Kingscross or Bangkok

So, Gary Glitter has been let out of prison and been deported from Vietnam. He was due to fly back to London but only got as far as Bangkok airport where he faked a heart attack and refused to board his connecting flight. He's a showman isn't he. Why on earth would anyone fake a heart attack at Bangkok airport? If you want to miss a flight there, all you have to do is go to the information desk and ask someone where your departure gate is. In my experience you'll receive a set of incomprehensible instructions that just send you deep into the labyrinth and eject you at some random point about 1o miles from where you need to be.

And why does he want to stay in Bangkok airport anyway? I've been there loads of times and it's not somewhere I'd chose to sleep. In fact, given the choice between spending a night at Bangkok airport or the men's lavatory at Kingscross Station, I think Kingscross would just have the edge. I'd say you're equally likely to meet a man in a dress at either location, but in Kingscross you're likely to realise it sooner. Maybe that is the kind of thing he's looking for. He's going to end up in Britain anyway. Thailand has made him persona non grata already, and no one else is going to take him after this publicity.

I embarrassed myself twice today already. I managed to walk all the way to the station before realising that my fly was half undone, and then in the office I unexpected ly farted so loudly that everyone in the office turned round and looked. I thought it was going to be one of those quiet ones that you can blame on someone else, but no, it turned out to be the sort that sounds like an angry jazz trombone. I hate when that happens! At least it didn't smell.

It's my wedding anniversary today. We exchanged cards in bed this morning. And later, at lunchtime, I discovered a further card in my lunchbox. It was homemade with a picture of the dragon on teh front. The back promised another two cards close by. I found another one in my briefcase and another in the pocket of my jacket. We're too old for this sort of thing really. Anyway, it's been four years now and I still don't have any regrets.