We flew directly from Bangkok to Phnom Penh - it was only a 1 and a bit hour flight but they managed to feed us a 3 course meal plus soft drinks, wine and coffee, so it was a bit like the food Olympics, I was just nibbling my after dinner mint and sipping my Courvoisier as the captain announced we were starting our descent. We had to pay $20 for our visa when we landed but it was all very easy. Our taxi driver into town drove at about 8 miles an hour so Brian felt quite at home.

We met up with our new group - 2 American honeymooners , John and Rebecca, 1 American photographer, Inger, 1 Swiss girl, Sandie, 1 Japanese girl, Kyo, and 2 English guys, Andy and David - who is a sandal and sock wearing type who wears the entire Millets catalogue at all times, and never leaves home after dark without a torch dangling from his bum bag.

We spent our first day at the Genocide Museum which was on the site of the prison and torture chambers used by the Khmer Rouge between 1975 and 1979. Cambodia has a chilling recent history, of which the years under which they suffered the communist rule of the Khmer Rouge were the worst in a long line of occupation, bombings and wars. But the Khmer Rouge, under the tyrannical rule of Pol Pot managed to destroy almost an entire country in just 4 years. Forcing people from their homes and hospital beds they evacuated Phnomh Penh, the capital, in just a few days. Many died, or where left for dead on the roadside, particularly of course the old and the infirm. Anyone with an education or who had worked for the government was killed. Just the simple act of wearing glasses would single you out for execution. Those who survived were forced into manual labour for 12 hour days, with daily communist indoctrination - to rebel would mean you were sent to a 're-education centre' - a euphemism for execution, usually in one of the many Killing Fields. They were fed so little food that of the 7 million population before Pol Pot, only 3.5 million were still alive 4 years later - 1.7 million had been killed by the Khmer Rouge, the rest had died from malnutrition. Of the 10,449 inmates in the Tuol Sleng prison, only 7 people survived the end of the war. It's an emotional place to visit, and particularly so given that all this happened less than thirty years ago.

After a pretty downcast luncheon we perked up a bit in the afternoon and visited the Royal Palace, where the staff wear a different colour uniform every day, according to the day of the week. Wednesday was leaf green day, not to be confused with Friday which is teal green day. Imagine if you woke up and got the day wrong, how would you live it down?

We went for a massage with blind masseurs later. I imagined that they would have extra sensitive fingers but it turns out I was mistaken. What they have lost in their ability to see has been more than made up by for by the pointyness of their fingers and their unnerving ability to press them insistently into the most sensitive parts of my body. I am not planning a return visit.

The food in Cambodia is really good - some of the best we've eaten so far. One of the restaurants we visited did have fried tarantula on the menu, but we were all too timid to try it. Luckily the men at the next table were a little more brave and obliged so we could take a photograph. I don't think any of us (least of all them) were prepared for the size of the beasts that arrived, complete with hairy deep-fried legs, arranged daintily on a plate together with carved carrots and prettily arranged lettuce leaves.

I went to the night market after dinner with some of the group to check out the spending possibilities in our new country. Turns out there will be a few, particularly of the silk scarf variety at least. Bri stayed at the hotel to warm up for the England v Croatia match which he plans to watch, live, at 3 a.m. Apparently he will be doing this in our bedroom, but, he has assured me, it will not disturb me in the slightest.

I wake at 3.05 a.m. to find the room bathed in an ethereal glow. I suspect this is rather what the Northern Lights look like, only not quite as good. Brian is hunched in front of the television with the sound off, looking unhappy. I fall back to sleep eventually, convinced that there will be the usual nail biting finale but it will still be OK. Sadly, it was not to be. Brian and Andy (his new best friend, a co-football type person) spend breakfast the next day wailing and gnashing their teeth after England were knocked out of some European World Cup Championship second-leg play-offs of some sort. I realise that this might mean a little less football next summer and suppress a tiny cheer.