"The invasion is a success, Overlord!"

In the '50s Heinlein wrote an SF story called The Puppet Masters where the human race had been enslaved by squishy parasites that lived on the back of the neck. The reality is similar: except that the aliens assume the disguise of hard little rectangles made of Cerium, Yttrium and Neodymium. The alien's success can be seen all over the world. Take Friday's visit to Bangkok's enormous Chatuchak Market. Everywhere we went the indigenous life forms were communicating with their alien masters. Walking along the street, setting up market stalls, sitting opposite on the Skytrain, standing in a queue; the entire human race is dreamily plugged into their little metal rectangles. I once thought the invasion was limited to the West, especially after my retirement when, every six months or so, I would meet up with a couple of guys from the "old job" only to find that, halfway through a conversation (that I, at least, was finding interesting), their eyes would glaze over, they would shuffle and, simultaneously, they would pull out their rectangles and commune with their overlords. It would seem that the phenomenon is pandemic: the invasion is complete world wide. Mike now has an iPhone with which, halfway walking down a street engaged in conversation, he will just stop and pull out his phone. It doesn't matter if he is in the middle of a road. Carolyn also has an iPad now and will open it up and talk to it out loud. This is Dave & Linda, the last free, rational Humans, signing off.

Okay, perhaps this is not the place for a social rant. The last night in Bangkok, then. Mike had buggered off to Pattaya on business, a beach holiday resort he describes as "Soi Cowboy, Pat Pong and Nana Plaza combined and merged to make a zoo" (we haven't been there yet). That left me with the two wine lovers who suggested we visit the Long Table at sunset "for the view" and happy hour. As it turned out, it inhabits the 25th floor of a skyscraper and looks out, next to an infinity (swimming) pool to the Bangkok skyline. The "happy hour" hook was "buy one get one free". Just as well as the wines were £11 a glass (a bottle of Carlsberg only £5!!). "But look at the magnificent view", cried Carolyn. "Yes", I replied, sipping my Carlsberg a molecule at a time and eyeing the long-legged, impressively corseted beauty gliding by with the menus. In fairness, it was a good spot: the sun had turned into a dull crimson sphere as it hit the evening haze reflecting reds off the glass buildings of the Bangkok skyline. If only I had a Farang's expense account I could have enjoyed it all without the financial guilt. We hurried out of the building after our "get one free" and headed to a nearby pub called the Black Swan which, an internet article earlier assured me, was still engaging in a more pedestrian happy hour. Alas! Only for beer, as it turns out, so my two wine lovers offered to pay the final bill for their slightly more acceptable £4-a-glass of wine(s) and my far more reasonable £2-a-pint of unsophisticated brew(s). Eating, for the duration of the day, was even less than admirable. Lunch consisted of a bucket of ice cream at Emporium's Swenesen's after a hard slog round Chatuchak Market (Gary knows what that's like) and dinner was a third of a bowl of chips each at the Black Swan because the three of us were too drunk to find a proper restaurant.

Luckily, Mike is taking us to Cha Am tomorrow so maybe our hedonistic lifestyles will improve. Maybe.