Tomorrow sees the start of the biennial Photokina show in Cologne. As anyone with even a basic knowledge of German knows, Photokina translates as “Camera Gear Wankathon”, and all the major players announce new toys in the hope of attracting extra media attention.

I already feel the stirrings of an ill-informed, opinionated treatise on the current state of the industry; so be ready to ignore that. But in the meantime, those of you with an interest in Micro Four Thirds may want to check out the latest releases from Panasonic and Olympus.

A visit to my doctor in Bangkok this morning where we study the results of my blood test and have a good laugh.

After at least ten years of an easy life, my pituitary gland has now fully woken up to the fact that my thyroid gland is not doing what it should. What the pituitary would like to do is shout “Oi you! Thyroid! Produce more hormones, you useless, lazy fucker!” In the absence of shouting equipment, it achieves the same end by throwing out Thyroid Stimulating Hormone (TSH) which is intended to tell the thyroid to produce more hormones.

Our visit to Bangkok started well enough. Arriving in the early evening, we decided to take a trip to the latest fad location, Asiatique on the river.

As you can imagine, I was an angelic child who never gave my parents the slightest moment of concern. Consequently, my mother took it upon herself to worry about trivialities, one of which was the state of my underpants.

I had a tendency to wear them even after they had developed holes (which I still do), and I had a tendency to wear them for longer than I should (which I no longer do). She worried about this.

She who must be obeyed is off to Bangkok for a seminar for a couple of days; so I am going too (not to the seminar which is something to do with safety, and I know all that shit). Back on Saturday and then off to Bangkok again on Sunday in preparation for a doctor’s appointment on Monday.

Expect no posts for a few days. But I am taking a camera with me so expect a shitload of shots when I get back.

The timetable was specific.

Yesterday was the beach wrestling for men, and today was the day for beach wrestling for women. The location was the Ambassador hotel, so I rolled up there on time with the editor of Patttaydaze in tow; both of us looking forward to capturing some hardcore woman on woman action for our expectant readers.

The Ambassador hotel is a monster of a place, built many years ago and not obviously maintained much since then. Temporary home to desperate tour groups who find themselves miles from civilisation.

The great coffee project was conceived some weeks ago, and the necessary film (capturing a few shots of coffee shops and many shots of other things,long since forgotten), had been passed through a camera. What was needed was a day to develop the film, and yesterday was the day.

The enterprise required three ingredients: Instant coffee, Vitamin C and Washing Soda. I assumed the last would be the most difficult to obtain given the endless complaining on relevant forums, but a quick visit to the swimming pool pump room in our condo revealed big bags of Na2Co3, which anyone with any chemistry knowledge, or access to Google on their phone while standing in a pool room, will tell you is Sodium Carbonate, a.k.a. Soda Ash, a.k.a Washing Soda.

Of course, being a member of the condo committee, it would be completely inappropriate for me to abscond with a tub full of the precious powder, at least not when anyone was looking. So that was the Washing Soda sorted.

Next it was off to a local shop to find the most awful instant coffee. All instant coffee is awful, but Caffenol experts recommend choosing the most vile product you can find as it is likely to include assorted chemicals which have the twin properties of aiding film development and removing the skin from your tongue should you be foolish enough to try and pretend it is actually coffee.

There were a couple of Thai brands that looked promising, but their ingredients included not only a semblance of coffee, but also milk and lashings of sugar; not at all what I was after. In the end I went with Nescafe Red Cup on the basis that it was the cheapest that seemed to only contain coffee; although the packet shouted that it had “enhanced recovery aroma!”, which was marketing speak for “has extra chemicals added!”.

Just the Vitamin C to purchase, so it was off to the holy grail of medications, the Fascino Pharmacy shop, a vault of a place that will sell you everything from a bed, to a bed pan, to a pair of operating room scissors that I have found ideal for dealing with an ingrowing toenail.

I went to the this shop, because I was after more than just a bottle of Vitamin C pills, I wanted the pure powder.

Hello, do you have any Vitamin C powder?

I don’t think we have, how about some Vitamin C pills?

No good, they might contain extra ingredients that aid digestion, or add colouring, or make them taste yummy.

I see (she didn’t, and was looking slightly nervous).

I just want pure asorbic acid powder.

We don’t have that (said too quickly, I want this man to leave).

That’s a shame.

How about these pills? Is 500mg OK?

If I have to take pills, I will just grind them up into powder.

By this time I think she was convinced that powdered asorbic acid was a prime ingredient in bomb making, so she was happy when I settled for a bottle of what appeared to be reasonably pure Vitamin C pills.

Likely being tracked by the CIA, I headed home and inspected my purchases/theft: