The 2012 Formula 1 season has been a cracker so far. Close racing, loads of overtaking and no clear favourites emerging.

But the racing was rather pushed into the background last weekend when the circus went to Bahrain. Last year’s race was cancelled due to social upheaval, and there was much debate prior to the event as to whether this year’s Grand Prix would/should take place.

Like most of the countries in the region, Bahrain has problems. A ruling family from a sect that believes an imaginary friend should be worshipped in a particular manner, lording it over a population, the majority of whom believe that the same imaginary friend deserves a different kind of devotion. Cue riots, tear gas, detentions and stories of bad things happening. Not as bad as Syria or Libya, so generally ignored by the Western press; until this weekend.

On Sunday morning I was up early for a drive to Bangkok. Wearing my best shirt and second-best pair of jeans, I was comparatively smartened up in order to attend the AGM of our condo; to be held in the offices of our management company.

This was to be the last meeting in their offices, because we have kicked them out and a new company will take over in June; assuming endorsement from the owners at the AGM.

Mainly, it’s the annoying accent. Plus, I am sick of her looks. And I am very suspicious of this guy that seems to be hanging around our house. I did try to kill her but that seemed to be an impossibility; so I’m stuck with the lion faced, whiny bitch; who spends her days running some obscure business and only gives me a token of the takings. Never joins me in bed either.

Up at 05:00 to take She Who Must Be Obeyed to the bus station. Lucky girl is avoiding Pattaya Songkran day by attending a two day seminar in Bangkok. I return to bed and doze a little longer before arising to check out the box of goodness that finally arrived yesterday, no thanks to the wankers at TNT.

Within the box is a new tripod. I confirmed the need for a new tripod by having the wife carry around the old one a few times on photo trips. “This is very heavy and falling to pieces; you should buy a new one” was her sage advice. I did’t really care about the first part of her sentence, but the “you should buy a new one” phrase is always taken to heart.

But she was right about the old one too. It’s an aluminium monster that I have had for years. It weighs too much and is developing a tendency to shrink in length when it shouldn’t.

The tripod of my dreams (I do dream of tripods, and in my dreams the tripod always has two long legs and one tiny, stubby one. I don’t know what this means.) has always been a Gitzo; big bucks, light weight.

But then I discovered a British company called Three Legged Thing, with a sense of humour and a new range of tripods; and before you could say “Paypal”, I had slapped down an order for a “Brian” (all their tripods are named after famous rock guitarists).

It was my Brian that finally arrived yesterday, and I spent much of today fiddling with his many features, plus taking a photo of him next to a temple; just to prove there was a tripod from 3LT in Thailand.

The latest in my trilogy of “suck” posts (there may be more) and today I return to a topic close to my heart and even closer to my trachea, my buggered thyroid.

It’s been a few weeks now since I attempted to murder it. Since that time I have been chucking down handfuls of pills every day, including a triple dose of thyroid suppression pills, beta blockers, and a little white pill the purpose I which I forget (memory booster?).