Well, Full Moon certainly was a heavy night and surpassed all expectations I held beforehand. The night before (evening of the 25th i think) we headed down to the beach for one of the warm-up parties. It was my first night back from the hospital and i was eager to get back out with the group and make up for some lost time. So with painkillers and anti-inflammatory drugs in my system, not to mention Valium still in pumping through my veins, we headed to the beach and started on the bucket trail. Stall after stall lined the beach for about 400m, selling the notorious buckets.......concoctions of Vodka/Gin/Rum (300ml bottles), a can of coke and a small bottle of redbull. For the price of 2 pound, it was going to be a cheap night. I'll be the first to admit, it wasn't a the smartest (prehaps 'sensible' is the more ideal phrasing) idea to drink in my current state but i took it easy (realatively anyhow) and had a superb evening.

The beach had about 500 people on it and fortunately wasn't raining like the previous evening when i was jumped. There were three main dance stages, pumping out mainly commercial house but with the occasional classis track thrown in e.g. Mamas & Papas 'Calafornia Dream''! Fireworks were being set off constantly and the colours on show were amazing. Vibrant bursts of red. orange and yellow, all adding to the hectic ambience of the beach party. The firs jugglers were superb but i was drawn to the skipping rope. A 20m long rope, set alight and being swung by two local lads raised above on bamboo frames. The fact that it was alight made it all the more enticing, a constant 'whoooosh' as it swung by and the sweeping, flame ridden rope created an almost perfect cylinder against the backdrop of the dark sky. I had to give it go! I watched to get the rhythm of the skipping and when it became free (which wasn't often with about 60 people crowded around it) with some 'dutch courage' firmly in my system, i jumped in. The constant jumping played havoc with my shoulder but i was giggling like a five year old. After about a minute and a half the speed of the rope got too much (the local lads gradually increasing the pace with each swing to try and catch those in the middle with the flaming rope) and i jumped out, just catching my ankle on the rope as i did. Great fun and after another strong slurp of my bucket, my shoulders trobbing eased away. That was at least until Luke popped into the equation. Submerged in the thrill of the evening and pretty drunk (as were we all along with the entire beach), he whipped his shirt, wet with sweat, across my back and shoulder. I fell to my knees in agony, trying not to turn around and yell somthing i'd regret in the morning that would've been a tad more expletive than 'you idiot!'. I sat down for a few minutes, listened to the group asking if i was ok and i raised my arm to show 'just give me a mo'. Couple of deep breaths, another slurp of my beach medicine and back onto my feet.

As for the rest of the night, i can only presume it went superbly well. For all i remember is dancing and laughing. The next thing i remember was stirring in bed, gradually opening my eyes, peeling my tongue from the roof of my mouth and sitting up. The glorious hangover had arrived. A pretty relaxed day with little to report on followed but the evening was the Full Moon Party, so i simply flushed out the prior nights excess' and lined my stomach for the party ahead. The girls decided that we'd paint ourselves with fluorescent colours, so the lads were shirtless and the girls wore very little. We painted one another and waited for Lori, a constant them of the week........waiting for Lori that is. Then we hightailed it down o the beach, all in a buoyant mood about the night ahead.

The night was superb, unfortunately my memory of it waivers slightly after a certain point, as was the case with the majority of people there a expect. once on the beach we were hit by the neon lights, blarring music, screams of laughter and stall after stall selling the notorious buckets. At the beginning of the beach was a cordoned off area for those feeling a tad 'tired' to lie down and sleep it off. A good idea, which also provided people with opportune photo's of people who'd hit their peak a little soon and were now passed-out in the sand. Young, local children were running around the beach trying to sell everything from glow-sticks and buckets to marijuana. About constantly until about 5am, shouting 'Bucket for you sah?!', 'Mate you wanna buy whiskey mate?!', 'Rastaman, you wanna buy smoke, marijuana mate......good price for you?!'

So the evening had begun, we got our first buckets in and they gradually turned into the second and then the third. Each time followed by a litre of water and each time taking slightly longer to get through. Each bucket seemed to add an extra step sideways when walking in a 'straight' line and before i knew it, dutch courage had set in and i was dancing. I use 'dancing' in a very broad sense of the term, as yourstruly has the rhythm of Peter Crouch with one leg!

But there i found myself on the bamboo stage above the crowd, shaking away to the music with little concern for anyone looking at me. Very different from how i usually am, for if i'm 'dancing' and make eye contact with someone, i stop dead, spin on my heels and glide to the bar. I spotted a bunch of gay Thai boys on the opposite stage bouncing around in virtually nothing............time had arrived to have a laugh at myself. Jumped down and told the group to get some pics of me, marched over to their stage and clambered up beside them. Before long i was shaking it away witht hem, tongue firmly in cheek and that's where the 'Where's Wally' looking photos come from. Then i was joined by the other lads and we all laughed at our own expense. This was the conitinuous story of the evening, drinking, dancing and laughing. I'm fairly sure i didn't make sunrise, for i'd like to think i'd remember if i had. But the evening was fantastic and spent with an amazing group of people from the very beginning of this year long trip.