Left Bangkok on some day, it's getting hard to remember days of the week now to be honest. Anyway that and the fact that I was feeling a bit ill with a sore throat didn't help. We arrived in Hua Hin to a tropical downpour, lashings of water, flooded streets. Just getting off the train and to the shelter of the railway station ensured that we were soaked through, an umbrella would have been laughably useless. All that remained then was to haggle the price of a taxi to our destination, the distance to which we have no idea - giving us somewhat of a disadvantage in the looking sceptical and walking away stakes. Further compounded when a helpful porter grabbed our bags and threw them into the bag of some pick up truck with a tarpaulin on top. Standing in the pouring rain, water dripping from us like mini-Niagaras we made a brave attempt at bartering. How much? 400 baht. No way. We're getting wetter, if that's possible. 200 baht? The driver shrugs and looks disgusted. We settle on 250 baht, he's probably as sick as we are of the rain. We climb in and congratulate ourselves on saving 2 quid. I then realise that he is probably well aware that our destination hotel costs an obscene amount of money (it's even at the top end of our budget, but I haven't quite broken that news to Brian at this point), so we slink out at the end of the ride to be met by grovelling flunkeys bearing golf umbrellas, cold fragrant towels and glasses of sweet fresh fruit juice and our poor old driver slouches off to enjoy his 3 quid.

And so three days of heaven and hell - the hotel is gorgeous, we have our own villa in shades of taupe and caramel with private pool, roof terrace and, for Bri, our own tv and dvd. There's even a dvd library so we can watch all those dreadful films you would never pay to go and see, like the Da Vinci Code, feeling deliciously post-modern. It's also uber cool and hip, so much so that even the guests glide along in matching tones of cement and sludge looking trendy, avoiding everyone else's eye. It's nice, but only for a short while. The hell was that I got very much iller and we nipped off to hospital, where they declared I had a nasty bout of man-flu ( i.e. feels worse than it is) and gave me some antibiotics. I laid in bed for two days while Bri entertained me with news that taper relief is being withdrawn from next April and the way to avoid inheritance tax, according to The Observer, is to mortgage your house to the hilt and spend all the money. I weakly asked when that might happen only to discover that he'd nodded off, no doubt his own droning had bored himself to sleep.
Thank goodness we are away from the Observer (aka the Bible) for a while. As it is Bri is currently reading 'Stoned' the autobiography of that bloke that did something for the Rolling Stones. As you can see, despite his regaling me morning, noon and night with hilarious anecdotes from this bloke's life, none has really been retained by my memory in its penicillin addled state.

On the third day we moved south to the Aleenta. omg. This really is paradise, right by the beach, we are living in a thatched hut watching the waves crash onto the shore - it's just like the old backpacker days except it comes with en suite, air con, room service, ipod, outdoor plunge pool, robes and toiletries - and every time you pop out for a few minutes they're back in your room cleaning something or straightening something or leaving you the 'fruit of the day' or a little gift like scented eye pillows. Can't imagine how I've lived so long without one. Bri reckons the way to make money out here is to artfully arrange a coloured sash on the bed with a couple of contrasting cushions and it's a licence to print money. Sometimes he knows what he's talking about.

Tonight we will be watching Chinatown under the stars in the open air cinema sipping cocktails and munching on popcorn. Off course we will spare a thought for the poor people, but you've got your own lives to lead .......