Pleasant weekend on the relatively-unspoiled-but-not-for-long Koh Chang (Elephant Island). Mostly spent eating, reading, dozing, although some gentle sea kayaking assuaged any indolence-related guilt. Along the dirt roads, it seems that every other shop has a neat display of whisky bottles outside, with a hand-scrawled sign saying "30 baht" (43p to you, guv). Closer inspection reveals that it's not booze, which is cheap, but not that cheap. It's ready-measured portions of petrol for the motorbikes that are the main form of transport around here. In any other country, such a display would be asking for trouble: all you need is a few tampons and a Zippo and you've got yourself a nice little arsenal of Molotov cocktails. Welcome to Thailand, the country where they just can't be arsed to riot.
On Saturday night, I tried to teach Small Boo to play pool which, since I've played it about once, is a bit like Stevie Wonder offering flying lessons to David Blunkett.
SB: This shot's difficult. I think my arms are too short.
TF: Do you need a rest?
SB: I'm not tired. It's just my arms are too short.
UPDATE: "She could also have saved money by choosing 'hard-class' train seats." Another way to get to Koh Chang.