Another morning, another luxurious 8am lie-in. Dressed and on deck with coffee in time to watch us dock, the lazy dock workers using a car to pull the anchoring ropes from the ship to shore (using a line thrown to them, in case you’re wondering).

It’s a big dock that looks how I imagine Immingham to look and feel. Big lots full of identical cars, containers in every direction, half a dozen large container ships in various states of loading. In the distance tall buildings but it’s not certain whether that’s Laem Chabaeng (the town) or Pattaya, the nearest place the guides recommend visiting. (It was Pattaya; Laem Chabaeng appears to be the port with no town attached)

I had none of the local currency and no idea whether there’s an ATM in the terminal building. That has a temple-esque design, a strange attractive anomaly in a busy port. The gangway would be open at 9am, passport checks from 8.45 but I decided to allow the early rush to go ahead, steal all the taxis, enjoy their day. This is my relaxed day, tomorrow is the 7.15am start and full day out.

The reason for the ‘please take a ticket and wait to be called’ for the passport checks has been revealed. The checks take place in the terminal which has no aircon and no seating – standard border control set up – so by throttling the rate at which passengers enter the terminal it minimises the time they have to stand in the heat waiting to be seen. Hard to argue with really, even if it does mean there’s a constant stream of announcements on the ship’s tannoy telling people who can now go on shore.

At around 11am got harassed via the tannoy to be seen by immigration – even if you don’t want to go ashore immigration want to see you. So socks and shoes on, and hello Thailand.

My passport was checked quickly by a border guard with a pretty smile. I didn’t tell her this. Three yards later a woman from Guest Services took my passport off me, handed me a receipt. Eight yards after that a man offered to take me to Pattaya for $13, return. I bought a ticket.

The bus was almost full and ten minutes late leaving. I joined in after 8 of those minutes so didn’t complain and still found a double seat to myself. Another bus with curtains, this time a full scale luxury coach with an expensive sound system.

Pattaya itself disappointed. I’m not sure how long the beach is but walked 3km of it, the entire distance a seedy shoddy beach holiday hell, English pub names next to Indian restaurants, go go bars and large trestle tabled open bars, empty at noon. There were also some massage parlours. I’ve been offered a Thai massage before but today I was offered 73 of them, at prices ranging from £5 to £15. They were all offered by women, young enough not to look old but none of them looking young. I saw one 20 yards from her place of work, returning with her lunch in her hands and smiled a greeting to her. She smiled back, the only genuine smile any of the 73 gave me, then remembered herself and asked, “Massage?”

If I had wanted a massage I’d have skipped the lot of them, gone to the tiny place I saw on a side street, none of the gaggle of girls outside, nobody calling out to passing tourists, just two Thai ladies sat inside getting their feet done.

A random turn and I was in what passed for the town’s gay quarter, the go go bars offering a very different experience and a curious lack of massage offers. I didn’t dwell, a harsh repeated message over a loudspeaker was an excessive volume, hurting my ears from half a street away.

After a 9km walk in 32C I was fed up of my head dripping on my back so decided to find somewhere to sit for a drink. First I needed cash, and I’d seen the prices, knew that around 400 Baht would suffice. That’s about 9 quid. I didn’t get it, the ATM tried charging me 220 Baht as a transaction fee and I refused on principle.

Western brands proliferated in Pattaya, an American on the bus celebrating as we passed a Starbucks, not commenting on the Macdonalds and Burger King either side and missing entirely the Pizza Hut which had a fleet of delivery mopeds. I was more interested in the random temple complex I found, not a tourist in sight, locals removing their shoes to enter any of half a dozen small buildings. I stayed outside, took a couple of photographs from a distance, got ignored.

I found the best Thai food in town but didn’t try it.

Instead I sat by the shopping centre we were using as a bus stop, drank my water, found free wifi from a local cafe. It expired every five minutes, but enough to find out the cricket score. 121/2, Root and Bairstow getting nicely settled.

The bus tickets had a return time on them and I was early. A bus arrived, an hour ahead of when mine was scheduled and rapidly filled, the people due to leave at that time enough to fill the seats even without another 20 of us ready to return early. A second bus pulled up behind it, the people with the correct tickets dashing forward in celebration. I strolled up behind them, waved my ticket to the drive and he waved me on.

Thailand outside of the beach area feels quite Western. Too hot for most of Europe but heavily developed, the hour’s drive from the ship never leaving urban areas, the dual carriageway with four lanes each way lined with car showrooms, offices and Makro food stores. Those highlighted the more apparent differences, each Makro carpark having a secluded area containing a shrine. Other offices and factories had 10 foot high photographs of members of the royal family, a fragile monarchy that fears mockery.

While there are plenty of mopeds the non-central areas have mainly cars, every cafe offers wifi, prices are much higher than Cambodia or Vietnam. Then you see the tangled mess of electricity wires, healthy and safety concerns perhaps lower on the agenda.

Traffic is heavy, pretty much the whole distance, giving me time to see from teh bus the non-tourists streets of Pattaya and Laem Chabang. Shops open to the street entirely or safely ticked behind glass with aircon, some restaurants offering both options. The multitude of massage parlours are absent and the signs no longer include English and the prices are.. hmm. Noodles for 10 Baht, not 140. A five story building painted in two-tone blue, the same colour scheme as a couple of Cambodia but nothing to explain why, whether it’s more than coincidence.

I wish the bus had dropped me in this sleepy resdietial part of town, locals walking with their children, thousands of mopeds for sale from a dozen shops, ordinary people doing ordinary things. It’s more interesting than the horrifying beach strip which channelled the worse of Blackpool and threw the bad bits of Brighton in with it.

Outside of the beach the global brands remained, reinforcing the westernised feel of the towns.

I did though photograph a cat, its tail curiously stunted (and matched by another I saw), ignoring me and others on the pavement as it stared intently under a table, something clearly hiding in the shadows. Its owners saw me photograph it, caught my eye, gave me a big smile.

Back at the port I avoided boarding for over an hour, investing 5 USD in two litres of water (one of which I’ll take with me tomorrow) and three hours of internet access. I didn’t need three hours but got good value nonetheless, with all my photos uploaded, email checked and a chance to watch (via text commentary) Bairstow get his century.

Back on board I changed shirt and went straight to dinner. The dining room was quiet and I ended up ordering while sat alone. Before the food arrived two very old Australian ladies did, followed later by an English couple. He displayed remarkable and distressing levels of ignorance over Brexit, interrupting the Australian ladies to berate the EU and claim Theresa May is doing exactly the right thing. Comically he explicitly stated support for her deal on the Irish border while describing it as doing exactly what it wont achieve. Once I realised he wasn’t neither listening or thinking I stayed quiet, and the Australian ladies engaged me in other conversation. One of them lives near the barrier reef so I have some tips for my time near there.

The view from the dinner table – the maitre’d likes sitting me by the rear windows.

Tonight’s entertainment was performed by locals brought onto the ship just for the night. They did a mix of traditional Thai dances, accompanied by a couple of xylophones, some drums and a bloke with a range of irritating wind instruments. The dancing varied tremendously, ranging from dull shite to amusing acrobatics. Sadly they mostly veered towards the former and when for their final song the troupe roamed amongst the audience trying to pull people onto the stage I legged it.

More laundry and actually set my alarm for the morning. I need to gather at 7.15am for my day out.