Buoyed with the relief of having got through India with no stomach problems and joyful with the anticipation of being back amongst the utter fabulousness of Thailand in just a few short hours, we skipped up to the machine gun wielding policeman at Delhi airport thrusting our documents at him with glee and abandonment, eager to get away from the dust and hassle of India. Brian, as usual, was unprepared for this little last burst of Indian bureaucracy and as a little bottleneck of eager travellers agitated to squeeze past us, he painstakingly unzipped his document wallet, slowly extracted his passport holder and carefully opened it to reveal a large empty space where his passport should have been.

He stared at me with a sort of bewildered 'what have you done with my passport' sort of look. The policeman looked concerned, but tightened his grip on his gun. The crowd grew restless. Damn, we weren't going to reach the hallowed air conditioned splendour of the departure hall without that blasted document. Or at least one of us wasn't.......

We shuffled awkwardly to one side to allow the queue to squeeze past and began the embarrassing process of opening Brian's case and sorting through his massive collection of clothing as a cluster of interested by-standers gathered. Perhaps they were waiting to be impressed by the comprehensiveness of his t-shirt collection?

The passport was finally located in a side pocket of the case. Phew. It's Friday afternoon, imagine trying to get a new passport before Monday? And Brian's mother is due to arrive on Sunday afternoon. Someone would not have been popular.....

But before she arrives we have 24 hours to relax and transform ourselves from dusty, bedraggled, bus travelling hobbits into sleek, moisturised and glamorous sophisticates. Yeah, well obviously it's going to take a bit more than a pedicure, a hot shower, a leg wax and a liberal application of cucumber and mint body lotion, but it's a start. Plus it's finally, finally warm and we can shed all those sweaty layers and crusty socks. Hurrah for shorts and bare feet!

Our hotel is gorgeous, only 4 months old and full of dark wood, old mirrors and large chandeliers. We have a massive 7foot bed that we just sink into when we sleep, crisp white cotton sheets and covetable delicious smelling Molton Brown toiletries, that I am shovelling into my case on a daily basis. Haha, I'm so shallow. After over a month of mediocre hotels it's so lovely to have a bit of luxury. Our room has fabulous views over Bangkok, including the home of the American ambassador to Thailand who lives in the middle of an impressive garden at the back of our hotel, bordering the U.S. Embassy. From our room on the 18th floor we can look down on his quite modest one storey house, swimming pool and tennis courts.

Bri set off to meet his mother at the airport in plenty of time, but hadn't realised that her flight had landed early, so she had been exploring the terminal for an hour before he found her. Despite his precise instructions as to where to meet in case of a delay he finally found her wandering around outside the airport, not by the information desk as he had stipulated. Apparently Kay had told her to wait outside, and in the world of O'Toole Top Trumps it seems an instruction from Kay will always beat a command from Brian.

The day we arrived in Bangkok a Lebanese man was arrested on suspicion of terrorism when bomb making equipment was found in his apartment. He is alleged to be targeting tourists and a number of embassies have issued travel warnings, particularly the Americans who are reported to be the prime target. His accomplice is still at large and it's headline news.

Whilst we're speculating on the hope that the missing terrorist doesn't fancy the American Embassy as his next target we realise that the Bangkok Post is carrying the story as their front page news, a copy of which is delivered to every hotel bedroom and hung on their doorknob before breakfast. Yikes. Brian conducts an early morning raid on his mother's room to steal the paper just in case she notices, and we have to continue this pre-dawn news censorship for the rest of our stay.

And so we introduced Sue to the delights of Bangkok, she's enjoying the food, has had her first foot massage which caused a few squeals and a bit of a giggle and we took her to a cabaret show that she loved, but was amazed to discover after the first couple of numbers that it was a troupe of ladyboys.

Brian took her to the Royal Palace but they got caught up in a well worn scam where tourists are told that the palace is closed and then 'helpfully' driven to a temple that is purportedly only open once a year. They are then taken to a gem factory in the hope that they will buy lots of fake jewels. luckily (and perhaps not surprisingly) they resisted the urge to buy me a couple of diamonds and returned safely back to the hotel with their tale. So the visit to the Palace will have to wait until we are back in Bangkok next week.

And finally, before leaving for a few days by the beach at Phangnga (just north of Phuket geography fans) we did a spot of light shopping. Sue bought a pair of fake designer sunglasses for 400 baht (about £8) and then Brian found a pair that he liked for 39 baht. 'I hope you're going to haggle' instructed his mother firmly, forgetting that she had just handed over ten times that amount for her pair, without a murmur. More worryingly, when I met up with Brian a bit later he tried to persuade me to buy some sunglasses that he then confessed were the same ones as his mother had just bought. Should I be concerned?