Day 27 - Mr Simon, Been Expecting You

Woke up with a seriously throbbing big toe & no pain killers. We had breakfast & packed & went to reception around 10.20am to settle our bill & to get a lift to the speedboat port. We saw Lucas & our nice (but NOT so dim) girl who had successfully booked our speedboat & minibus tickets back to Hat Yai Bus Terminal & revealed she hails from our next stop, Songkhla.

We arrived at the speedboat port overly early, but as a result we were allocated plastic boarding cards No. 7 & 8. For 45 minutes we sweated in the shade until we were allowed to board & we managed to secure the co-pilot seats at the front of the boat. We felt like Lord & Lady Muck!

The 62 kilometres back to Pak Bara on the mainland took just 1 hour 20 minutes across a decidedly choppy sea. At Pak Bara we did not have to show any documentation & we ushered straight through to our minibus. The only annoyance was our fellow passengers were 2 Russian or similar families & they tried to reserve all the best seats on the minibus by putting their bags on the seats then disappeared to the toilet. We weren’t having that & we moved the bags off & sat on the seats we wanted. No one said anything when they returned.

It was a painful journey on the minibus. We were too squashed in & the driver was in no hurry, the complete opposite of our kamikaze driver on the way out. After dropping off the Ruskies at Hat Yai Airport we continued on ‘just the two of us’ to Hat Yai Bus Terminal at 3.30pm. We alighted & I ended up rushing to the toilet with loo roll in hand to do what was required in effectively a hole in the floor.

After that disaster had been averted, I walked back to the PM Residence to pay for our stay back on the 28th December 2021. Booking.com had been in touch with us to say that we hadn’t paid for our stay. We tried to pay for it remotely, but it was just too difficult. When I arrived at the PM Residence, the receptionist said “Mr Simon, been expecting you”. If they had been expecting me it was a shame that they hadn’t got the necessary paperwork ready! It took about 15 minutes for the very apologetic receptionist to find & complete the necessary paperwork & take my payment.

I returned to the bus terminal & Jackie went off in search of a bus to take us to Songkhla. No one spoke English, but after Jackie’s heroic efforts we eventually boarded a minibus to Songkhla bus station. We paid the driver for 3 seats (at 34 baht a seat) so we could stack our rucksacks on the 3rd seat. An absolute bargain for a 20 mile trip. The remainder of the minibus was filled with schoolgirls.

We arrived at Songkhla bus station which was empty except for one sole scooter taxi. We had no choice, but to explain to him where we needed to go. Once he finally understood, he ran off & returned in a car. The 1.6 mile journey to our hotel took less than 10 minutes & he charged us 140 Baht. We made his day.

Our A. List Hotel is the most stylish we have stayed in on this trip. After checking in & having to produce our UK vaccination certificates, we had a free coffee in the swish reception. To our amazement a western male guest appeared & when I said hello, he just grunted. Miserable tw^t.

Up in our room, Jackie had a bath & shaved her legs in the opulent bathroom whilst I examined the damage to my left foot. It had a bruised purple hue.

Around 7pm, we ventured out in search of food. The first suitable place was Oscar’s Bar, but ‘Miserable tw^t’ was sat at the bar with 3 other farangs. We carried on & chanced upon a scooter rental shop with a pissed-up bald obnoxious Australian farang hassling the lady in the shop. Jackie stepped in to enquire about the price of a scooter for the day & the Aussie turned to me introduced himself as Adam & said “What the f¥ck are you doing here?” I tried to politely explain our itinerary to him, but every time I said something he replied “Yeah, but what the f¥ck are you doing here?” I honestly can’t remember what I said when my patience finally snapped, but he then accused me of being negative. Jackie & I walked off leaving him to rant and rave to his mate about me.

We walked round the streets only to discover that all the local restaurants were closed. At 8.20pm, we bit the bullet & returned to Oscar’s Bar. The 4 farangs at the bar said hello when we walked in. We ordered a couple of beers from the lovely staff & were reading the menu when the pissed-up bald obnoxious Australian appeared in the street & started shouting about me being a wanker. One of the farangs told him to not upset the guests, meaning us as we were the only other people in the bar. We thought it best to ignore him and try and avoid further confrontation.

Jackie ordered chicken wings and chips, whilst I ordered a steak & mushroom pie & chips. The food was pure stodge heaven & we had the a special treat of proper Sarsons malt vinegar & HP brown sauce.

The pissed-up bald obnoxious Australian managed to annoy everyone at the bar, but the final straw was when the 16 year old daughter of one of the farangs popped in & the pissed-up bald obnoxious Australian said to her “Nice Tits”. To be fair, she did have them a bit too much out on display!

The pissed-up bald obnoxious Australian then made a quick exit (well, staggering from side to side down the street) without paying his bill, but left his phone & sunglasses behind. The atmosphere was much more relaxed after he left & the English farang with the daughter with large bosoms came over & had a chat with us.

We learnt that he, Chris, had lived in Songkhla for the last 18 years & was a catering manager for the off-shore oil rigs. This explained why there were a few westerners in town. He gave us some tips on where to eat & told us that his mother had visited him for Christmas & she lived in Chichester. Small world!

Chris also told us that the pissed-up bald obnoxious Australian unbelievably held a senior position at the port, but he had been at sea for some days & it was his 1st night back on shore. No excuse!

It had turned out to be a really good evening & we returned to our snazzy hotel knackered.

Song of the Day: Twat by John Cooper Clarke.Read more