Paradise on Earth

For the last few years, Phil has talked about a little beach on the north coast of the island of Koh Phangan in Thailand. It's paradise on earth, she said. It's so secluded that you feel like you're a million miles from anywhere else, and that doesn't matter because between the beach bar, your private bungalow 10m from the sand, a few restaurants and the Tanaporn Massage hut, there's nothing else you feel that you could possibly need or that would ever matter. The sky's permanently blue, the sand white and the water turquoise; the palm trees sway in the breeze above the deckchair that you didn't have to arrive at 5am to nab before someone else did; cocktails are cheap and plentiful.
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As it turns out, she wasn't exaggerating one little bit. This place really is paradise, and we've got a whole week of it - a true luxury when it's been nearly three months since we've spent more than three nights in one place.

I find myself feeling guilty for doing so little, and feeling so relaxed. And then I realise that there's actually nothing else that I should be doing. The hardest decisions I had to make yesterday were what to order for breakfast (the banana pancake or tropical fruit salad and yoghurt?), lunch (pineapple salad or hot chips?) and dinner (pad thai or green curry?), and what time I should book in for my one-hour oil massage (possibly the best I've ever had, and just $10 including a post-massage-coma lemongrass tea).

Just in case you're not yet drooling with jealousy over you keyboard, let me show you where we're staying: Navigate to this page and weep.

Anyway, I'd better go. Beaches to lie on, turqouise water to swim in, crappy chick lit novels to read, massages to get (though my next one isn't til 8.30pm tonight - a strategic move, so that I can collapse into bed afterwards). Do you hate me yet?

E xxx