Dear Hillary,
Drat and double drat, I’ve got nothing to moan about; no Thai ladies cleaning me out. I’d rather have women spending money on me, but I know that’s not likely to happen until it starts raining 1000 baht notes here in downwardly mobile Jomtien; and even then I doubt if I’ll get lucky.
No, I’m just staying in my room, watching DVDs on my otherwise blank TV screen (if anyone thinks I’m paying 400 baht a month for local cable TV, they’ve got another think coming). In the UK I have to make a 2 mile round trip to buy bread and groceries from the nearest Tesco; here I’m dead lucky, there’s one right on my doorstep.
Perhaps there is one big fat greasy fly in the ointment after all Hillary; not too many days from now I’m due to return to the UK by flying; if you could grant me immunity from dying in a plane crash while in transit, I might just be able to see you right in the chocs and champers dept. (A very small box of chocolate liquers should do it, shouldn’t it old girl?)
Ken Morley-ish
Dear Ken Morley-ish,
I’m sorry, but referring to me as “old girl” does not do anything for your case or cause, and I don’t care if you have to crawl to Tesco in the UK through the snow, my Petal. Never refer to another (almost) ‘senior’ lady as “old girl”. Got it? I don’t know, as well as fixing problems I’ve got to teach you manners as well! Then there’s that Dorian Farmer cartoonist who draws me in a bikini on the beach. A bikini! You wouldn’t catch me dead in a bikini! I even wear a one piece into the shower. Thank you Dorian for thinking of me anyway. By the way, how’s your friend Nairod these days? I do lead a difficult life.
