Well, I’m writing this from the Boxtel at Bangkok airport, where I currently find myself a) slightly hungover (clearly those cocktails packed more of a punch than I realised…) and b) with a few hours to kill between flying in from Koh Samui and back out again to London later this evening. Plenty of time on my hands, then, to reflect on the trip as a whole.

Fair to say a bit of a “mixed bag”, on this occasion – and not my most riveting travelogue, perhaps (though, as ever, I’ve still enjoyed writing it…). The weather hasn’t been as kind as I might have liked, and I’d have obviously preferred a more “laidback” vibe at the Sanctimony. But still, it’s Thailand – you’d have to put in some serious effort not to enjoy yourself here. Even with the iffy weather, the food’s still excellent, the sights are genuinely interesting (especially the weird ones), the massages cheap and satisfyingly brutal, and the people unfailingly lovely. Honestly, what’s not to like?

Yoga, however… I’ve given it more than a fair shot – retreats abroad, the odd draughty village-hall class, even a spot of private tuition thrown in for good measure. And yet, here I am, a round peg still stubbornly trying to force itself into a very square hole – and still failing spectacularly to make it stick.

I desperately want to be that flexible, serene, beatific yoga poster girl with ironing-board abs – I really do. That said, between my lack of flexibility, questionable coordination and the tendency of my brain to short-circuit the moment the teacher reels off more than one instruction at once, it may be time to accept that this simply isn’t my spiritual or physical path. I don’t know the yoga-sceptic cartoonist below, but something tells me we’d get on a storm in real life… 😉

Swimming, on the other hand, has been my one true love for nearly thirty years – my enduring form of moving meditation, the only exercise my body instinctively understands, and which leaves me mentally and physically blissed out in a way no downward dog ever has. Perhaps that’s the universe hinting I should stick with what works, rather than persisting in flogging the dead horse of a zen-goddess persona who clearly does not exist.

Still – future yogi master or not (and I’m coming down firmly on the side of “not” here) – these sorts of places do undeniably suit me. For someone ill at ease with vast expanses of unstructured nothingness, I find the gentle routine here oddly calming. Knowing there’s always another small activity just around the corner – whether that’s a class, meal, or even time for chai – somehow allows me to settle into my own form of “managed relaxation”, without getting too twitchy in the process. I’d do a similar retreat again, for sure – only next time definitely somewhere with an actual bar!

As for Koh Samui, the sun finally decided to come out in all its glory the moment I left for the airport, FFS. Clearly the universe is trying to teach me a lesson about non-attachment here – either that or it’s just trolling me outright.

So, that’s officially it for now. Catch you on the other side – likely colder, but let’s be honest, not noticeably greyer! Till next time – assuming the Great Holiday Curse of 2025 finally lifts, that is…