...In Scunthorpe

Well, not quite. But when I turned on the TV in our Bangkok hotel room in the hope I might see Everton's FA Cup third round tie at Scunthorpe United, I wasn't really expecting to be able to watch it.
Not only was it on live, it even had English commentary. I might not actually have been at Scunthorpe but I was able to bellow along with the 1,500-or-so travelling fans. Brilliant.
Even more unexpected than being able to watch the game was Everton managing to score five goals - in the same game.

The first time it truly sank in that I was abroad was when I looked bleary-eyed from the bus window to see roughly 17 kids riding on the back of a pick-up truck.
Don't get the wrong impression, it wasn't some ancient flatbed on a dusty track. It was a snazzy Hi-Lux effort hurtling down a four-lane motorway into the city centre.
Bangkok seems to be a city of bizarre juxtapositions. All around, skyscrapers tower over tumbledown homes, flashy arcades sit a block along from the markets flogging cheap designer copies and modern bright pink taxis jostle for space with even more colourful tuk-tuks - while trying to overtake men pushing carts. (The traffic makes London look about as busy as, well, Scunthorpe on a wet Sunday evening).

We stayed the first few days in a hotel to ease ourselves into Asian life.
I've taken advantage of the buffet breakfast to keep me going until teatime: Bacon and omelettes, followed by rice porridge with minced pork and chilli, a Chinese curry and topped off with a bowl of fruit.
By common consensus, however, the street food is far better than anything you get in a restaurant. And it's much cheaper. Stalls are dotted on every street and they smell fantastic. We usually have no idea what we're getting. The process seems to be to point at something vaguely recognisable, smile and hope you get that delicious-looking thing the bloke on the next table is eating. For 30 baht (about 50p) last night I had a beautiful pork and Chinese leaf stir fry, which came with a liberal sprinkling of whole garlic cloves and chillies.

One night in Bangkok "makes the tough guys tumble", apparently.
But I have to say I would find the average small English town (Scunthorpe, perhaps?) a lot more threatening.
Our arrival at the hotel was preceded by a wander down a side street next to the main railway station - usually the hairiest part of town - which threw up nothing more dangerous than a sheer drop through an open manhole cover. Although one man did offer us a taxi while leaning on something with a striking resemblance to an AK47. I think it was a child's toy and we didn't get in his cab, so I reckon it's okay. Even a stroll around the red light district of Patpong revealed nothing more worrying than the occasional girl - at least I think that's what they were - trying to drag us into clubs to watch ping-pong which, for some reason, I don't think had much to do with table tennis.

Being blonde(ish), The One With The Common Sense is getting quite a lot of attention from  the locals.
In the main, however, it seems to be good-humoured. One bloke shouted "lucky man" at me yesterday. He wouldn't have been saying that if he'd seen her passport photo, which makes her look like "a big feckin' minger".
Her words, not mine, I hasten to add.