homeward bound

It's 3pm on Ko Samui, and my final day in Thailand. I fly from this island to Bangkok at 8.30pm, before connecting to my early morning London flight.

I fully expected this part of the holiday to be the most difficult - the final hours in paradise before the return to 'blighty'. Frankly, the way I have been treated in the last two hotels I've stayed in means I am actually happy to be leaving. I'm not going to elaborate at this stage other than to say there have been several outrageous attempts to rip me off. I tried writing a blog post yesterday about it but got so angry typing I stopped and went to the beach. Not one of the hardest decisions I've had to take.

I'll reflect on what this means in terms of my future travelling intentions when I'm in a better mood. Not sure what the journey home will be like due to a multitude of factors. I'm hoping Thai Airways can be bothered to liven up my12 hour flight with so much as a film to watch. They didn't bother on the way out here, but I'm trying to be optimistic. More importantly, Norwich are away at Portsmouth this evening - and the game kicks off and finishes when I'm in mid air. Theoretically, they could be a Premiership team when I switch on my phone at Heathrow. Or promotion could look unlikely, depending on the result of the game and Cardiff's at home to Middlesbrough. Best not to think about it, really. Fat chance...

royal wedding

On Friday 29 April, I woke up at around 9.30am feeling refreshed and energised. It was great not to be ill or hungover, and I was looking forward to having a whole day to enjoy on Ko Tao. On far too many occasions in the past, I have slept in past midday when on holiday, which is a terrible waste of time when abroad.

I took myself over the road from my hotel to a charming little cafe opposite, and ordered coffee and a fresh fruit juice. Feeling a bit peckish, I decided to order a light cooked breakfast that would sustain me until the evening. There were plenty of interesting options to choose from - in the end I plumped for a German breakfast of bacon, salami, fried onions, potatoes and fried eggs. I was expecting a small portion, but was instead presented with a mountain of a dish that probably causes thousands of men in Frankfurt to have a heart attack every year. It was too much, but the trouble is I really like bacon, salami, fried onions, potatoes and fried eggs - so I covered it in salt, black pepper and HP sauce and ate the lot.

I decided a good walk would help fend off any impending heart attack caused by breakfast, and so I went for a stroll around the Sairee area. It was fantastic to feel the heat and humidity, to see beautiful coastline to my left and forested mountains to my right. I felt enormously contented. Then, I turned back towards my hotel down a small street littered with lots of bars and my sense of being in paradise was shattered. Bar after bar was advertising live and uninterrupted coverage of the Royal Wedding on blackboards outside - and even offering 2 for 1 drinks deals on buckets of whisky and red bull to guzzle during the ceremony. It was as if this tiny island in the Gulf of Thailand had been converted into a Prince Harry theme park.

I'm not going to start a debate about the pros and cons of monarchy - I'm quite sure that's been going on in the media back home, although blissfully I haven't read a British newspaper for more than a fortnight. I would, however, like to deconstruct some of the aspects that intrigued me when I saw that these bars were screening the wedding.

Firstly, who goes to a bar when they are on holiday to watch a wedding? I don't care whose it is, to me it just seems bizarre. Outside the bars, coverage of Wills n Kate's big day was advertised on blackboards above other events most people would normally go to a boozer to watch - Chelsea v Tottenham, Arsenal v Man Utd. To see a couple's nuptials billed alongside Premiership football looked a trifle strange. It reminded me of the only time I have been to a bar to watch a non-sporting event. In 2007 I attended the Labour Conference in Bournemouth for work. It was at this event that speculation was rife that Gordon Brown would capitalise on his honeymoon as PM and opinion poll lead over the Tories by calling an early election. Labour activists could talk about nothing else, and were excited about the prospect of defeating Cameron's Conservatives in a snap poll. When Brown delivered his conference speech, it was widely believed that he would use it to call the election. So everyone attending the event was desperate to watch the speech, and also to see it with their friends in case the poll was called. This meant the bars of Bournemouth were packed as if an England World Cup match was being shown - for a speech by Gordon Brown. I even saw two delegates ordering tequila chasers with their pints. In the end of course he didn't announce the election in his speech, and afterwards it felt to most people like they had just watched a 0-0 draw with Belgium.

Anyway, I digress. The second thing that intrigued me about the screening of the wedding was the choice of drink on offer - buckets of spirits and red bull. Thai red bull is very popular with young British travellers because of its strength. Indeed it is so strong that it is banned in the UK. The reason? It's got speed in it. So, the monarchy loving Thais with some of the most hardline drugs laws in the world were offering buckets of cut price amphentamine laced drinks to watch the happy couple tie the knot. I don't know about you, but it all seems a bit surreal to me.

I spent the afternoon on the beach, relaxing and reading, enjoying the sunshine. Regardless of what anyone thinks of the monarchy, I was certainly appreciative of the extra day off. As the sun started to go down, I showered and then went for a traditional Thai oil massage. It was incredibly relaxing and soothing, although the borderline erotic nature of it did make me chuckle at times. The only part of my body that didn't get oiled up was my crotch, but the lady came close on a few occasions. I can see how these massages get slightly out of hand, so to speak.

In the evening I saw the sides of Ko Tao that enthrall me and appall me in equal measure. I was sat in a wonderful beachside bar, lounging on bean bags, drinking cocktails, watching the ships come in at the end of the day, reading my book as people from around the world chatted away with the relaxing beats played by a DJ in the background. Unfortunately, you could also hear noise from the bar next door. This establishment was catered to the Britpackers - offering the usual deals of a free gallon of vodka with every beer, and presumably 40 per cent discounts to anyone with a tattoo. Somebody was belting out covers of Oasis songs - or at least I assume it was a person. It could well have been a strangled cat singing Don't Look Back in Anger, such was the sheer awfulness of this 'performance'. It spoilt my enjoyment of the other bar's considerable charm, and I was tempted to go next door and smash the guy's acoustic guitar over his head. But it neatly demonstrated the two sides of holidaying in Ko Tao, and indeed Thailand. One is ambient, international and relaxing. The other is puking up into the sand to the soundtrack of tired old Britpop covers.

ko tao

Ko Tao is tiny - covering an area of just 21km and with a permanent population of just over 1,000. Despite this, it manages to pack within its shores all of the typical attractions of a Thai island.

The beach, and its mountainous jungle backdrop, is jaw droppingly beautiful. Watching the boats come into shore as the sun goes down is a special experience. Behind the beach are an extensive maze of streets and walkways, which are littered with hotels, cafes, restaurants and bars. The street food sellers, barbecuing corn on the cobs and kebabs, produce amazing aromas in the warm and humid evenings.

Ko Tao attracts a mixed crowd of tourists, many of whom come here because it is inexpensive to go diving and get a certificate, but the majority are young British travellers. What this means is that there is a multitude of drinking dens offering cheap booze. Some of these bars are actually quite good, but then there are others - normally those containing a prick plucking away at an acoustic guitar - that should be raised to the ground.

The availability of dirt cheap booze has surprised me somewhat on Ko Tao. On numerous occasions I have been approached on the beach or in the street and been given leaflets offering absurd amounts of alcohol at a ludicrous price. I was taken aback yesterday to be offered a 2 for 1 deal on buckets of whisky and red bull. A single bucket contains a lot of whisky and only costs a couple of pounds - to drink two of them would be the equivalent of necking more than half a bottle of spirits. And then when you've finished those, you can tour the bars offering happy hour prices on beer and cocktails all evening. Every time someone - almost always a young British girl - thrust a leaflet into my hand I shuddered to think what it was going to offer me. Buy one get one free on an intravenous injection of vodka into the eyeballs? Fifty per cent off a white wine enema?

I'm hardly a prude when it comes to getting pissed, but even I felt uncomfortable with the amount of alcohol people were being encouraged to consume. It was around the same time as I was being offered the chance to live my holiday like Paul Gascoigne that I happened to stumble across a very worrying and poignant statistic. Did you know that 269 British tourists died in Thailand last year? Two hundred and sixty nine. To add some context, that's the equivalent of around five 7/7 terrorist attacks. If you extrapolate the statistic, around 10 Brits will have lost their lives since my holiday began. The vast majority of these deaths are caused by motorcycle accidents, but in a way they are linked to the same carefree attitudes that go with the drink promotions. You don't need any experience of riding a bike in order to hire one here - you just need to tell the guy renting it that you have some. So in effect thousands of tourists come here and exploit the complete disregard there is in Thailand for 'elf n safety' - and the locals don't care so long as you are crossing their palm with bhat.

The fact Thailand has now become the most dangerous - in terms of fatalities - for British tourists to visit tells me something is not quite right here. What to do about it, I have no idea.

ko phangan to ko tao

On Wednesday morning I got up to have my last breakfast at my hotel on Ko Phangan before checking out. As usual the food was good, the service was incredibly friendly - and everyone else in the restaurant could talk about little else other than getting smashed, riding motorbikes and getting tattoos done.

In a way my experience here has shattered some of the illusions I have held about Thailand. A part of me has always thought that I might like to live in a country like this, to wake up every morning in paradise without a care in the world. Then I listened to some of the English people at this hotel, some of whom probably first came here in 2001 and have never left, boasting about drinking magic mushroom milkshakes and having drunk so much the night before their eyes were in pain, and I had considerable doubts about whether this was really what I wanted out of life. That's the philosophical outlook - at the time I just wanted to douse them all in kerosene and light a match.

I think part of me was vaguely jealous at the bashfulness of people boasting about their drinking capacity. Whilst I've always suffered from hangovers, on this holiday they have proved so bad the day following a bit of a session has been a total disaster. Normally I can rehabilitate myself with a few pints of orange squash, a couple of nurofen, a good meal and a hair of the dog. It might take a while, but I can always get back to something resembling good health. On this holiday the hangovers have been all-day sicknesses, which makes me wonder if I have picked up some kind of bug that I haven't been able to shake off. Either way, wolfing down a full English, cups of sugary tea and getting 'back on it' hasn't been an option for me.

My boat left Ko Phangan at the sociable time of 1pm, and it took a little over an hour to get to the nearby island of Ko Tao. The weather was perfect as we made our way across the crystal clear waters of the Gulf of Thailand. On the top of the boat were groups of travellers from across the globe - all glugging back cans of cold beer, basking in the beautiful surroundings and all probably thinking this is why I came to Thailand. It was an atmosphere and a feeling I wished you could bottle and open up on Monday mornings in February.

Ko Tao is a small island that has grown in popularity over recent years. Its larger neighbours, Samui and Phangan, have long been established tourist destinations, but now Tao is becoming increasingly popular. One of its main attractions is diving, but the scenery is so amazing you could come here and do nothing and yet feel perfectly contented.

I caught a tuk tuk to my hotel in the main resort of Sairee beach. Upon arrival it turned out they had no record of my reservation, as never comes as much of a surprise in this part of the world. I hadn't paid any money - it had been arranged by e-mail, but I had not printed out a record of my exchange with them. Anyway, this ended up working in my favour as they quoted me a price of 1500 bhat (30 quid) a night when I had originally agreed to pay 2500. I quickly swapped my expression of bemused indignance to a warm smile, dumped my bags and headed for the beach.

ko phangan

On Sunday when I arrived on the island of Ko Phangan, I had unwittingly re-traced the itinerary of my first trip to Thailand back in 2004. Bangkok to Chiang Mai, Ko Samui and then Ko Phangan.

If Ko Samui has become a haven for honeymooners and wealthy westerners, resplendent with five star boutique resorts, Ko Phangan retains a laid back, backpacker vibe that doesn't appear to have moved on much ever since it first became an integral part of the tourist trail.

This was my third visit to the island, and I was looking forward to kicking back in peaceful surroundings. I had booked into a highly-regarded resort on the west coast of the island for three nights. It was very cheap, and I knew there would be no private infinity pools, but when deciding to stay here I had clearly overlooked the type of clientele it was likely to attract. Upon arrival, the British owner talked me through some things I needed to know. First of all, he assured me all the staff in the bar and the restaurant could speak English. What he actually meant to say was, 'don't worry if you want extra cheese on top of your burger, you won't have to repeat yourself five times, raise your voice and mutter about how rude it is that the locals can't understand you'. I was then shown details of the resort's rules - no luminous body paint allowed in the rooms was my personal favourite - and given a list of replacement charges I would face if I broke anything in my room. Finally, I was assured the bar would stay open as late as I wanted it to...

At breakfast the following morning I must admit to feeling very out of place. I didn't feel as if I belonged in the swanky resort in Ko Samui either, but for the first time on this trip I did start to wonder if I was getting too old for all this. It's not that my idea of what constitutes a good holiday has changed since I was a teenager, it's more my tolerance of fellow travellers that has started to wear increasingly thin. As I sat there quietly sipping an orange juice and reading my book, I had to endure the sight of three complete twats - all southern English, all a tad posh - going round the restaurant telling everyone how pissed they had got the night before. And how one of them had crashed their moped yesterday. I don't mind or care what they got up to, it was their insistence on thinking everyone else was interested that annoyed me. Trouble is, it would appear some of the other guests actually were. After they had sat down in the far corner, a girl sat on a table nearby turned to her friend and, without a hint of irony, said 'those guys are really cool'. I despair...

In the afternoon, Seb and his girlfriend Amy stopped by at the hotel for a couple of drinks as they were passing through on a bike trip around the island. Although some of the people staying at the hotel were not my cup of tea, it was the perfect location for a cold beer. The sand on the beach was gloriously white, the sea completely calm and the views of Ko Samui across the water were amazing.

After Seb and Amy left I was planning to get some sleep before heading out to the nearby Half Moon Party later on. However, Norwich's vital match against Derby was now kicking off, and so instead I spent the next 90 minutes refreshing the scores on my phone. Deep into injury time and resigned to a draw, I came out of the shower and saw that we had scored to win 3-2. After jumping around for a while around my beach hut, I was now in the mood for a party and headed out into the evening feeling very happy indeed.

Unlike the Full Moon Party, the half moon event doesn't take place on the beach. Instead it is held deep into the Ko Phangan jungle, and so everyone needs transport to get there. The minibus taking people from my hotel to the event was full, and so I had a choice. I could wait half an hour for them to go there and come back, or I could get in the boot. Feeling quite lubricated from an evening drinking vodka and cokes while trying to keep up with events at Carrow Road, I climbed into the boot and wondered what my mother would think if this turned out to be my final act...

We got to the party, and from then on everything is just a blur. The setting was pretty amazing - a bit like the Lost Vagueness section at Glastonbury only a lot warmer and with more luminous paint. I was at the party for a good six hours, but I can't remember much more than drinking the ubiquitous buckets of whisky and mixers. Perhaps that's why...

At around 6am I caught a ride back to my hotel on the back of a motorbike, which I suppose was marginally safer than the way I chose to arrive. After a brief period watching the sun come up over the beach, I crashed out exhausted in my hut.

ko samui

Friday and Saturday on Samui passed in a sun drenched, booze addled haze. Norwich's 5-1 win at Ipswich on Thursday night provided the ultimate backdrop.

If I couldn't actually be at the game, I struggle to think of anywhere else I would rather be than Chaweng Beach to celebrate such a result. I will never forget the feeling when I turned on my phone on Friday morning and saw that incredible scoreline. 5-1. Having updated my Facebook status to say I was going to pour myself a G&T and dive naked into the infinity pool, it would have been disingenuous not to have actually done so. Such behaviour is that much easier when you have a private infinity pool outside your room...

One of the most striking things about my third visit to Samui is how it felt no different to the previous two. By that I mean the severe flooding that engulfed the island last month appeared to have done no last damaging. I noticed the affects on certain parts of the beach, but apart from that you would be forgiven for thinking nothing had happened. Incredible given that taxi drivers told me the waters had been several feet high.

Walking around Chaweng, flashbacks from my visits in 2004 and 2008 would occasionally hot me. Like when I walked past a seedy strip joint with English people queuing to get in, and whilst rolling my eyes realised I had actually been in there myself many years ago. Not my idea, I hasten to add, it was all in the name of irony.

Samui reminded me of Ibiza in many respects. Stunningly beautiful but with a side to it that can repel some people. There are many dodgy bars here - not least those with Thai cover bands banging out 80s rock anthems - but also some of the best places to have a drink I've come across.

I'll be back to fly to Bangkok in just over a week - and then probably again sometime soon...

5-1

'nuff said