Save My Sandals

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I’d done it again, left a man behind. This time it was my blue sandals forgotten as I dashed out of the hostel in Krabi yesterday morning. I was on my way to Phcuket and I realised when I got there. Bugger.

It’s not that I was in love them or felt they couldn’t be replaced, more that they were part of the team, an integral one, allowing my feet to cool after a long day in my Converse. And now they were gone.

Worse that than I was in Phucket. Sorry, but I just can’tfigure out why anyone would go there. The beaches are great,  no doubt, but unless you’re there to sleep with underage girls or the old boilers who’ve dipped their face in make-up, what else is their to do but trip over the menu gazers stood on the pavements dawdling over what to eat tonight.

I didn’t like it. That’s why I camped well out the way on the beach last night and woke early with the intention of heading north. Only, when I saw a sign saying only 40miles back to Krabi I thought I have to save my sandals. I can’t let be abused and mistreated by new owners unaware of just what they’ve been through.

So now my sandals are liberated, with me once again and we can get back on that black road and ride knowing all the team are present and accounted for. Still no sign of all the other stuff I’ve lost though. I miss you black hat, you too left glove and fake sunglasses. And tripod, I’m struggling without you. Come back. All of you.

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