New York, New York!

Never before have I felt so familiar with a city that I've not yet set eyes upon. New York has existed in my conscious for so long that despite this being my first trip, I felt instantly at home in my surroundings. When I felt the ground rumble beneath me, I already knew it was the Metro. When I saw the steam rising from the sidewalks, I knew it was the drains. I wasn't even surprised to see the spiral staircases wrapped around each and every building; I already knew what they were for. All of my questions had been answered before I'd even voiced them. 

The only slight oddity was not seeing the familiar faces I'm so used to seeing roam these streets on my television screen; Brad Pitt, Courtney Cox, and Blake Lively were nowhere to be seen but there was at least one friendly face there to welcome us ; the lovely Hannah who had kindly offered to put us up during our stay. Hannah's little studio flat oozes New York City style with its vintage décor and exposed brick wall. Though it consists of just one room and a bathroom, it was perfect for the four of us to huddle in together and play SATC for a long weekend.

It's also situated directly opposite Chelsea Market so it made sense for that to be our first stop. This urban, underground court reminded me a lot of Brixton village with slightly less edge and a little more sparkle. We weaved in and out of the shops and stalls, picking up snacks, taking snaps and making note of the happy hours at each and every wine bar. Then, as if by a gravitational force, we found ourselves being pulled towards the flashing lights at the centre of Times Square. It’s absolutely mental; like Piccadilly Circus on ecstasy and we placed ourselves in the very centre in complete awe. The clock chimed eight but I have no idea how much time had passed before that point. We were completely lost in the madness.

After a brief visit to the gigantic Forever 21 in the square, we headed in the direction of the gigantic Christmas tree outside the gigantic Rockerfeller buiding for the turning on of the gigantic Christmas lights (all nine-thousand-and-ninety-something miles worth, ahem Sophie!) Unfortunately, we were also faced with gigantic crowds and never actually made it to the event, despite Bianca's best efforts at playing the 'I'm lost and British and speak like the Queen' card with the policemen guarding the entrance.

We turned away defeated, not all that fussed until the next morning when we heard whispers of Michael Buble performing alongside Sting and other A-list stars at the opening. We should've known that New York would do nothing by halves and certainly should’ve remembered that fact just a few hours later when we foolishly ordered two stacks of pancakes and a Full American breakfast between us at Bubby's. I'm not sure which is more of a wonder; the fact that we finished every scrap or that we managed to walk out afterwards and continue our day.

We didn't stop walking in fact; after an extremely brief encounter with the Metro which didn't see us even getting to the other side of the turnstile, we decided to explore the city by foot as much as possible.

Our first leg was along the High Line, the old railway which follows the riverfront and has since been transformed into a beautiful boardwalk. I imagine it to be even prettier in the summer months when the flowers are in bloom, breaking up the city concrete with colour. 

Once we'd reached the end, we took a turn towards the centre estimating that it should take us about half an hour to reach the very heart. In reality, it took us almost two but we can blame Zara for that. And Tiffany and Macy, and all the other old friends we just kept stopping to greet. 

It was exhausting work and by the time we made it to Grand Central station, we were ready to crash despite it being just midday. Cue our first prosecco pick-me-up of the day! One glass turned into two bottles which we polished off whilst people-watching from a balcony under the twinkling stars of that giant dome. We must've seen more than a hundred thousand people storm past beneath us; everyone in a hurry, everyone with somewhere to be. It was rather refreshing for once, to be so far removed from it all; to be the ones with no agenda. We could sit here all day if we liked and believe me, it was tempting! 

Nevertheless, we eventually tore ourselves away and rejoined the rat race below. I'd been warned previously about the chaos of New York and the skyscraper-induced claustrophobia which so many people experience but somehow I found it the contrary. Though the crowds of people easily compete with those in London, the excessively wide streets and overwhelmingly large buildings gave me a sense of infinite space which could never be filled. They say that you stop being a tourist in New York when you can walk down the road without looking up but I could live there forever and still find my gaze drawn towards the tallest spires. It's difficult to feel suffocated when you're continually reminded of the endlessness of the skies above you. 

On that note, I was pleased that our next stop was one of the tallest buildings of all - the Rockerfeller. The sun had set when we reached the 70th floor and the city in darkness was quite something; hardly dark at all in fact, but alive with thousands upon thousands of sparkling lights in every direction for as far as our eyes could see. We quickly found our bearings and identified the Empire State; a building which was once so famous for being enormous but now sticks out little more than the hundreds of other sky high towers surrounding us. At the very top, we were completely exposed and the sheer distance between ourselves and the ground suddenly felt very real. As did the hammering wind edging us forwards like a less than gentle nudge from a passive aggressive friend. What truly amazed me was the size of the cars on the road - even those typical American SUVs seemed no bigger than my fingernail. It occurred to me that this was the only time I could recall in the last few days thinking that something was small. 

As the lift descended, I felt on a literal comedown. Perhaps it was all the walking, or perhaps it was the overwhelming events of the day but after a couple more proseccos (which in hindsight could also have been a factor) we gave into exhaustion and called it a night. 

The next morning was a whole other story. I woke up feeling completely refreshed and so rather than focusing my energy on another gigantic stack of pancakes, I decided to go for a run along the Hudson. Somehow, I managed to convince the girls to join me and we were soon out in the crisp December air stretching and pulling Usain Bolt poses on the pier. The river, just like the roads, is extremely wide and shockingly blue. It struck me as sad that this surprised me, having become so accustomed to the dull grey shade of the Thames. The route was so beautiful that we'd smashed through 8 kilometres without even realising. 

Following a quick shower and green goddess smoothies, we then returned to walking pace and ambled back towards the centre again, this time to Ground Zero. Having never seen the Twin Towers whilst they were standing, I was unsure what to expect from this memorial site but I soon realised that it made little difference to the effect it had on me. The contrast between the vast open space and the cluttered life surrounding it is devastating. Two gaping holes now lie where the towers once stood, with water trickling down the sides and into the depths beyond view. It's a peaceful feature but one that, at least in my interpretation, signifies a continuous sadness. Beneath the exuberant positivity of New York, the water will still always flow, like the city's endless tears for those who were taken from it. 

Before we left, we took a moment to note some of the names inscribed into the border of the fountains and admired the white roses which had been laid upon those who would have been celebrating a birthday on this day. We left the site wondering who these people were and what could have been, our hearts breaking for each and every one. Though they’re one in three thousand killed that day, each one has a story and they deserve to be remembered as more than just a statistic. The memorial stands as a strong depiction of this. 

Moving on, we felt it appropriate for the Statue of Liberty to be our next stop. Rather than paying for a tour, we hopped onto the free commuter ferry to Statton Island and passed by the lady herself along the way. Though we didn't get too up close and personal, her beauty was evident from afar and the iconic representation of an incredible city.

Upon our return to the mainland, we were suddenly struck with hunger and though still miles from Brooklyn, had our hearts set on a pizza from Grimaldi's just over the bridge. It was a long while before we made it (the bridge alone is a twenty minute walk!) but the size of the pizza served once we sat down was more than enough to compensate. 

Unbeknownst to us, the day was disappearing to night outside. Whilst we'd been busy inhaling pizza, the sky had darkened to a midnight blue and as we crossed back over the bridge into Manhattan, we just caught the final glimpse of the sun on the horizon turning the skyline pink. It was absolutely stunning. 

Back at the flat, we met Hannah and popped open the champagne to mark the start of pre-drinks. Tonight, we were going out out! 

Once sufficiently tipsy, we walked down a couple of blocks to Catch where we were met by Hannah's friends and another few bottles of prosecco. It was a fairly reserved start to the evening but the guys explained that a lot of the clubs here are restaurants and hotels and that they 'pop off' later on. That, they did. 

How we got there is a little hazy but we ended up at the Jane Hotel where there were more people dancing on tables and sofas than on the dance floor itself and the music resembled an old school garage/rnb/hip-hop compilation. Basically as soon as the diners dispersed and the tequilas made a timely appearance, it all took a turn for the better, or worse judging by my hangover the next morning. 

Worse still, we woke up twenty minutes before our brunch booking at Paradou which just so happened to be unlimited mimosas. Oh god. 

The only option was to power on through it and by midday my hangover had been replaced by a warm and fuzzy state of merry which was much better for my head but less so for the shopping which followed. Goodness knows what I bought (seemingly everything) but it was enjoyable nonetheless. 

For the remainder of the afternoon, we wandered through the city, making frequent coffee stops to simultaneously sober up and warm up as the prosecco blankets abandoned us and the winter chill hit. It felt very much like any ordinary Saturday afternoon and I realised how quickly we'd adjusted to life here - we were already referring to Hannah's place as 'home.' With my best friends in tow, I truly believe I could live anywhere but New York definitely sits at the upper end of the list. 

There was still one last thing we needed to tick off before leaving so on Sunday morning we headed out early in the direction of Central Park. We'd hoped to cover it all but had once again underestimated the size of all things American. We managed about half, passing the reservoir, lakes and Alice and Wonderland memorial which all contribute to its wonderful character. 

Before we knew it though, we were flagging our final yellow cab for the airport and reminiscing on our favourite parts of the trip. We covered so much in our short stay and yet it still feels as though there's so much more to see. In a city like New York, there will always be more and we're certainly not done with it just yet.

A Weekend in Geneva

I'd just about had enough time to unpack and re-pack (and fight off dengue fever) and I was back on a plane again – this time to Geneva!

We were met at the airport by my Auntie Liz who whisked me, my mum and my best friend Hana back to her beautiful home situated in a rural area just over the French border. The house is instantly impressive both in terms of size and setting but the interior is even better; I felt as though we'd arrived onto the set of an Ideal Home Magazine shoot!

In fact, I was so distracted by the modern feature walls and striking artwork which decorate the space so beautifully that I almost didn't notice the view beyond. Sliding open the glass doors, Liz led us out to a glistening swimming pool overlooking the snowy Alps. Even in the fading sunlight, we could just about make out the peak of the Mont Blanc. I was quite sure this was going to be an awesome few days.

The evening ran away with us as we caught up over wine and nibbles and before we knew it, it was time for bed. The following morning, we woke late and had a leisurely breakfast by the poolside whilst making a plan for the day. Midway through, we were joined by a welcome surprise - my cousin, Sian! 

Sian lives and works in Africa and my travels are yet to take me to that part of the world so we're rarely in the same continent, let alone country. I felt very lucky to have her with us for the weekend and having listened to her incredible tales of Chad and Sierra Leone, I don't imagine it will be long until I do spend some time that way.

Though we could easily have spent the whole day by the pool, we were keen to make the most of our short few days so got ourselves sorted and headed out to Annecy. My Aunt told me that I'd been before as a child but my memory was hazy and I certainly didn't remember it being quite so stunning. The lake is almost impossibly blue with fountains  at the centre which cast rainbows in the ripples.

All five of us wanted a closer look so we hired a pedalo and made our way into the midst of it all. The youngsters pedalled whilst our mums took pics (not a fair deal) with all of us pointing at the marvels passed along the way. In particular, I loved the turreted castles high up on the hills which struck me as quintessentially French and really rather beautiful.

The Frenchniess continued into the afternoon as we settled on a Creperie for lunch, indulging in a mixture of savoury and sweet, from entree through to dessert; at least some of us had earned it after our work-out on the lake! Soon after we headed back, fighting the temptation to enter every Swiss chocolate shop in our passing and instead settling for pink champagne on the terrace at home. 

Over dinner the bubbles continued, unveiling more and more hilarious family stories. My favourites, however, were those from before my time when my mum and Liz toured the States together and got up to all kinds of mischief. It reminded me a lot of mine and Hana's own tales except that ours are arguably a lot more tame!

On our final morning, Liz took us along to a typical French market which we fell in love with instantly. Wandering between the stalls, we soon found that our sense of smell was far more reliable than our GCSE French skills in leading us to the best vendors handing out small portions of cheese, fruit and freshly baked bread. Unsurprisingly, the tasters did the trick and we found ourselves leaving with an armful of baguettes amongst macaroons and all sorts else.

This all made for an epic lunch spread back home and there was a genuine concern that if we stayed still for too long afterwards we'd fall into a food coma and miss the flight home. Instead we swiftly (but sadly!) packed our bags and headed out to Geneva for one final stop in town before the airport called. 

It was a whirlwind of a visit but so worth it. There's nothing better than escaping the city for a weekend and immersing yourself in the beautiful European countryside – with a flight time of little more than an hour, it really is at our fingertips!

The Dubai High Life

Time to destination: 6 minutes, and yet staring out of the window I could see nothing but desert; endless stretches of sand in every direction. It's not until we're seconds from landing that we appear to cross a line of civilisation and we're suddenly immersed in a city.  

It was 4am UK time when we landed in Dubai so despite being smacked in the face with thirty degree sunshine the moment we stepped off the plane, our first port of call was bed. Luckily our friend Jess picked us up from the airport and whisked us straight to her beautiful apartment in Business Bay where we slept for five hours and woke up feeling considerably more human.

However, even as we came around from our dreamy, delirious state, something about Dubai still didn’t feel quite real. The grass was too green, the streets too spotless, the cars too fast and the sky high buildings unnaturally tall. At eighteen floors up, we weren’t even averaging mid-level! I didn’t instantly fall in love with the place but I was certainly intrigued and very much looking forward to the next few days with the girls.

After catching a couple of hours of sunshine by the pool, we got ourselves ready and jumped in a taxi to Blue Marlin Beach Club. The club was so busy and the queue so big that we couldn’t even get close to the entrance in the car. As we climbed out and started walking, I was seriously doubting our chances of getting in at all but Jess promised us that it wouldn’t be a problem. True to her word, she marched past the crowds and we were ushered straight in. It turns out that being blonde, British and working in a popular nightclub makes you second only to the Sheikhs in Dubai. 

Jess and her entourage are treated like royalty wherever they go and we were more than happy to join them for the weekend.Our table at Blue Marlin was buried under ice buckets filled with all kinds of drinks and a gigantic 3L bottle of Belvedere which was so heavy, it could only be served by hoisting it over our waiter’s shoulder. It was complete madness, but the real madness was down below on the dancefloor so once we’d each had a few drinks, we ditched VIP and went and joined the masses. The club’s mostly outside so there’s a real summer vibe and we danced the hours away until our feet hurt too much to go on.

Our return taxi was an interesting one; it seemed our driver was struggling to find Dubai let alone our apartment, simply claiming ‘I’m not from around here’ (as if we were...) I found it a little baffling that a city which has successfully installed penguins into a desert climate and the world’s biggest structures into a 4,000 square kilometre space, has not yet installed satnavs into their taxis. Anyway, ater coming close to being abandoned on the freeway we eventually made it home.
The following morning, we woke up surprisingly chirpy and went straight to Eden Beach Club for brunch. It’s a beautiful setting and the sun was out in full force so when we weren’t lounging on the beds, picking at sushi or sipping on cocktails, we pretty much spent all day in the pool. Eden is owned by the same company as the club that Jess works at so once again we were served all day without spending a penny, something I found myself quickly getting used to.

That evening Jess and Susan had to work but let us tag along. Crystal is one of Dubai’s best nights on a Saturday and this was no exception. We had a table bang in the centre of the dancefloor with a perfect view of the DJ booth which just so happened to be occupied by Craig David! All jokes aside his set was awesome; old school RnB and Hip Hop with every song sparking a memory from our own school days and our first tastes of the clubbing scene. We left when the lights came on.

Our own lights, however, didn’t come back on for a very long time. It was 3pm before we left the house on Sunday and we completely missed our booking at Cove Beach but keen not to waste the day entirely, we headed to the Madinat Souks to wander around the market. It was probably the closest we came to culture all weekend but even so, it still didn’t feel particularly genuine. Though the shops sell traditional Arabic lamps and trinkets, it’s all very geared towards tourism and the super-air conditioned mall sucks out any air of authenticity.

Realising we’d not eaten for 24 hours, we grabbed a late lunch by the man-made canal overlooking the iconic Burj Al Arab. On our way home, we insisted we stop at the mall to see the legendary fountains dancing on the hour. I’d been told about them beforehand but nevertheless, I was taken aback by how awesome they were. The first performance was to an Arabic tune which was completely mesmerising and the second, Michael Jackson’s Thriller. Each was initiated with hundreds of tiny lights twinkling beneath the surface of the water and minutes later the jets were set off, each one a dancer in its own right demanding the attention of the surrounding crowds. The standard of the choreography was quite astounding and I wished we could’ve stayed to see more.
Tearing ourselves away, we raced home to get ready for dinner; a thirty course meal at Em Sheriff, once again completely free of charge. I genuinely thought there must have been a mistranslation but the food just did not stop. As well as a whole lot of wine, we were served tasters, cold appetisers, hot appetisers, starters, grills, mains, meats, desserts – in total, thirty dishes! 

Perhaps most people select just a handful of dishes and leave the rest but they all looked so exotic and interesting that we had to try at least a mouthful of each. We had everything from pepper and pomegranate hummus, to spicy chicken liver, to shoelace pastry filled with syrup, nuts and cheese. I wish I had a copy of the menu, though I doubt my chances at recreating any of it. 

Three hours later and two party members down, we rolled out the restaurant and headed to a club. However, we were still so full when we arrived that we found it virtually impossible to dance. Fortunately, The Act is famous for its on-stage performances so I could just sit and sip (very slowly) on drinks, occasionally swaying in time to the music. A few hours later, I called it a day and waddled home. 

Our final day crept up on us and conscious that we still hadn’t made it to Cove Beach, we did our best to ignore our hangovers and food comas and woke up early. For the first time in four days, I had to get my purse out as this beach club is brand new and hasn’t yet established relationships with Jess’s company. One glance at the price lists and I suddenly realised why everyone thinks Dubai is so expensive – when it’s not free, it’s extortionate! Nevertheless, we were more than happy to fork out this once and wanted to treat Jess as a thank you for sorting us out all weekend.

Another first was finding something truly authentic – the sea! Admittedly it was so perfectly clear that it seemed too good to be true but this sparkling water couldn’t possibly be man-made. It was untouched and exceptionally beautiful.

When we’d had enough sun, we called the group we’d been out with the previous night and met them at the harbour for an afternoon yacht party. Sprawled out on the deck, we sailed through the Persian Gulf, docking an hour or so later in a nearby bay. We’d barely poured our first round of drinks when a guy appeared on a jetski and offered everyone a free ride. I never worked out whether anyone actually knew him but he later abandoned his jetski, initiated a dance-off and proposed to half the girls on board.

Watching the sunset from the boat was pretty epic and even in our vodka-induced state, I could still appreciate the wonder of our setting. The sky high giants which lined the coast glittered in the darkness casting light onto the rippling water. Nobody wanted to leave but a complementary dinner at Cavalli was calling and we had to head back.

The combination of delicious steak, red wine and pink-lit chandeliers did well to distract us from the sadness of this being our last supper. I’d been determined not to over-eat this time but the food was so great that I was soon regretting my body-con dress choice. 

We did, however, all make it to the club this time which was conveniently right next door to Cavalli. Cirque le Soir is very similar to its sister club in London and equally as eccentric. Candyfloss and popcorn were a necessity upon entry and our table backed onto a small stage which was occupied by all sorts of fire-eaters, contortionists and midgets throughout the evening. As we continued to drink, it only got weirder and my last memory is of Yas drawing out a hopscotch through the dancefloor.

I absolutely loved every minute in Dubai but the more time I spent there, the more I realised I needed to get out. It would be all too easy to be drawn in by the lavish lifestyle but after four days of worrying of nothing but which Instagram filter to use, I started to yearn for more of a purpose.

The city is fabulous but it has no history, no story and no real identity. To me, it feels as though a spoilt child has travelled the world, plucked their favourite parts from each country and slung them into one place to create Dubai; white sand from the Caribbean, ski slopes from Switzerland, skyscrapers from New York, hotels from Vegas, nightclubs from Ibiza, and the list goes on. Whilst in some ways this makes it the best place on earth, the lack of synergy or sense of belonging leaves for me, in the long-term, a little to be desired.

Short but Sweeeet Spanish Retreat

Better late than never, I finally arrived in Spain! Whilst my original flight would have taken me straight to Girona, my second booking was to Barcelona so I had to catch a bus, train and shuttle in order to end up in the right place. Having recently navigated myself around the world, I shouldn't have been too worried about a three hour journey through Spain but it was the first time I'd ever gone it alone. I was certainly glad to see my travel buds there waiting for me at the other end. 

And not just them, but the Sydney boys too who we last saw back in Fiji! It's been a whole six months since we were altogether last, but within six minutes it was as though we'd never left. With heaps to catch up on, there was a massive backlog of stories to tell and by the time we pulled up outside the villa, my cheeks already ached.

The villa was about forty minutes outside of Girona in a little town called Tamariu which consists of just a couple of shops and restaurants along the sea front. Fortunately, we had a car so we were able to venture elsewhere but in complete honesty, I could have locked myself in the villa for three days and still been content. It was absolutely beautiful; a three storey stone house complete with turrets, a rooftop terrace, a private pool and most importantly, amazing company.

Whilst the others had popped out to collect me, Kate and Erica had stayed behind to prepare dinner and so we came home to an incredible spread of lamb, aubergine, salad and potatoes laid out on the table outside. It was all very civilised but as the boys began to start serving drinks by the bowl, I had a sneaky suspicion it wouldn't stay that way for long. It's difficult to say how much we drank but it was enough so that by the end of the evening, we couldn't detect/didn't care that Will had accidentally added milk to our vodka punch. 

The next morning, I woke up early determined to make the most of my short few days. To get my bearings, I decided to go along with the boys who were popping into town to pick up 'dos baguettes' (insert Essex accent) fresh from the bakery for breakfast. For me, this holiday was far more about the people than the place and so I'd done very little research on the area. Besides, I'd been to Spain plenty of times in the past and had never been particularly blown away.

Imagine my surprise then when I caught my first glimpse of the gorgeous Costa Brava. The early morning sunshine cast a brilliant light over the golden sand which is tucked away in a small bay and surrounded by beautiful turquoise waters. It looked more like Croatia than anywhere else I've been to in Spain and quickly changed my attitude to wanting to explore the country further. Eager to spend more of our morning at this beautiful spot, we raced back to the villa to round up the others and returned soon after.

Sadly, however, we weren't the only ones. By the time we got back, the beach was overrun with people who presumably all held the same appreciation for this amazing place. It somewhat disturbed the peace of our pretty little bay but it was nevertheless a glorious view. Whilst we girls positioned ourselves horizontally on the sand, the boys disappeared off onto the rocks with their fishing rod and squirmy bait.

From our sunbathing set up, we could just about make out their silhouettes against the sun and assumed from the lack of triumphant waving that it wasn't going awfully well. After an hour or so Hana and I went to investigate with the intention, of course, of taking the piss. However, we must have been their lucky charms because as soon as we showed up they caught their first fish! Still, it was hardly enough to make a meal for seven so we walked back up to the villa to prepare a proper lunch.

Our food had barely gone down and we were already devising various pool games and plotting against one another to throw each other in (for future reference, sun tanning oil is by far the best defence.) A combination of the sunshine, water and being surrounded by friends transformed us all back into big kids.

In the evening we gave our resident chef a break and drove into Begur, a quaint little town with old stone buildings and a beautiful square. We ended up splitting into two groups for dinner; 'the fish eaters and non' as the first were keen to try out the area's traditional paella dish. However, judging by the state of them after their meal, you could reasonably assume we'd split into 'alcoholics and non.'

Amie, Erica and Kate were hilariously drunk and giggled the whole way home which inspired the rest of us to pour a couple too. Once back at the villa, the games soon commenced, our favourite being Mafia which involved a God, a police officer, a serial killer and some rather confused civilians. It all proved a little too complicated for Amie (understandably, after her third bottle of wine) and so we eventually switched to team charades which lasted until Hana's award winning Shrek impression put us all to shame. Knowing they could never top it, the fish eating alcoholics stripped off and jumped into the pool for a midnight swim.

In the meantime the rest of us got down to discussing our plans for the next year and working out when on earth we'd all be on the same side of the world again. So far our group holidays have been rather spontaneous and the conversations were swaying towards another spur of the moment splurge. Had we had access to the internet that evening, I've no doubt that we would have ended up with seven tickets to Thailand booked on Daddy Wise's card. I'm still undecided as to whether this was unfortunate or the opposite.

Thursday morning came around far too quickly and we were all gutted that it was our final day. Hana and I were keen to buy treats to take home so the boys drove us to the local shop which had an overwhelmingly large (and amazingly cheap!) chocolate selection. Between us, we cleared out the shelves and Stuart took whatever was left to conduct a treasure hunt back at the villa later that evening!

Rather than heading straight back, the four of us took a slight detour to Calella; another beautiful town just a little way down the road. It was way past cocktail o'clock by this point so we stopped off for a caipirinha and re-lived our Brazil days whilst reminiscing about Fiji. I genuinely could have stayed there all day but when Hana fell off her chair and attracted the attention of the entire bar, we decided it was probably time to leave. Making one final pitstop at the lighthouse on top of the hill, we finally drove back to join the others.

We found the girls exactly where we'd left them, though perhaps shifted ever so slightly to follow the last few rays of sunshine. The scene was one of peace and content but it was very short lived; the sugary cocktails had switched us into mischief mode and we made it our mission to get everyone in the pool just one last time. The boys proved the hardest to wrestle and so we settled for dressing up in their clothes and jumping in ourselves instead. Unfortunately they then adopted the same tactic and not only got our airport clothes soaking wet, but showed us up massively by working our outfits better than us. No boys should look that comfortable in a bra and leggings.

Our last evening consisted of a family outing to the nearby crazy golf course. Unsurprisingly, nobody had significantly up-skilled since Fiji though there were a couple of holes in ones on a few questionable courses. With a smug Stuart in tow (shock) we returned to the house for our final supper. It was our full intention to have an early night as we needed to be up at a ridiculous hour to head to the airport but we were far too distracted with the excitement of Mafia and running around the garden in the dark hunting for Milka.

By the time we actually climbed into bed, we set our alarms for just two hours later. As a result, the flight home was kind of a blur but I was pretty pleased because the goodbyes seemed far less real. I've no idea when we'll all be together again but I do know that it will be worth the wait and in the meantime, I can give my cheeks a well deserved rest.