Well, here we are. It is the last day of our world trip … and therefore the last entry for this diary.

Having done the beaches of Phuket, Bangkok’s markets, and seen the Kwai bridge, Brigid felt that we should make an effort to see the sights with which Thailand is most readily associated – the great Buddhist temples. Of course, we have already seen lots of temples.

You can hardly miss them, with their brightly glazed tile roofs, and golden ornaments. But Bangkok’s temples are special. We couldn’t see them all, but we planned a circuit that would take in the Royal Palace, the Emerald Buddha, and Wat Po (home to the gigantic ‘Reclining Buddha’).

(To get an idea of the scale of the Reclining Buddha, look at the tiny figure silhouetted in the doorway at the far end of the temple.)

Brigid also wanted to visit ‘Old Siam’ (a shopping mall with a difference), and Sampong Lane in Chinatown.

We were completely awestruck by the Royal Palace and its temple. We posed for photos beneath the great enamelled guardian statues. In the open courtyard we listened to the gentle tinkling sound of the wind chimes that adorn the eves of the temple roof. Then we removed our shoes to gaze at the statue of the Emerald Buddha high up on his throne. The Buddha has three outfits of clothes for the ‘dry’, ‘rainy’, and ‘cold’ seasons, which the King changes personally as befits the season. Being the ‘cold’ season, the Buddha was wearing a golden cloak.

Today is the second anniversary of John’s father’s death, so before leaving the temple, we each made a little offering to the Buddha for Mick and for ‘absent friends’.

Wat Po was a little different in that it was undergoing renovation works and photography was allowed inside the temple, which is highly unusual. The Reclining Buddha is so vast, that one can only actually see all of him from one corner of the temple.

We ate lunch in a steakhouse in Old Siam. The restaurant clearly had an extensive menu, but only the grilled steaks were given an English translation. Neither of us wanted a heavy meal, so Brigid ordered Pad Thai (fried noodles with shrimps and bean sprouts), a standard Thai dish, but John wanted stir fried beef with peppers or oyster sauce with plain rice. None of the waitresses understood a word of English, so John sulked over his beer – it was, after all, 3.30pm and we had had nothing since breakfast – and decided not to eat at all. Suddenly Brigid remembered that the Lonely Planet guidebook includes a short glossary of food – together with its Thai translation. Eureka! There on page 146 was ‘Beef with Oyster Sauce’. We beckoned the waitress over, and pointed at the Thai script. She beamed, and disappeared into the kitchen with John’s order.

The dish, when it arrived, was quite the best Beef in Oyster Sauce that we have tasted anywhere in Thailand (though perhaps a little spicier than most).

Sampong Lane went on and on. We moved slowly through the milling crowds in this narrow street, where the stalls’ canopies completely blot out the sun for most of its length. The market sells everything, but is heaven for collectors of fridge magnets, hair ornaments, and junk jewellery.

We caught a ‘tuc tuc’ to take us to the Skytrain. However, the driver had other ideas. “I take you to a shop. You no have to buy. You just say ‘very nice’ while I buy petrol.” Yeah, yeah, OK. We had heard that ‘tuc tuc’ drivers have a reputation for doing this sort of thing. Basically they get a fee for ‘introducing’ customers, and a commission on anything they spend in the shop. John and I weren’t in the market, but we made all the right noises until we felt it was safe to leave. Eventually we caught the Skytrain to Sukumvit for dinner.

We had an excellent curry at the Maharajas Restaurant but, by the time we arrived at the airport, Brigid was complaining of an upset stomach …

What a way to end the trip!

Breakfast had to go on the room bill this morning, as yesterday’s shopping spree had cleaned us both out of cash. John went to the ATM, while Brigid finished yesterday’s diary entry. (Thank heavens we are going home tomorrow. They are getting longer and longer …) Then we left the hotel to find the ferry landing for Thonburi Station. Today’s plan was to see ‘The Bridge Over The River Kwai’ at Kachanaburi.

Using Nancy Chandler’s map as our guide, we arrived at Tha Phra Arthit, where a long-tail boat was just mooring. A Thai woman called to us from the bridge. “You want tour?” she asked, pointing at the boat, “350 Baht”. Brigid replied that we only wanted a river taxi to Tha Rot Fai, across the river. “OK. 250 Baht,” she said.

Now call us stingy, if you will, after all 250 Baht is only about £4. But, according to Nancy Chandler, long-tail boat fares start at 5 Baht, and we were only going two stops down the river! Grumbling, we set off on foot to find a closer ferry landing.

We took a slightly circuitous route, through the University grounds, but eventually emerged at Tha Maharat ferry terminal. The crossing to Tha Rot Fai cost us 2 Baht each!

The ticket office at Thonburi Station was closed, but an immensely helpful, English-speaking, policeman told us a train was due to leave for Kachanaburi in about an hour. What was less clear, was how long the train journey would take, and whether or not we would be able to catch a train back to Bangkok in the evening. The guidebook suggested that a bus runs from Kachanaburi at about 7pm, so we threw caution to the wind and bought a couple of single tickets.

Rattling through the Thai countryside on a third class train, windows wide open, is a strangely relaxing – if noisy – experience. Again, the train was scrupulously clean.

At regular intervals during the three-hour trip, an attendant appeared with a broom to sweep the carriages. The buffet service was provided by individual vendors, selling fresh satay, cold drinks, nuts, and fruit. At each station they would switch trains, giving a certain variety to the snacks on offer. At one station, a prolonged stop for hitching or unhitching freight cars allowed the passengers to take advantage of the trackside market.

We were slow to exit the station at Kachanaburi, which meant that most of the ‘tuc tucs’ and other motorised transport had already gone. Instead, we were approached by a couple of rickshaw operators, who promised us that the trip to the Bridge would take no more than 15 minutes – and they would show us the Allied cemetery as well.

Actually the Bridge itself was a bit of a circus. Of course we were glad to have gone to see it. But the sight of hundreds of people, elbowing each other out of the way to get their photos on the narrow track, surrounded by the usual tourist paraphernalia, brought mixed emotions. (Bearing in mind we are talking here about the infamous “Death Railway” where 16,000 Allied POW’s and countless thousands more labourers from neighbouring Japanese-occupied countries, died during construction.) Particularly sickening in this respect, was the behaviour of a group of five or six young Japanese men, who giggled and teased each other as they gathered their ‘happy snaps’. One has to ask oneself what the Japanese teach today’s children about this great feat of engineering.

We spent a few quiet minutes’ reflection at Kachanaburi’s war cemetery, before catching the bus back to Bangkok. At least most of the POW’s have known graves, which is more than can be said for the other labourers …