Tennis in Pattaya and a Tornado in Reading

Sunday morning saw me wrenching myself from the wonderful world of sleep, donning a tennis skirt, and hitting the courts with The Husband. All seven courts at the Royal Cliff Sports & Fitness club, of which we're members, were booked on Saturday at the time we wanted to play so, to stop his sulking, I agreed to play for two hours on Sunday morning. Two hours isn't that long, I hear you all scoff. Perhaps not in colder climes, but in 30 degree centigrade heat and under a blazing sun in a cloudless blue sky, it is rather draining (especially with a slight headache from the previous night's activities!). At one stage, towards the end, my head was radiating so much heat that I thought it might be about to explode, but we ended our three sets with our bodies (just about) in one piece. I have to admit, it was fun (especially as I won all three sets!), and it was a great feeling to think that we still had most of the day to play with - our free time is even more precious than ever here as The Husband works six day weeks. We spent the rest of the day lazing by the pool at the club, just reading, swimming, chatting, listening to our iPods. Bliss. The weekly Skype with The Parents took place at 5.30pm, then I enjoyed a delicious roast cooked by The Husband. All in all, a pretty perfect Sunday.

This morning, I was eating my breakfast whilst reading my emails when I came across a link to an article on the BBC News website sent to me by The Mother. It appears that Caversham, the ... in which our ‘proper’ home is, was hit by a mini-tornado on Sunday, causing some damage to a primary school and a few houses. My interest piqued, and starting to feel a little worried now, I researched further. It appears that this freak tornado was only a couple of streets away from our house. From the little I know about tornados, they only cause damage to buildings in their direct path so hopefully our little house is still intact, but I’m sending an email to the letting agents just in case!

The Case of the Back-to-front Cardigan (And Other Stories from Last Night)

Last night The Husband and I went to the cinema. I love the cinema, especially here, and not just because the tickets are a tenth of the price they are in the UK, with double the leg room and reclining seats. For a couple of hours I get to wear clothes normally out of the question in a city which is perpetually warm. Thanks to the arctic conditions in the cinemas here (it seems to be common in South East Asia to jack up the air-conditioning in cinemas to frostbite levels), it is necessary to pull out the winter clothes getting moth-eaten at the back of the wardrobe. I pity the unsuspecting tourist who enters wearing just shorts and t-shirt. The upshot is, I got to wear jeans, a short sleeved t-shirt and a beautifully soft cardigan given to me on my birthday and previously worn just once (in the cinema, of course). The irony! Back in England I long for the days (which normally can be counted on my fingers) I can wear skirts and strappy tops and leave the house without it being necessary to take a coat, let alone a cardigan. I live in jeans there and they can become very boring, worn day after day. Here, jeans are a treat!

Speaking of cardigans, I seem to have discovered a phenomena unique to Thailand. In the course of one evening, I clocked two women wearing their cardigans back-to-front, with the buttons at the back. In both cases, the buttons were not done up, leaving their cardigans to flap at their backs like wings. I was obviously doing it all wrong and was probably deeply unfashionable, walking around with my buttons at the front of my cardigan. How embarrassing.

Before going to the cinema, we ate at a Japanese restaurant where I tried my first hot sake. I think it is safe to say that it will also be my last. I have had cold sake before, and quite enjoyed it, but somehow the heat brings out the strength of the alcohol and it was like drinking a neat spirit. It was more like an endurance test than an enjoyable drink with dinner and I found myself recoiling with each sip. It was strong. Very strong. And felt like I was sipping at a shot from the tiny thimble-like cup. I think I'll have an Asahai next time.

Day 4 on Samet: Do, a Deer

Other than the crystal clear waters, fish swarming around me as I swim over multi-coloured coral, and velvety soft sand cushioning my feet, it may surprise you to know that my overwhelming memory of Le Vimarn will be The Sound of Music. Yes, the classic musical film set in Austria featuring the Von Trapp family and Maria, the sweet and innocent young postulant. Why? Well, from morning to night the main restaurant in the hotel, where breakfast was served and which was situated next to the pool and a few steps from the beach, played the same music over and over again. Their only CD consisted of a lot of old jazz numbers, plus 'Do-Re-Mi'. Of course, a song taken from a film made in the 60s and set in Austria at the brink of WWII is an obvious choice to play in a five star resort in Thailand. It was rather surreal to be lying by the pool, looking out at palm trees and the tropical waters of the Gulf of Thailand, and hearing the inimitable voice of Julie Andrews singing 'Do, a deer, a female deer, ray a drop of golden sun, me a name I call myself, fa, a long, long way to run...' We did have a good sing-along to begin with, but upon hearing it for the tenth time (not counting the number of times it ran through our heads), it did start to become slightly irritating.

Snorkelling on the final day was better than ever, and I emerged as the Pied Piper of the sea. After encountering a huge shoal of black and white striped fish, I noticed that they were following me as I swam away. Each time I swam past fish, they joined the growing group of marine life keeping a close tail behind me. Eventually, I even noticed that fish were swimming towards me, only to join the crowd. As I took one last look behind me before swimming towards the shore, it seemed that every fish in the area had joined the party. It was incredible; a seething mass of multi-coloured fish of varying shapes and sizes following me wherever I went. It must have been the bright yellow flippers.

Later on, showered, changed and packed, we checked out and headed to the beach-side bar for a last drink before taking the speed boat back to the mainland. There was a cool breeze and I felt very relaxed as I sat back against the cushions and sipped my nicely chilled Chardonnay. Then out of nowhere, came a whistling sound and I was hit on the back by an unidentified object that exploded upon impact. Immediately came the distinct stench of vomit. I screamed and jumped up (careful not to spill any of my wine though, of course). "What is it? What is it? Have I been pooed on?" The splattered remains of the torpedoed object did look suspiciously like some sort of animal dung. As The Mother tried furiously to remove the pungent splatterings from my back, one of the waiters, presumably alerted by my screams, came over and asked us if we were OK. Once he clocked the brown substances on the cushions, sofa, and me, he informed us that it was in fact an over-ripe fruit which had fallen from one of the towering trees around the bar. "It smell very bad," he added, somewhat needlessly, as the whole area now stank of sick. The Mother managed to remove the offending splatterings from my top and, smelling slightly less of vomit now, I gratefully glugged my wine down. It wasn't the best end to an otherwise fabulous holiday, but then again, I've never had a tree poo on me before.

Day 3 on Samet, Part 1: All Hail the Hose!

Another day, another buffet breakfast. As I walk away from the fruit station with my carefully portioned pieces, I pass a table laden down with plates of food. There are only two people sitting at this table but they seem to have gone round the buffet and loaded multiple plates with everything they want, all in one go. Did they think that there might be a sudden rush of guests, like a plague of locusts, swarming over the food and leaving only crumbs in their wake? Or perhaps they felt that it would be too much effort to get up between each course? I like to think that the little bit of exercise I get walking to and from the buffet table might offset some of the calories consumed with each plateful. Plus, I don't look so greedy by having it all spread out before me. Pacing myself means that no-one really knows how much I've gorged. I find it helps in fooling myself too.

During breakfast we were yet again entertained by Le Vimarn Staff (they really should think about going on tour, they'd be a sell-out!), this time by a group attempting to clean one of the paths, or at least one rather small section of path. This task apparently required ten people: four women on their hands and knees diligently scrubbing away at the cracks, five men standing around doing not very much and one man directing them. Well, when I say directing, I mean sitting on a chair and glancing over at them now and again. The women were working incredibly hard and doing a fabulous job, not even pausing for breath. God only knows what the men were doing. Four had long-handled brushes and were half-heartedly sloshing the water around on one paving stone, whilst the other poured water from what appeared to be a child's bucket. This clearly wasn't working. The size of the bucket meant that probably only a cupful of water was poured onto the path at a time and as soon as the four men descended on it with their brushes, the water was gone.

Then came another Eureka moment, not from one of the path cleaners but from the gardener, who had obviously been watching this spectacle from the grass. He walked up to the group carrying his hose and the men watched on in amazement as water gushed forth and soaked the path. From the looks on their faces, we half expected the men to drop down on their knees and bow to the gardener as a God. It was almost as if they had never seen a hose before in their lives. Of course, this momentous event meant that work ceased for several minutes as the men stood gawping in awe so I'm not entirely sure the hose actually helped in the end. The women paid absolutely no attention to the hose or the gardener and carried on with their work. I'm sure there's something to be learnt from that.

Day 2 on Samet, Part 2: Snorkelling, Sandflies and a Seriously Funny Spectacle

Bikini donned, belly sucked in, I reconvened with The Parents on the beach. We settled ourselves on some sunloungers on a raised wooden platform (to keep that pesky sand away presumably!)and ensured that book, ipod, water and suncream were easily reachable so that movement from said sunloungers could be kept to a minimum. Well, The Mother and I did so anyway. The Father can sit still for approximately five minutes before he gets bored and looks around for something to do. The Husband is the same; it must be a male thing. He was quite content to sit still for a while however, as we were unexpectedly entertained for the first 20 minutes or so by a performance group known to us as Le Vimarn Staff. They had obviously decided that 10am, when many people were already on the beach, was the best time to deliver the aforementioned wooden platforms to their allocated spots. Of course, they had to move the sunloungers that were in those spots out of the way before placing the platforms down and moving the sunloungers onto them which, as you can imagine on a full beach, caused mayhem.

The couple next to us came back from a swim to find their sunloungers in the bushes as five men (three watching and two actually doing the work, as is usual in Thailand)scuttled around, trying to work out the best way to get the platforms off the tractor used to transport them onto the beach. At least they were actually away when the men moved their beds and belongings out of the way. Guests further down weren't so lucky. They were asked to get up and move away when the platform construction team moved in. The whole fiasco wasn't helped by the fact that they spent about five minutes each time scratching their heads and trying to work out the best way to get the platforms off the tractor, which angle at which to put them down on the sand, and then how to get the sunloungers onto the platforms. Safe on our platform (there when we arrived), we thoroughly enjoyed the show.

The rest of the day was spent reading, sunbathing, swimming and snorkelling. Previously too terrified to do so, I cleared a hurdle by snorkelling on my own for the first time, something of which I am very proud. I was startled a few times by some thin pointy fish swimming near the surface that, from the corner of my eye, looked distinctly like sharks but, other than that I was perfectly fine and discovered I actually preferred going out on my own. For one, it feels like more of an adventure, like you're discovering a whole unchartered underwater world for the first time (yes, I knew that I had only swum a few minutes out from the resort beach and many guests would have done the same but it felt unchartered to me!). It also meant that I wasn't in danger of being kicked in the face by the flippers of the person I had gone out with as I followed them meekly round the coral. The snorkelling was good, very good as a site that you could swim to from the beach. The resort had the best of both worlds really. A large sandy-bottomed area of calm sea to swim in without worrying that you are about to step on a giant sea urchin, and a few metres out, a large area of coral teeming with fish.

The afternoon concluded with a prematurely halted game of beach tennis. The Father, after having sat down for at least ten minutes, had been pestering the Mother and I to play with him and I finally relented. Unfortunately, not two minutes into the game, my ankles started to itch. Then my arms. Then the tops of my thighs. Sandflies. As soon as the sun started to lower in the sky, the sandflies came out in their droves. Of course, they only seemed to attack me; The Parents were completely unaffected, which meant that The Father was even more disappointed when I announced that we had to stop and go in. He said that it reminded him of the time when, as a child, after spending hours trying, he at last convinced his parents and all of his four siblings to play French cricket. His youngest brother was then promptly sick and the game was over before it began. At least we managed a few hits before retiring to our rooms.

Day 2 on Samet, Part 1: Just a Little Bite to Begin the Day

I woke early after a fairly restless night - it felt strange to be in a big bed all on my own, without The Husband there. I imagine he, however, probably slept brilliantly, able to fully stretch himself out in the middle of the bed, as he is not allowed to do when I am there. I met The Parents on the beach for a pre-breakfast stroll and was greeted with glorious sunshine, blue skies and a light, cooling breeze. The tide was in so we ducked under the low branches of trees normally far from the water, stepped over kayaks tied together at the top of the beach, and dodged the murmuring sea, creeping up to our toes. The sand was soft and cool under our feet and only our rumbling tummies convinced us to take the few steps from the beach up to the restaurant where the buffet breakfast was laid out.

We sat at an al fresco table and were immediately served fresh cups of steaming coffee, which we drank whilst looking out at the sea. Well, that lasted for about 30 seconds before the lure of the tables groaning with food was too much to resist and I undertook the preliminary sweep, calculating in my head what I would have and when. These things have to be thought out very carefully to ensure that you have room for as much as possible and don't spoil your hunger on a big bowl of cereal. I have seen many a person fall at this first hurdle. Rookie mistake. I pick up a small bowl and place a few pieces of pineapple, papaya and cantaloupe melon in it, topping it off with a spoonful or two of bircher muesli. The fruit is fresh and bursting with flavour, and the muesli is packed full of coconut slivers. A perfect starter. Time for course 2.

On my initial reccy I noticed a sushi station with an assortment of different types on five platters. A tad unusual for breakfast maybe, but then again I have on various occasions had fried rice, noodles and dim sum at this time of the day before. I do live in Asia, after all. So I selected four different types, spooned a small amount of wasabi onto the side of the plate and took it back to the table. The Parents weren't convinced that sushi at 9am was a good idea and declined to try any. It was absolutely delicious though, and a perfect breakfast dish. After all, the English have kippers and smoked mackerel for breakfast so why not sushi? Other than a couple of dangerous wasabi moments, which left me with tears streaming down my face and my nose close to exploding, it was possibly the most enjoyable part of my breakfast. So, to course 3.

I thought I would continue with the fish theme and order scrambled eggs from the egg station, topped with some smoked salmon, served on a slice of toasted crusty bread. Perfection. I just had room after this for course 3, or what I like to call 'a little sweet something' (this makes it sound less naughty than 'pastries and cakes'!). Accompanied by a second cup of coffee, I indulged in a pineapple pastry and a pan au chocolat. By now I truly was full but it was worth it. The only problem now was that I had to get my bloated breakfast belly into a bikini!

Day 1 on Samet: Eureka!

The Parents and I spent a very relaxing four days on Koh Samet, an island not far from Pattaya, during the week they were visiting us. We had an easy journey down there, being dropped off at the pier by our driver, A (yes, his English name is just the letter A, though I suppose it is better than some of the names we have encountered - fancy being called Porn, Turd, or Bum?), and then ferried across to the island on the hotel's speed boat. The first views of the small bay in which Le Vimarn Cottages & Spa is nestled amongst lush forest, promised a chilled few days on a secluded, powdery white sand beach.

Upon disembarking from the boat we were led to a cool reception area and handed sweet iced lemongrass and pandan tea as we were swiftly checked in. All good so far. We had booked two different room types, one a deluxe cottage and one a spa villa, the latter of which was more expensive than the former. We had requested the two rooms be as close to each other as possible but realised that they probably wouldn't be right next to each other. We therefore thought it a little odd that the two rooms they led us to were 603 and 604. Inevitably, we soon found out that they were both deluxe cottage rooms. We had not been given the more expensive spa villa at all.

Upon questioning this, the receptionist told us brightly that she had thought the most important thing was that we were together. She had obviously thought long and hard about finding a solution to the vexing problem of giving us adjacent rooms when the rooms we had booked were in fact on separate sides of the resort. Perhaps it was ridiculous of us to think that somone might have emailed to inform us of this rather than take the decision to give us a different room to the one we had booked. Nevertheless, it was sweet of her to give it so much thought. The problem was that she obviously hadn't give much consideration to the fact that we had actually already paid for the more expensive spa villa. She thought she had come up with a brilliant solution though, and seemed bewildered when we weren't quite as pleased as she. This was to be the first of what I termed the 'Eureka moments' of which the staff at Le Vimarn had so many.

We went to the resort's beach-side Thai restaurant to wait for a spa villa room to be cleaned and we saw the funny side of it all after a few beers and some delicious food. When we were eventually given the keys (after being shown a room in an entirely different resort - another 'Eureka moment') the room proved to be lovely, with a large terrace facing the sea. With everything now as it should be, we were able to begin the arduous task of lying on the beach, swimming and snorkelling.