Every single pair of pants that I’ve ever bought in Asia, the stitching has gone in between the legs. Gone at the crutch as my Grandma would have said. Every. Single. Pair. Either somebody is playing a cruel joke on me here, or my bum cheeks are gradually inflating by the day.
The only positive to this Thai haberdashery error is that there’s always a gentle cool breeze wafting through my knickers. To calm me down. An onsite fan to cool the hot flushes that accompany a woman of my age who is prone to bouts of frantic rage.
My desire to indulge in some yoga came out after I witnessed the perfect family in India. Perfect kids, perfect Mother. I concluded that this must surely be a result of partaking in either a) dancing around the full moon naked, b) drinking lots of wine, or else 3) taking regular yoga classes.
I couldn’t do the first without being reported to the police by my teenagers, the second was proving impossible in India, and so that left the yoga. Something I’ve been threatening to do for years but have somehow always talked myself out of it. (more…)
After being tipped off that the only place to experience pure paradise in India was Om Beach in Gokarna, we headed there. Me, a 47-year-old woman in the throes of her midlife crisis, her confused husband and their two hormonal teenagers. All trotting around the world on a year-long adventure. Writing a travel diary about how I never seem to have enough money for wine. (more…)
I‘m finding it difficult two write a big grown-up Sri Lanka travel blog. I’m struggling with remaining positive and upbeat every day while travelling the world with my family. So, instead, today you are going to get my Bog Travel Diary. Part 2. You can read #1 here. I warn you though (more…)