Marion has gone trekking for 2 days so I spent today planning my next trip leg. Basically, I have visa hassle, as apparently since December last year, you don’t get 6 months anymore, you only get one, and I have just realised that mine runs out 29th August. (Genius travel agent failed to mention this, saying you got 6 months of course!) To renew my visa for a month I have to fly back into the country which means loads of hassle (going by bus only renews it for 15 days, so this is no good if I want to have uninterrupted island time, and if you over stay it’s 500bht a day (£10)!!

SO, on Saturday I get a 2pm bus 3hr bus ride from Pai to Chiang mai, a 10 hour bus from Chiang Mai to Bangkok, a 10 hour bus from Bangkok to Siem Reap, arriving at 6pm where i shall stay the night. The next day or day after, I get a 6 hour bus to Phnom Penh, where I can see a few friends, and the kids of course, and then fly back to Bangkok, to get 30 more days on my visa. (I have however, received a voucher from Air Asia this morning apologising for delaying us for 4 hours from Hanoi to Bangkok, so that will half the price of the ticket) ...So ...swings and roundabouts.

Had an incredibly pleasant afternoon; rode out of town a bit to a resort that has a pool and did some swimming. It's low season so the pool was deserted so I had the wonderful experience of slipping into completely still water and making the first ripples fan out across the surface as I swam across to the other side, and looking back and thinking "they are my waves; my path, my imprint on the world". Like being the first to tread in fresh snow and looking back to see the imprint of your feet have made where you walked. I always find it vaguely surprising, as they never quite look how I imagined they would.

Floating in the cool silent water, I could almost imagine being the only person in the world as I watched the clouds forming and drifting apart in the sky overhead.

Then I lay around in the sun drinking very cold beer and reading. I found an old copy of "the stand" by Stephen King... his best book and one of my very favourites, which was just the icing on the cake. Reading an old, well loved book is a bit like visiting great friends or family; throwing yourself down on their comfy sofa, snuggling up and letting the warmth happiness and familiarity of old faces and experience and affection sweep over you. I lay there until long after the sun had gone behind the mountain.