Peter

Peter arrived last Friday. We had a blast. He brought with him dime bars, after eight mints and a litre of jamesons Irish whiskey.

That first night we got toasted on the upstairs balcony. At some point during the celebrations I cracked my head and cut my face on a window or something. W watched trailer park boys and listened to torn legacy, Taj Mahal and caravanserai by Santana. It was fantastic.

The next day we took a quick trip with Grace to the temple and the cave, before heading off to cabana beach with Oi. We checked into the nana beach resort and did some high living. We had a seriously delicious pizza at the Mali blues bar and went for a swim in the pool. I crashed out early.

On Sunday we came home, stopping at a rocky beach along the way. It's a peaceful and beautiful spot. We came home and talked into the night.

By a miracle I had been given the week off work, only having to go there and sign in each morning. So we were free to take bike rides, take trips to tescos and make wonderful hams and mustard and peanut butter and cucumber sandwiches. It was great fun.

We did do good bike rides and played lots of games, including a killer game of carcassonne with Oi.

Tragically, he had to return tonight and is on his way back home as I write.

It was an incredible visit and I felt awfully sad after the van took him away. But as my happy busy life collecting Grace from school took over, and gazing across the sports field full of happy Thai kids heading home, I felt very warm about where I was and the wonderful situation I am in. Having just waved farewell to my oldest, dearest friend and riding through the lush farmland of chumphon to pick up my daughter and meet my wife at the school. I couldn't help think how blessed I am.

Keep having fun, Peter. Keep having fun.