He hasn't got an ankle to stand on...

Last Friday I had this nagging feeling I’d left the iron on, so I came home. All travellers have to return home some time, or they’re called nomads. I needn’t have worried - I don’t have an iron…

My time between Saigon and coming home was spent with a large man in Bangkok who doesn’t have any ankles. He used to have two, one at the end of each leg, but they disappeared when he reached 146 kilos (that’s the equivalent of three double-decker buses or an industrial sized hamburger).

You may suspect gluttony, but in fact the reason he is so big is to do with his car. It’s called a Ford Mealtime and comes equipped with a unique function. The car automatically activates an emergency stop if the driver tries to pass a restaurant. The ignition system can only be re-activated after a break of 30 minutes, and only if the weighing machine in the driver’s seat registers the driver heavier than the last time he sat on it. Some people suspect he bought the car because of this function.

The other reason he has no ankles is his tendency to drink 10 gallons of beer in one sitting – this, he says, ‘helps him forget…’ and often necessitates him living like a monk for at least a week after ‘just till my ankles drop…’

Even so I had high expectations, we hadn’t seen each other for over 2 years. Surely I could expect a lively drinking session and high jinx. Sadly I arrived in a period of ankle dropping expectancy. So, despite my travelling 10,000 miles by rail, and diverting early to Bangkok, for the sole purpose of meeting him and having a celebratory drinking session, of the sort that sends you into a coma, we sat in and played PGA Golf on his computer for 4 nights.

Occasionally, to break up the excitement, he would read me the UK headlines from the BBC website. Knowing my investments had halved while I was away was so comforting, and it was so very thoughtful of him to update me of the UK’s forthcoming bankruptcy.

So my long trek across Europe and Asia ended with a whimper rather than with my head in a spittoon following an unsuccessful spoof for the contents of the toilet bowl. Ho hum…

By comparison my homecoming was far more exciting. After four days of listening to him denigrating my Country in comparison to his adoptive one, I landed back on it. Travel is great but coming home is always the best bit. I’d traversed 10 countries, all of them interesting, some truly beautiful, one inhabited by a 146-kilo, PGA golf playing monk, but none that can hold a candle to my Country. And the only people without ankles in this fair land are old ladies who smell of lavender and peppermints.

So now to work. Some of you may remember the whole idea of this project was to write a book and get it published. To help me get to grips with this I have written a ‘to do’ list on the white board in my office. I’ll share it with you:

1 – write book

2 – sell book

3 – do tax return

So, you could say, my journey is only just starting, and I hope you continue to follow it.

Oh, and if you have any suggestions for coaxing out a pair of ankles, I have a friend in Bangkok who would like to hear from you.