Something quite horrifying happened to me in 2009. I feel that everyone should know about this so they can be prepared and be aware that this kind of thing happens.

It's the 5th day of my long awaited 3 week holiday in Thailand. Already I had been robbed, beaten against the coral, and developed the fear of driving a scooter, the holiday was going great. Honestly, I was having far more good times than bad. I was with 3 boys, at first the vulgar talk of shit, piss, wanking, hookers and food was amusing (although by the last week I longed to bitch about that girl who had her tits out on the next sun bed, none of the boys would oblige especially as they were fairly nice tits). Should have brought a girl! Maybe then the most horrifying thing ever would not have happened.

The previous day was the perfect Thai day, scooter to the beach, float in the sea boost the sun tan and eat yummy food with yummy coconut shakes. I think that day was the best day of my life so far. I felt completely in love with my boy who was scooting me around, my tan was just they way i liked it, i was wearing my new Ralph Lauren bikini, the beach was as clear as my aqua quartz pendant that hangs around my neck, the sun was prickly and the beach was dotted with perfect yachts and speed boats. The only thing missing was my million pound bank account, but the prices in Thailand meant you felt like a millionaire.

All the bad things had happened; injury, robbery, and fear. It was time to relax and have the hoiday of a life time!

The fifth day: Brett, the lady chasing sun kissed guy with all the bright ideas, said
“Hey you know that this island has a waterfall”

Ste being the nature type was seriously excited to see a waterfall. Ollie wasn’t bothered either way and I wanted Ste to be happy but being me I asked “Where is the water fall?” Boys: “Arrh doesn’t matter we have scooters.”

I was out numbered, water fall it is. So on the road we go and the road was fine the jungle was a safe distance away and then there at the top of the Mountain the road stopped and the jungle track appeared. That’s it I was ready to turn round and tell the boys “Fuck you I’m not driving down into the jungle!” But they continued. We bumped into a bunch of American lads on scooters, they told us to turn back, we freaking should have but Brett lead the way!

Down the weathered brown jungle track we go and the fear was back “I’m gonna fall, I’m gonna fall!” I could see the locals smiling at us, I knew what they were thinking “Hehe those stupid tourists on scooters!”

Down and down into the jungle we go 40 mins on the track I had conquered the fear somewhat.

Me: “Where is this waterfall? Round the next corner, round the next corner!” then at that moment my instincts kick in “I should get off, let me off Steeeeeeeee!”

Yep, going at 2 miles per hour I fell off and busted up my knee and six months later it still hurts, not lying it really does especially when it’s cold. I fell off the red scooter, blood was trickling down my shin and dust and small rocks were entwined with ripped skin. Ste had a small scratch on his anckle.

The only way was forward turning back meant all that trouble again, plus we had reached that waterfall which turned out to be a minging cesspool of piss. Great!

Further along the track we go and I see the beach there must be a road. No. No road and no easy way back. After asking the one bar man for some first aid and being jealous of Brett who ran straight to the sea not even looking back to see if I hadn’t died of blood loss.

We made our way back up and down the jungle track , me being extra cautious therefore walking up parts of the mountain with a bleeding knee. We finally made it to normal roads and then to a pharmacy where the chemist seemed to have seen this all too regularly. He gave me more first aid stuffs and I went back to the bungalow. I strapped myself up with none stick pads and self stick bandages and went out on the town hobbling behind the boys. I was in pain but the 2 for 1 mojitos made me forget. That night was hot and sticky I wore long jeans to cover my wound.

Getting back to the bungalow was a relief, I was worried that my wound would go funny if I kept the bandage on. So in bed I pealed back my first aid and aired my knee, I figured it would be best to keep it like that over night to allow the scab to form.”Good idea” said Ste.

So I fell asleep. By now your thinking what is the most horrifying thing ever??? Keep reading and you’ll see!

I fell asleep and I had a strange dream. Lisa (my good friend who I left in Korea for two reasons: 1. she had to work. 2: she had to look after the Bo- the needy cocker spaniel who has an eating problem) was talking to me and she was kinda floating towards me. Her face was smiley and as she reached me she pulled out a knitting needle and started to stab my wounded knee. In my dream I knew that Lisa would not do such a hurtful thing in her life, so I woke up.

The pain was still there. The pain of a needle stabbing me in the knee, I woke up Ste.

“It hurts, my knee, it hurts!” I said in the moon lit bungalow.
“Relax, go back to sleep you just caught it on the covers” said Ste
“Owwwww that really hurt something’s not right” I sqwealed
“You want me to put the light on?” he said in a very grumpy tone
“YES!” I grumped back

I sat up and in the moonlight I could see a black blob on my knee. “Shit!” I thought “I’ve got a blood clot”

The light went on. My eyes focused. It wasn’t a clot. COCKRAOCH! It was a black and yellow cockroach munching on my knee!

Scream I did! Ste jumped out of bed, covers went everywhere. Crying and OMGs.
Next thought: Where is he? That bastard!

In the covers!!! Covers went everywhere. Crying and OMGs. Ste spotted that bastard escape down the hole in the floor boards.

“Why would they do that?” I blubbered “Get me the antiseptic!”

Ste stayed awake all night while I slept and recovered from the trauma. The bandage was on my knee for the rest of the holiday. I couldn’t do anything; the fucking thing would not heal! Not even a little!

The scar is pretty bad but the odd thing is that you cant even tell that a cockroach ate me. His cuts were so clean that it hasn’t even left a mark. The only scar is my new founded fear and hatred of cockroaches!