (for the sake of nothing better let me refer to him as Mr Powell) Mr Powell, to lead us though the markets of Chiang Rai to a Phamacist who was Mt Powell's 'BEST FRIEND!!!' (as, it seems, was most of Chiang Rai's population). After purchasing some very cheap and herbal insect repellent/treatment, he consiquently asked for a roll-up (which I was under strict orders not to lick: he reffered to this cigaqrette as his 'experience') then led us to the bus station and left without anything more than a hand-shake and a farewell in andarin wehich he had been learning. I felt rotten, as after taking us to the "VERY GOOD FRIEND PHARMACIST" I was under the prejudiced belief that he would ask for some kind of payment for his services.

Top chap, super!

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The second event was a briefer encounter with surreality.

Whilst sleeping in the Chiang Saen ket-hao, we awoke the sound of my phone ringing. After relieving myself of the determined belief that the noise was the sound of world war three , I answered the Phone in a sleepy and confused voice.

'Hello?'

'Hi, is Kristina there please' came the unforgettable tones of the one and only David Pitt (for those unnaqainted: David pitt is a team leader in my previous place of work. He was by boss... And Kristina Bentley, to whom I can only assume he was reffering, is one of my colleagues at work).

This was far too much for me and the most I could bring myslef to say was 'no...'. After a pause I began murmering in an indistinct fashion which, for a stiff-upper-lip, no nonsense, ex-navy, charchter like Mr Pitt was clearly too much and he cut off the call with 'well i've clearly got the wrong number...'.

I've said it before: Hastings Direct will never let me forget...

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Comments

[Nasty Nas (Dave)]

ahahaha, loving that last bit there :D Good old davey pitt.