KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCKING ON HEAVEN'S DOOR

DAY 62: Bangkok

Today is the King of Thailand's birthday. And don't we know it. They've been playing the same frikin' song outside on the loud PA system all day. Turn on the TV, same thing. And what's with everyone wearing pink? It's like gay pride, not a royal's birthday. Hope he's not reading this otherwise I won't get out of Thailand, let alone get a new passport. I'm sure he has better things to do.

We started the morning off by taking advantage of both the sunshine and the hotel's rather nice rooftop pool and sunbeds for a few hours until lunchtime. Maybe there was a little snooze in there somewhere, I'm not sure.

We ate lunch at a cheap looking joint on the Khoa San Road, where some random Thai woman stood at the front of the tables on the pavement 'singing' in a really bad karaoke fashion to one of the songs playing in the bar. She didn't know one word. We then decided to have a little look around the market, which seems to constantly change with stalls rotating their stock and sometimes their position meaning you have no idea whether you've seen their products or not. Good tactics.

We went back to the hotel so that Jen could catch up on the sleep count and I could catch up on the blog before we headed out for the evening. This is when the loud music started. And it got louder.

When we left the hotel we realised why it was so loud. There was a stage at the end of the road where there were celebratory performances for the King's birthday. So we watched a dance or two then a pretty bad version of what I can only think was a national or royal song by about 10 pink-shirt-wearing officials.

Then something so terrifying happened that it left me in shock for an hour or two afterwards, and feeling very, very lucky at the same time. Some officials seemed to be clearing the area immediately in front of the stage, but weren't doing a very good job. It looked like there might be some sort of street performance about to take place as someone had put two boxes on the floor separated by about 5 metres. Jen went on ahead of me as she wanted to take a photo of the performers stood down the side of the stage. As she squeezed behind the man ushering people away I realised what was about to happen with dread. I'd seen the box on the floor alight so I shouted Jen's name, but there was not enough time. In a split second the box exploded with fireworks at all angles about two feet from where Jen was stood. I saw it in slow motion, like in the movies where the force of the explosion thrusts the person sideways. In the ensuing panic, we managed to grab each other and shoot down a side alley to check she was ok. Miraculously, she wasn't touched by any of the flames or flying firework shrapnel from the erupting box. I don't think anyone was seriously hurt, although one girl did have a small burn on her leg. Even I felt something hot hit me and I was about three people behind Jen. What halfwit sets light to a box of fireworks before moving, or at least telling, the crowd. Idiots. We were very lucky, especially Jen who is fine and unharmed, just to clarify.

Needing a drink to calm the nerves, and get out of the line of fire, we dived in the nearest bar. It was happy hour too, so we had a few drinks, ordered some food and counted our blessings. Definitely one of Jen's nine lives. Whilst eating dinner I didn't help the situation by telling Jen that the caramelised dark red things in her dinner were sundried tomatoes. As she ate a whole one, she realised they weren't sundried tomatoes. They were chillies. Oops!

It wasn't until we returned to the same bar later that evening that we realised it what it was called; '999 West'. Appropriate, we thought. And, whilst we were waiting for our drinks to come, we noticed that the song being played was Angels by Robbie Williams. As if that wasn't bad enough, the first song the live band played when they came on was 'Knocking on Heaven's Door'. Time to call it a day we think.