Barack who?

Well now let's see. It's ten days since I last wrote anything on here so I must have an immense backlog of amusing anecdotes right? Wrong. But here's what I've got, in no particular order:

A passport disaster; a passport near-disaster; more of the usual pie-in-the-sky plans; an excuse; a complaint; sundry news items; a chance meeting; another complaint; a compliment.

I'm now back in Bangkok after my working holiday at home, and on the whole it was a successful trip. Progress was made on the work front - I now have a large chunk of the extra work completed so my Platform trip is back on the cards. Since Lyn was in Uni every day I was better off working anyway. I'd only have spent the week watching telly on the couch, drinking Gin and eating chocolates.

While we're on trips, I was wandering through Dubai International Airport on my way back to BKK, looking for a toilet without a queue of 30 blokes looking tense and clenching their multicultural cheeks together, when I noticed some people I know. It was none other than Heather and Charlie, parents of my mate John's missus Hilary. I took some photo's so Hil, if you're reading, here's me with your folks and their mates (names forgotten but might be Sheila and Brian?? Apologise if that's wrong when you see them) in transit to Australia for some back-packing:

In case you're wondering, I eventually did find a queue-less bog. I ask you, that airport is a major hub with hundreds, thousands, millions of people passing through every day, and there must be a grand total of six traps in the whole place. Which halfwit designed that? I exaggerate of course.

I've nearly completed the previously mentioned pop video of my trip home from the office. If I finish this epic early enough I'll work on it tonight.

I'm listening to 6music as I write, as usual, but this time I'm listening live. That means I have Nemone and her endless twaddle between tunes. I love the music she plays so it's not too bad. They can't all be Gedeon Coe.

Since the music informs/inspires what I write, I should put names of tracks into my blog entries, maybe in blue text, to give a better flavour to the prose. What you think? Here's an example:

Paris is Burning by Ladyhawke

I forgot to relate one particular story about our last day on the platform. The more I think about this story the more I realise how lucky I am. When we finally got the call to go back to the helipad, things got a bit hectic. I was racing up the stairs with my bags when I passed a Thai cleaner on his way down. He let me get a few steps past then called me back, looked closely at me, and then handed me my passport.....! It seems it had dropped out of my pocket in the cabin when I got dressed that morning. That means I did not have it with me the first and second times we went to the helipad so I came as close as I possibly could to leaving without it and jeopardising my subsequent trip to the UK. What a muppet, and what a lucky muppet at that.

While we're on passports, I was packing to come back to Thailand on Saturday and realised I didn't have my passport to hand. At that moment wifey appears with one of her sternest expressions(SO cute) and hands me the soggy remains of said item, fresh from my newly washed shirt pocket. Riffling through the pristine layers of papier mache, I realised that my lovely multiple entry 12-month Visa was no more. Just a couple of splotches of blue ink remained. I took a chance and travelled anyway, worrying all the way here about being sent back on the next flight. Sure enough, on handing the still-soggy item over at immigration I was treated to wails of "Cannot, sir" and whisked off to a side room. However, and before they got a chance to snap on the rubber gloves, I pointed out that I have an address in Bangkok and I'm not a sex-tourist (sexpat, as they are known) so they let me in on the understanding that I get a new passport and visa while I'm here. I've been to the Embassy today and paid the exorbitant fee, so let's hope I have a nice new (dry, flat) passport before I have to go back to the platform, otherwise they wont let me on t'chopper.

Over the Hill by Alessi's Ark

What else can I tell you? Hmm, let's see. Oh yes, the complaint. Can anyone tell me why I suffer so much with trapped wind on long flights? I kid you not, every time I exit the thunderbox these days I'm greeted with amused/surprised/disgusted faces from everyone within three rows, all of them wondering how I managed to smuggle such a loud kazoo-based PA system onto the flight, and where I've concealed it about my person.

I reckon it's those white bread rolls that do it.

Release the Pressure - Leftfield (topical, guffaw.)

While we're on excuses, the regulars will have read my promise on this here blog to buy the beer last Friday with some delight, and as it happens a lot of my friends turned up at the allotted pub at the allotted hour. All that was missing was me. I got an irate text the next day from Martin when I finally emerged, tired but elated, from the marital bed. You know how it is when you have a gorgeous ginger-headed woman at home and you haven't seen a western woman for seven weeks...sorry folks, no contest, but I do regret breaking my promise. I'll try to make it up next trip home. No promises though.

That's enough for this time. Be good. Watch out for my pop video.