Notes to self: The week that was

Some weeks, the days go by and you have nothing much of which to speak. Other weeks you are the victim of an attempted mugging, get knocked off your bike, have to spend the night in hospital with severe concussion and your best friend leaves the country for ever. Well, hopefully that doesn't happen to everyone, but that was my week.

Where to start? So, I was cycling through Bangkok to go and meet a boy for a cinema date. I dressed up in jeans, sandals, a sequinned top and a cute across-the-shoulder bag. I decided to take my bike because it's quicker, cheaper and cooler to arrive by bicycle.

Like an idiot, I had got comfortable in Bangkok. This is MY city and I know how it works. Well, I was wrong. I cycled with the bag sitting on my hip, and a couple of guys on a motorbike came by and tried to snatch it. I've heard about this kind of crime, but I've become a bit blasé about safety, I suppose. Thankfully, they didn't get the bag (a beautiful vintage Burberry number I picked up for $1, or Dh4, in a Cambodian thrift shop). But because it was an over-the-shoulder bag, when they tugged it, it knocked me off balance, and I must have fallen off my bike into a busy main road. I don't remember. In fact, I only remembered the attempted mugging after bystanders reminded me. Thank goodness I was wearing a helmet.

The next thing I do remember is sitting at the side of the road, chatting in bad Thai to some people who were trying to help me. They were asking me where I had been going, and I remember looking down at my (now bloody) sequins and thinking: "I don't know. Why am I so dressy?" They brought me water, smelling salt and the police, and let me use their phones to call the guy I was to meet (once I remembered where I was going), and Brock, my friend.

They both arrived and decided that I was talking even more rubbish than usual. Apparently, it's not normal to want to have a quick nap in the middle of a Bangkok pavement. So we went to hospital by tuk tuk, strapping my poor, beat-up bike at the back. It was kind of cool, I have to say.

Anyway, the doctors decided to keep me in overnight on IV. I drifted in and out of consciousness while Brock and my date sat and chatted quietly. At 10pm, Brock had to leave to catch his flight back to the US. I was on medication, so it didn't seem too bad at the time, but in the days that followed, all I wanted was to chat with Brock. I've been feeling sorry for myself because my head has been pounding, my eye is black and swollen, and, mostly, I just really miss him.

It's been the hardest thing about the week, by far. I come home and expect his dog, Puffin, to jump up and greet me. I expect to find Brock cooking something delicious in the kitchen and I want to call him to meet for lunch or to just moan about my headaches. I know, as expats, we've all been through this horrible parting business, but it never gets any easier.

My other friends have been marvellous, I have to say. I had three visitors at the hospital, even though I was only in for one night. I had people let me stay at their place so they could watch me for 48 hours, as the doctor had advised. My ex called from Greece, my family has been in constant touch and my friends here have been very good inviting me out and not giving me a moment to sit and mope.

Life never gets dull here. My confidence, my imagined role in Bangkok and my group's dynamics have shifted and changed in the past week. While it's scary and, sometimes depressing, it's also a chance to meet more friends, see a different side of the city and — this time around — be a bit more careful about looking after myself while I enjoy Bangkok.