It was Friday when I took the call asking me if I could head to a small island in the Gulf of Thailand to carry out a little writing project. I actually just couldn’t be bothered heading east, had too much on back in the UK and so wasn’t really up for a jaunt to the other side of the world. Those that don’t/haven’t travelled look at some of the places I have visited and tell me how lucky I am, how amazing life must be. And I accept that, over the years I have done some amazing things and created lifelong memories. In many ways I have been insanely lucky, fortunate and am always grateful.
However, travelling is exhausting, it really is. Particularly short term. This trip would have no time for jet lag, just get on with it, get it done, and get back home. So, this is how it all happened.
Firstly I needed to head to Madrid to pick some things up…
Then it was back to London…
Followed by a hefty 13hr 40min flight to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia…
The first hotel…
A flight to Singapore…
A flight to Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam…
A flight to Phu Quoc…
It took 6 flights, 5 countries, 7,000 miles and 48 hours. Needless to say, I was exhausted.
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