LOVE ON THE ROAD

THIS WEEK IT'S NOT JUST ZOË'S FROZEN YOGHURT THAT'S CHILLY IN CAMBODIA

I'm shocked at how intolerant I am. Not of the lad thing – Train Man ditched that at Angkor Wat, where he spent longer than I secretly wanted photographing hundreds of temples. But it wasn't that, since I like the fact he can be a nerd. It's petty things that wind me up. Like yesterday.

Three hours into a sticky six-hour bus journey on a clapped-out Cambodian bus, I was starving. So when we stopped for a ‘happy break' as the driver called it, I dashed to get some food.

Choices were limited. I really wanted the imported Oreos, but I plumped for a small frozen yoghurt. I've eaten too many trans-fats lately and it was more appetising than the stir-fried crickets and cockroaches next to the till.

"Do you want a yoghurt?" I asked Train Man as I hovered over the freezer.

"No, I'll have some of yours, hon."

"But I'm hungry. I'll get us one each," I replied, picking up two.

"No, I don't really want anything," he said, taking one out of my hand and putting it back.

Back on the bus my mouth watered as I opened the pot, got out my travel ‘spork' (half spoon, half fork) and tucked in. "Want to try it?" I whispered half-heartedly, hoping he'd say no. But 30 seconds later Train Man did what he always does.

He ate over half my snack (his bite is at least 1.5 times larger than mine) and when I protested, I just looked like a tight, greedy cow.

I was so narked, I put on my iPod and stared out of the window for the rest of the journey. Train Man laughed, which made it worse, so 24 hours later I'm still in a mood.

It's his birthday in three days, so I'll have to back out of my sulk. I can't believe we're falling out over yoghurt…

Miles covered: 582
Terse sentences exchanged: Lots – over pots
Songs listened to in anger: 28

Next week: Tensions rise as the birthday approaches

LOVE ON THE ROAD

THIS WEEK ZOË FORGETS INDIAN BLISS AND ENCOUNTERS LADDISHNESS IN LAOS

Train Man has gone from lad to worse. On Monday his friend Phil joined us for a week so we can travel to Cambodia together, and if my newly-shorn love was starting to show some geezer tendencies before, he's now making Paul Danan look like a sensitive guy.

It's not Phil's fault – it's good to see him. Apart from the fact I can beat him at rummy, he also brought out two bars of Green & Black's, plus a bumper bag of Cadbury's Mini Eggs. But I think Phil's presence has exacerbated Train Man's new-found laddishness.

We're in Laos, yet every night TM's managed to track down a pub to watch another bloody Premier League/Champions League/UEFA cup match. I'm starting to wonder if there are three people in this relationship (me, TM and Ronaldo). And the other night, when he beat me and Phil at rummy, TM downed his beer, punched me on the arm and said "'ave it!" I gave him A Look and went off to hang out with Mr Green & Mr Black.

Don't let Train Man know I said this, but I'm getting a strange satisfaction from this new dynamic. While he's playing Danan-aman with Phil, it's giving me the perfect excuse to bugger off on my own. I can have a pedicure or email my friend Esther to catch up on all the goss without feeling guilty that Train Man is patiently waiting outside.

I need space to do my own things – it's not natural to be with someone 24/7. And I was missing Esther's gossip: how else would I have found out about pregnant friends, Patrick Swayze or the New Kids' reunion tour?

And when TM comes to our hostel bed at night feeling sheepish, he's very sweet. So I'll keep rolling my eyes, but this lady won't protest too much.

Miles covered: 108
Terse sentences exchanged: 0 (we've barely spoken)

Next week: Things get frosty with Train Man

LOVE ON THE ROAD

THIS WEEK ZOË WORRIES ABOUT TRAIN MAN'S STRANGE BEHAVIOUR

It looks like my growing belly is due to all the curries I've been packing away – the test was negative.

Food poisoning played tricks on my mind and the Delhi-Singapore-Bangkok flight must have played tricks on my cycle.

I'm not pregnant and won't be hauling Train Baby around the world. Phew!

So we've left Bangkok after stewing in a humid panic for longer than planned and we're now in Luang Prabang in Laos, which has an amazing night market and cake shops in abundance – so I'm indulging in trinket shopping and comfort eating.

But it's not all good.

I'm annoyed with how relieved Train Man was when the blue negative symbol appeared. He actually made a fist and punched the air – like Tim Henman, only with force.

And then it struck me.

I was supposed to be happy with the result too, so why was I a teeny bit miffed to see his celebration? What if I had been pregnant?

Would I have ruined Train Man's life, or would he have buggered off to Bali, leaving me to fly home alone?

Even more worrying, though, is how he's changed since the test. This morning, Train Man went out to buy water and came back without any hair.

He looks laddy and is acting a bit Ibiza Uncovered too: it's only 2pm and he's already clutching a beer, and tonight he's adamant we go to a hideous sports bar to watch some football game.

Is this his way of telling me he's definitely not ready to be a dad?

What freaks me out most is that TM's shorn hair has revealed a different shaped head to what I thought he had. I've never seen him without slightly '70s floppy hair.

I used to call him my Box Head, but now I realise his cranium is much thinner and almost kidney-bean shaped.

And seeing Train Man from a totally different angle is making me worry about all the other sides of him I don't know about…

Miles covered: 442
Terse sentences exchanged: 3
Shock haircuts: 1

Next week: Can Zoë cope with TM's laddish ways?

LOVE ON THE ROAD

THIS WEEK ZOË'S AND TRAIN MAN SHARE A PREGNANT PAUSE IN BANGKOK

Train Man is sitting on the edge of the bed looking scared. I don't think I've ever seen his big brown eyes so wide.

The fact that all I want to do is nurture him and tell him everything's going to be OK might be indicative that I am ready for parenthood. Judging from the expression on his face, I'm not sure he is.

I'm 31 – prime age for having a baby, but already heading towards the 'Big Bad 35' I've learned to fear. Sometimes I look at the dimple on Train Man's right cheek and yearn for a child with one too. But only sometimes.

This trip has taken six months to plan and is a lifetime dream for both of us. We can't call it a day after just seven weeks. Besides, we have no home to return to – we've rented it out for a year. And if I am pregnant, I doubt we can travel this self-indulgently for another 18 years plus.

"Maybe I can haul my baby belly around Central America?" I said to Train Man in the middle of the night. We were both wide awake. He didn't say anything. But I had a point. We'd seen a surprising number of gorgeous Western women wearing their pregnancy like Jessica Alba, or hauling small snoozing babies clutched to their chest in a papoose.

"And you know how neurotic I am about MRSA. I bet in Nicaragua or wherever, the chance of getting it is slimmer than at home." Still nothing. Now I was really clutching at straws. "And our baby would have dual nationality."

"Don't be ridiculous, hon," was all Train Man said.

This morning he got up and went to Nottingham's finest, one of the many Boots stores in Bangkok, to get us a test. And if I'm honest, I'm not sure what I want the outcome to be. I guess I'll know in about two minutes…

Miles covered: 0 Terse sentences exchanged: 3, more fraught than terse

Blue lines? I'll get back to you

Next week: Zoë's surprised by the test results