LOVE ON THE ROAD

THIS WEEK ZOË ENJOYS A FASHION FRENZY BUT ENDS UP NEGLECTED

I'm on clothing cloud nine. We're in Hoi An, Vietnam, where every other shop is a tailor and you can get anything made for a fraction of the price it would cost on Bond Street. Liz and I have gone crazy for Chloé copies and mock Marc Jacobs dresses.

While we've been poring over style files and swatches, a strange relationship has emerged. Train Man and Simon, who met through Liz and I (we've been friends since we wore DMs in the early '90s), have spent every minute going off for a beer.

Shopping with us must be dull, but I'm feeling neglected. And here's the weird thing: both are men of few words. Train Man is a mumbler, who unlike me, only speaks when he has something to say. Simon, a Scottish sweetheart with one of those accents that make call centre operatives melt, is a quiet soul who speaks only when Liz stops speaking, which is rare. So what the hell do the boys talk about?

We got back to Hanoi last night and Liz and I decided to go for a run around the lake – we have dresses to fit into after all. As the boys sat having another beer, Liz and I spent the entire run talking about clothes, weddings (hers last summer; my dream wedding) and babies (names we'd choose; names our friends have chosen).

After six turns round the lake, I asked Liz what she thought the boys talked about. "Probably motorbikes, football and beer," she mused. "I wish I was a fly on the wall," I said.

This morning I asked Train Man the futile question: "What do you and Simon talk about?"

"Hmmm," he pondered. "Motorbikes, football and beer." Dullsville. Perhaps I don't want to be a fly on the wall after all.

Liz and Simon return to Leeds this afternoon and I hope Train Man starts talking to me as much as he has to Simon.

Miles travelled: 658
Terse sentences exchanged: We've barely spoken
Bespoke dresses bought: Six

Next week: Train Man gets nerdy in the jungle