Well, then, here we get to the first bit of parallel blog writing I've been involved in. Because this is where my path conjoins with Frankie's for a while. I've decided not to look at her blog until we've gone our separate ways, just so I can see how different our portrayal of events will be.

So, I was sat quietly drinking a Chang beer and people-watching in Bangkok, outside the shop where I had agreed to meet Frankie, when up she popped! I almost didn't recognise her, she is so much blonder than she was nine months ago. Which is not to say blonde blonde, but there are definite blonde streaks, evidence of the sunny climes she has been living in since Powergen. We headed back to the guest house and had loads of chats - after all, it's been a while.

The next few days were spent sorting stuff out like visas and bus tickets, but we also fitted in a bit of sightseeing - to Wat Po, where we had Thai massages that weren't as painful as I was expecting but still bloody sore in parts; to Jim Thompson's house with its charming tour guides; and to the cinema in the Siam Centre, to see The Last Samurai, which was much better than I was expecting. I particularly enjoyed standing as a mark of respect for the King of Thailand, an audiovisual tribute taking the slot usually occupied in the UK by cries of "Butterkist - ra, ra, ra!"

It was good to get outside the standard Khao San Road area and actually walk through real Bangkok, if a little smelly and hot in the choking traffic fumes and baking smog-smothered sun. And I particularly enjoyed adding a new rapid transport system to my collection, even though we only went a few stops on the Skytrain.

On Thursday evening I had an unexpected encounter: Megan was in town! She was going to catch the train that evening up to Chiang Mai, and it was luck that brought us together again. The three of us went for a bite to eat and a drink or two, having lovely chats, before Megan caught a tuk-tuk to the station. I really must go and visit her in Nova Scotia one of these years.

Then Friday morning saw me & Frankie packing our bags and jumping in the minibus to Cambodia. The journey on the Thai side was uneventful. Crossing the border itself was a different story. We had to queue in the baking hot sun, all our bags on our backs, for almost two hours, just to get through the Thai exit customs! Then a walk across no-man's land fending off beggars to form another queue, blissfully short, to enter Cambodia itself. It was the most tortuous border crossing I have ever had. It really makes you pity the poor blighters who have to join the Any Other Passport queue at Heathrow.

After a short wait in a cafe on the much grubbier Cambodian side of the border while our next bus was prepared, we climbed on board and took stock: the "bus" (I'll stick to the general term for this type of vehicle, even if "cattle truck" would be more appropriate) was I think a '70s vintage, which the driver spent some time welding back together again only five minutes into the journey. Okay, it was only the bumper he had to weld, but it didn't exactly inspire confidence.

The general crapness of Cambodian roads - particularly after we left the main road to Phnom Penh and turned off towards Siem Reap: people's heads were hitting the roof of the bus, that's how rutted the dirt track was - was offset by the warmth of the people and the exquisiteness of the food. And at one of our regular stops for food and a brief respite from the jiggly ride, I tried desperately to be angry with but was totally unable to hate a young girl who, in the midst of trying to sell me a necklace, looked me up and down and said "Wow! You're so BIG!"

After a bone-shaking six hours along the dusty "road" that led through seemingly endless rice paddies, crossing dozens of waterways on shaky bridges, watching the sun go down in a blaze of crimson glory behind our dust cloud, then bouncing about in pitch darkness with nothing but the bus' feeble headlamps to illuminate the scene, we reached the outskirts of Siem Reap. And it was as if we had been transported into another realm: hotel after luxury hotel lined each side of a brand-new tarmac highway, lights glittering over entrance portals and in ornamental trees, and fat cars ferrying people around and about. Clearly, the delights of Angkor's temples have pulled in the tourist dollars in recent years. And the place was heaving with visitors because this weekend was Lunar New Year; it seemed half of China's formidable populace was in town.

We checked in to the first hotel the bus stopped at, and after a brief walk to the nearby market to buy some water, we retired for the night, hoping a night's sleep might allow our skeletons to knit back together. But the sleep was a relatively short one, because the next day we got up an hour before dawn and made our way, each on the back of a moped with a willing driver, to the temple complex at nearby Angkor...

The flight to Bangkok was relatively uneventful. You know, the usual, takeoff, bit of turbulence, landing. But that's Qantas for you. Take it from Rain Man.

Arriving in Bangkok was nerveracking though. It's a new destination for me (I changed planes here once, but that hardly counts) so I was grateful that Frankie had sent me an email with instructions on how to avoid getting ripped off on my way into town. I found the express bus, then managed to get a seat before three million people rushed to get in. It was weird, sitting in a bus with new people in a new place and thinking "ohmygod I have to find a bed to sleep in and not get mugged tonight!". But somehow I was less daunted than I had been in Madagascar. Perhaps it was just the fact that I had survived this sort of situation once already that gave me strength.

Anyway, no-one seemed to know where exactly to get off. I followed the majority and alighted in a noisy, fumy, crowded part of town about an hour and a half from the airport. Destination: Khao San Road. Like everyone else. Thankfully, I didn't have to find it alone: a redhead girl who turned out to be Canadian and called Megan approached me asking if I knew where I was going. We decided to strike out together, Frankie's printed-out email our only guide in this hostile environment.

Well, we got there in the end. And in that short time we managed to form a friendship that I hope will last. At least until I have been across to Canada and claimed a free spare bed anyway!!! The next few days Megan and I explored some of Bangkok, including the spectacular Royal Palace with its fairytale temple enclosure; and the magnificent Wat Po, wherein resides the 46 metre Reclining Buddha. What a dude!

After a bit of indecision (what, Richard? Never! I hear you cry) on both our parts, we decided to travel outside of Bangkok - ooh! scary! - and visit the town of Kanchanaburi together. This is a delightful little town on the River Khwae (of Bridge fame) from where one can see lots of nice things. The best sightseeing we did was to the Erawan Falls, a protected collection of seven tiered waterfalls with natural swimming pools. The worst sightseeing was the Tiger Temple, where abused tigers (mostly ex pets) are looked after. To be honest, the tigers seemed drugged. But then, that may well have been better for them than what they had suffered previously. I can't tell. But it was a sorry spectacle anyway.

Our first evening was fantastic because we had the good fortune to meet Aisling, an Irish girl travelling on her own for a few days before meeting up with friends in Chiang Mai, and Joe, an American guy who had just spent six months in Asia and was heading home the following evening. We had such a laugh! We met in the back of the tour bus coming back from the Tiger Temple, and immediately got talking and laughing. This continued through a couple of beers at the hotel and on to dinner in a cheesy restaurant.

We wound up sitting outside at a bar with live rock music. The music was provided by a full-on Thai heavy metal cover band. They were playing excellently, and they knew how to pick crowd-pleasers: the four of us were singing along half the time, so loud that the band must have been able to hear us on the stage! I think this earned us their esteem, because when their final set finished (around 1am) we got invited to join them at their table. They were having an after-gig party and we totally joined in! Beer and whisky, a cappella singing (oh yes, I gave my one-man rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody to general acclaim) and the vicious humour of a real-life ladyboy. We rolled home to our riverside hostel and its floating rooms at 4 o'clock, much the worse for wear.

Only to be awoken by the dulcit tones of The Cheeky Girls singing "We Are The Cheeky Girls (Touch My Bum)", courtesy of a floating disco that drifted past us at 10am. Now there's a modern classic if ever I heard one! Bleary-eyed and hang-headed, we crawled over to the breakfast area and had a leisurely brunch before saying our farewells. Aisling was catching the train to Chiang Mai, and Joe was heading back to Bangkok to catch his plane.

It was sad to see them go, but at the same time it showed me and Megan that sometimes you just meet people you really like: and that's beautiful. For me it was a great contrast to Madagascar, where I met very few people really. And Joe had told us it was the first time in several months that he had really hit it off with new people. So I should be thankful all this came my way in my first week in Asia.

The next day Megan & I travelled to Erawan and on to the Death Railway (the subject of the Bridge film), meeting a few nice Brits and literally carriageloads of Dutch people! I was pleasantly surprised to find I still had a smattering of conversational Dutch. Okay, preening session over.

Then I left Megan and took a minibus back to Bangkok, so that I could meet up with Frankie. She was flying in that evening from New Zealand. It was so great to see her again! It's been nine months since our combined PG leaving do, and there is so much to catch up on. Well, we've got time - Frankie doesn't go back to Nepal until mid March.

What we did next will be covered in my next missive.

Sorry I skipped quickly over Scotland. It deserves at least another paragraph or two.

When I arrived in Edinburgh airport, I got the bus into the centre of town. It was one of those perfect crisp midwinter nights: the moon shone majestically down over the beautifully lit Castle, and there was a vivid clarity to the shopfronts, the passing traffic and the Hogmanay festivities below Princes Street. Simon came to meet me and we walked the ten minutes to his flat, in Stockbridge. What a delightful part of town! It's got bookshops, coffee shops, cheesemongers and even an antique clothes shop! Funky.

The next day Simon & I did a recycling run with all the boxes that had carried wedding gifts over from Ulster the previous day. Then Simon, Hester and I went to pick up Scott and the four of us drove to Dunoon. There, we helped to prepare for Wilson's birthday ceilidh. It was bitter cold! But the dancing and the drinking warmed everyone's spirits. I became head barman, which I enjoyed greatly, and spent time chatting with the German guests. It was lovely to spend some time with the rest of Simon's family again too. Lovely people.

And then, after the ceilidh, some of us made our way to a loch and set tealights off on journeys of exploration across the inky depths. It was bloody cold, but so beautiful to watch the tiny flickering flames glide slowly away, almost as if by Brownian motion alone, to shine like hot stars on the lake's surface.

The next day (New Year's Eve), after a bit of a slow start, we headed back to Edinburgh. All the way back, we stopped in hypermarkets to pick up ingredients for the huge chili that I was to prepare. But could I find fresh coriander anywhere? No I bloody couldn't! It seems all of Scotland had the same idea for Hogmanay food. Oh well, even without it turned out to be a quite fantastic chili which met everyone's approval at that evening's party in the flat.

Over the course of the next few days I got to enjoy the company of many people, including Simon's parents (visiting Simon & Hester for the first time in Edinburgh), Lisa from Dublin (with work colleagues over for Hogmanay), Davey & Maggie (who live round the corner), Murray (who drove all the way up from Leam to be with us for a few days), and of course Scott. Simon christened his fondue set with cheese bought from the cheesemonger round the corner, which turned out remarkably well considering neither of us had prepared it before.

The fruit smoothies provided throughout my time in Scotland by the smoothie maker (another wedding gift) were outstanding. The flat was wonderful. The evenings spent in good company were memorable. The weather was atrocious on occasion, but largely benign. I was sad to leave. So sad, in fact, that I did my best to get stuck in Scotland by missing four airport buses in a row (I claim it was their fault for not stopping at the right bus stop) and then missing my flight - by one minute! Luckily I got on the next flight at no extra cost. Simon sent me a sarcy SMS to the effect that this was a fine way to start a year of flying all over the place! Cheek.

My last few days in the UK were uberhectic. I managed to fit in drinks with ex work people in Leam, a dentist's appointment, a doctor's appointment for more malaria tablets, beers in London with the usual crowd, 195 pounds' worth of parking tickets (! - but honestly 80 quids' worth were wrongfully awarded; bitter letters to and fro with Barnet council recognised this in the end), and the sale of my car to a garage in Esher. Oh, and packing. Phew! I need a holiday!

And then, on Wednesday 14th January, I flew away from England for a long long time, arriving the next day in Bangkok. More about that in my next update...