Rare birds

We had been quizzing our tour leader for a week as to who would be joining the group in Shanghai. We knew that the Canadian girls and one of the couples were leaving. So that meant we would be getting five new companions. The gay lads were hoping for a fit gay man, hardly surprisingly. I was hoping for a fit woman. Well, any woman over the age of 23 who wasn't travelling with a wheeled suitcase (as the Canadians were).

The news finally came from head office that we were being joined by three men and two women (a 34-year-old New Zealander and a 27-year-old American). Antipodeans are among my favourite women because they are always up for some banter and are usually very sporty. And after the fun I'd had with the Kiwi girls in Vietnam, I had high hopes for the New Zealander.

A few days later, the seven old hands arrived early for the welcome meeting. But only four of our new buddies had turned up. No need to tell you that the missing person was one of the women. 'Your reputation precedes you,' shouted one of the gay lads, to much hilarity. At least the Kiwi girl was there.

The following morning, the American girl turned up. She was very personable and very attractive - and took about 30 seconds before she mentioned her fiance. So that left four single men and one single woman in the group - and an overall ratio of nine men to three women (one of whom was 60).

The tour leader said she had never heard of a group with so many men. Hearing that was difficult enough, but my pain was exacerbated when I discovered that the five people who left our group to join another tour were now travelling in a group of 10 women and two men. Four of the women were Irish (my favourite nationality) - and one of them was so stunning that she made the Corrs look plain. A couple of nights later, we bumped into another tour leader in a lift, who was complaining that he was fed up with the lack of male company - his group comprised nine women.

Unfortunately, the Kiwi girl soon struck up a very close friendship with one of the gay blokes. Whether she was a regular fag-hag I didn't know because I didn't have an in-depth conversation with her until three days from the end of the trip. When I did get to know her, I really liked her. But listening to two weeks of sexual innuendo about me 'turning' and continual jokes about what a failure I was with women was hardly going to make me appear a decent catch.

To cap what had been a miserable month on the woman front (but perhaps one of my best-ever trips), the group leader seduced one of the other blokes (who had serenaded her with a schmaltzy rendition of I Can't Help Falling In Love With You).