Beaches, burgers and a sore bottom

I made it through 8 beers last night and was up till 4:30 watching a variety of films (avoid Aeon Flux – it’s awful) with one of the Irish girls and the only other single bloke in the hostel.

It chucked it down overnight and in the morning, but by lunchtime the sun was out and I headed back to Patong with 5 lovely Irish ladies for some beach relaxation. Two headed off for shopping, however, and ended up coming back to Phuket Town early to get their hair done. Apparently this is somewhat perilous as the staff often only know one hairstyle.

Soaking up the sun was OK, but I wanted to try something new. 700Baht later, I was the proud hirer of a single-seat jetski. VRRRRM!!! These things are fun! I literally laughed out loud as I leapt over waves and turned with huge sprays of water. A word of warning to the fellas – at speed, stand in the seat and use your legs as suspension otherwise you will stand no chance of ever having children.

I also helped rescue two Thai girls who had capsized their jetski. One’s lifejacket was far to large and she kept slipping out of it. She managed to cling to my jetski until the hirers arrived and took them back ashore. Curiously only two people bothered to stop and help them – myself and a young lad with a Geordie accent.

Jetskiing’s definitely something I’ll do again. Great fun. My legs were wobbling when I started walking again. Riding the waves was like using a stepmaster for half an hour. Alas, the first clothing casualty occured when I realised I’d left my NUFC cap on the beach. Gah. At least this one lasted 5 weeks or so. The last cap I lost on holiday didn’t make it off the coach in the transfer from the airport to the hotel.

For dinner we stopped at the Rock Bar again. I went for the Kong Burger this time and barely finished it. I also discovered that not all women like cats when a poor, battered puddy tat arrived on the scrounge. All three women threatened serious harm if I fed it as it would “only encourage it and I don’t like cats”. So, obviously, I ignored them. Hey, it’s a cat. It had tar all over one paw and it was scrawny. Cat. People. Cat. People. Friends and family will know which I’m more sympathetic toward.

Rumours are rife that we once again visited Swensons. There are also rumours that when we sat down the staff said “same as last time?” and got the order right.

The rumours are true.

Again. I blame the women. They, in turn, blame me. This is a good arrangement as it all cancels out and therefore nobody is to blame. I also have a theory about ice cream in that there’s only a finite amount of guilt associated with any particular feast. The more people attend said feast, the less guilt is attributable to each individual. So a big party with huge amounts is better for you guiltwise than a sneaky 99 Flake.

Well, my theory has good support over here!

The evening turned into a veritable footie feast. I saw a fair bit of the Arsenal/Spurs match, got back to the hostel just as we opened the scoring in our televised game and then sat through the Liverpool/Chelsea FA Cup game. A pack of Irish girls attempted to watch Brokeback Mountain and we allowed them twenty minutes of the second half so that we could catch the end of the game, then the TV was theirs. As a result, we missed two of the goals and I noticed when I went upstairs afterwards that they’d given up on the film as well. I have a sneaky suspicion it’s because the start of it had been so flipping awful they couldn’t bear to inflict the remaining hour and a half on themselves.

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