LOVE ON THE ROAD
This week ZoË and train man
go mountain climbing
THIS WEEK ZOË AND TRAIN MAN FIGHT THREE NOT-SO-WISE MONKEYS
Train Man is a resourceful person. Unlike throwaway old me, he saves string remnants ‘just in case', thinks odd socks might one day rediscover their soulmate, and has refilled the same plastic water bottle since Vietnam (eugh, the mouthpiece smells cheesy). It's half sweet, half annoying, and now it's caused us to fall out.
This morning, I woke up to the sound of someone running through our bedroom. I jolted upright then realised it was three monkeys thundering across our marble balcony (in Bali, rooms with marble balconies cost about 10p – I love Bali). As I ran to the glass doors I realised I'd left my bikini and towel out there overnight. My white two-piece was about to become a ten-piece.
"Do something!" I hollered to a half-asleep Train Man. Then, like that scrap between Colin Firth and Hugh Grant in Bridget Jones's Diary, I watched as he tussled awkwardly with a monkey in my honour. He managed to whip the bikini to safety, but as he went for the towel, the biggest monkey flashed its teeth, hissed and tried to get inside.
"Leave it, it's not worth it," I shrieked melodramatically.
"No way – that towel was 27 quid, they're not taking it." But they were. We watched as three macaques fought over my towel: pulling it, chewing it and wiping their bums on it.
After they swung off, Train Man went to retrieve it. "Don't touch it!" I yelled. "Monkeys have rubbed their bits on it!"
Train Man snapped at me for my throwaway attitude: "Don't be ridiculous, it'll be fine after a wash."
We're still bickering about the forlorn-looking towel strewn on the balcony. I say it's riddled with rabies; Train Man says it symbolises my wastefulness. But I've had my eye on a cute Billabong towel anyway, and as we fly to Australia tomorrow, it'd be rude not to buy it there…
Miles travelled: 101
Terse sentences exchanged: 10
Fist fights: 1
Next week: Zoë catches up with Carrie and co
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