Free Forget You Had a Daughter - Doing Time in the Bangkok Hilton by Sandra Gregory

time.Almost 20 months had passed since I had arrived in Thailand.
    ‘Bye, Mum. I love you, take care.’

    A community ceases to be so once the members become less than resolute in their support of each other. Many of the people I had considered to be friends in Bangkok began avoiding me and I was being dropped like a sack of dirty laundry.To be fair I was no fun to be around any more. I never wanted to go out, and I certainly didn’t want to go to the park and play Frisbee, or shop for materi- als to take to the tailor for the latest fashion. I was miserable to be around. Like most fair-weather friends, they didn’t want to know. Two people I had known for over a year were planning a trip to one of the islands in the gulf and asked me if I wanted to go. I
    didn’t but they said it would be inexpensive.
    ‘You’re going nowhere fast in Bangkok,’ said one,‘and it would be good for you to relax, get well and be with friends for a while.’ Shortly after arriving on the island my sickness and fever returned. Almost delirious, I couldn’t get to a doctor but I managed to visit a chemist who told me I had been stung by a large, black-and-white striped mosquito; quickly I developed dengue fever. I’d never heard of it, but the chemist assured me that
    it would pass. ‘Jai yen yen.’ Take it easy.
    Finally it did pass, but I was not having fun nor was I fun to be around. My friends and I fell out and we parted company. I moved into a little bungalow on my own. Not long after I had recovered I picked up a serious reinfection of dengue and my body cramps were so bad I could hardly move. I barely slept.
    Something strange was happening to me. I was turning blue. Blood vessels throughout my body had burst and I was petrified. My feet and ankles were flecked with huge pothole sores that wouldn’t heal.Yet more medication and then it passed. This was it, the final straw; I was definitely going home. I needed to leave the island.
    Days passed and I was still there. It was almost Christmas and I wanted to call home. Unbelievably, I couldn’t remember my parents’ telephone number. How could that be? The number hadn’t changed in years and I had always remembered it before. I had written it down in Bangkok and I needed to get back there.
    Every day I set my alarm for 5 am to make the 15 -hour trip, but I
    would wake up telling myself that I would ‘leave tomorrow’. Physically, I was incapable of making that journey. I can’t remem- ber how many days I spent lying by myself in the bungalow, out of sight and out of the light.Any amount of light and my head felt as though it was being split open with an axe. How I wished I could sleep.
    By now I was desperate to return home. I wanted grey skies and rain; I wanted custard and the British sense of humour.Above all I wanted my family and friends.
    *
    There wasn’t a sound. So I closed my eyes and remembered the sounds of home, the sounds of streets and schools and girls in high shoes and wind whistling through the Calder Valley. I listened as my memories vibrated like strings.
    ‘Hello,’ came a voice from a man who had moved into the bun- galow next to mine.‘How are you? My name’s Robert.’
    He looked as though he had just stepped off a plane from London. He was alone and looked friendly. And pale, as pale as yogurt. I was drawn to him straight away. Robert reminded me of home. He was British.The first time I met him he wore a pair of green cord trousers and a light shirt.There were no beads around his neck or dangling from his wrists, no sun-bleached blond hair, no silver jewellery and no sandals.
    All of a sudden my spirits lifted and I smuggled out a smile.We talked about red double-decker buses, terrible food and the foul British weather.Wonderful. He asked about my life and how long I had been away. We didn’t get to know each other that well, or even spend a lot of time together, but it was so nice to be able to have a few words with someone who reminded me of