Have just returned from a weekend in Ko Samet, my first visit to the island. In appearance it didn't quite live up to my expectations. It has fine white beaches but hardly any palm trees, which I consider de rigueur for a paradise island. I was told they were all cut down when resorts started to be developed there. Other trees are plentiful, but, apart from a few flame trees, they are not particularly striking, more of a background fuzz. I stayed at the Malibu Resort in the horseshoe bay of Ao Wong Duan, because that's where the English friend I accompanied always stays. It's considered relatively upmarket, with its white-washed bungalows in a pretty garden setting, but I thought my room rather tatty and very much overpriced at 1700B a night (low season). The breakfast was nothing special either.

We spent our first full day doing typical lazy beachy things. We both had Thai companions with us. My friend, who was celebrating his 48th birthday, has a boyfriend of two years' standing who is clearly in love with him (yes, it is possible). My own companion was a handsome barboy who gives me good service and seems to like me, without ever claiming to love me, and that suits me just dandy. Most of the other occupants of the beach at this time of year were Thais along for the weekend. I liked the relaxed, fun atmosphere that this made for.

On the Sunday we went for a speedboat trip round the island. We stopped for some snorkelling, then proceeded to a fish farm, where the fun really began. Quite why I did it I'll never know, but on ascending the few wooden steps from the boat I briefly surveyed the grid of net-covered holding tanks separated by two-planks-wide paths and then stepped directly onto what I thought was a solid surface but which a moment's study would have shown to be merely a black canvas strip next to the netting over the nearest tank. I distinctly recall my English friend raising his voice in alarm to say,'No, don't do that!' Ah, but I'd already done it, you see, and the result was predictable: I went straight through the canvas into the tank with accompanying ripping and sploshing sounds. My, was I surprised! There was a great flurry of activity to get me out again, which was duly achieved in short order. I assured everyone I was all right, more concerned about the poor camera hanging round my neck. Miraculously, only the linen case had got wet and the camera itself seemed unscathed. We all peered into the tank to see what fate I had been saved from: just some pink and orange fish about a foot long which looked far too well brought up and polite to take so much as a nibble at a farang's legs. BUT in adjoining tanks there were turtles and, I kid you not, a small shark. For some reason it occurred to me that I really must sort out some health insurance.

After the fish farm we went to a restaurant situated out at sea for a snack. The ribbing from my English friend had got into full swing by now. Comments like, 'When you go fishing you're meant to take some bait, you know, not use yourself'. Or, 'Why didn't you tell me you were filming an episode of Mr Bean - you were, weren't you?' After one pause for verbal re-arming he said, 'If you'd fallen in I could have understood it. It would have been daft but would at least have been explicable in terms of the behaviour of a sane person. But to step in...' His eyes widened with merriment and his mouth hung open. 'Aw, c'mon,' I said, 'there are worse things to be than a complete prat, you know.' 'Like what?' he said. 'Well, like... a murderer, for instance.' He shook his head sadly in denial of my proposition. 'Well, all right then... a mass murderer,' I said. This time he thought about it and then wiggled his downward-turned horizontal palm to indicate that maybe, just maybe, I was right. I could see from the wicked, meditative glint in his eye that all this was merely the beginning, the first ripples of an ever-expanding circle of ridicule. Other people, lots of other people, were going to hear about this. Soon I'll be approached by total strangers in the street who'll point and say, 'Hey, aren't you the prat who stepped into the fish tank...' I resigned myself to my fate with quiet dignity. Meanwhile, interestingly enough, our two Thai companions were remaining aloof from all the badinage. I really don't think it is in the Thai nature to use personal misfortune as an excuse for ritual humiliation. I like Thai people.

On the Sunday evening there was a sit-down meal at one long table for all the Thai workers at the Malibu Resort, about 35 in all. My English friend organises this at his own expense every year, a wonderful gesture I think, which wouldn't even occur to most of us. In explanation he had told me about their working conditions: up to 15 hours a day for 100B, meals not included, one day off a month if they were lucky. I had already seen their living accommodation: a group of primitive shacks on waste ground behind the bungalows. So it was a pleasure to watch them all tucking into the great plates of food and sampling the array of drinks. It had been obvious to me all weekend how these people hold my friend in real affection (I've lived long enough to be able to distinguish the genuine article); now he was beaming at all of them with the conviviality of one of Dickens' larger-than-life characters. At one point his boyfriend, sitting next to him at the head of the table, announced that he was 'too happy to eat', a felicitous expression which had my English friend and I casting about for other applications ('I'm too happy to settle my bill...') After the meal a Thai with a microphone called forward each worker in turn to be presented with an envelope containing 500B and a hug from my English friend. A photographer would snap the happy scene. When it was finally over, I congratulated my friend on his largesse and on having carried it all off so well. He grimaced and said, 'I hate every moment. I find it exquisitely embarrassing. But it's how they like things to be done out here.' Lilting Isaan music had been playing throughout the meal and now people started wandering onto the floor to dance (and yes, Smiles, they got me to join in!) We had the traditional Thai cock-up when the music kept stopping, but no one seemed to care. A few people were getting hammered on the booze, but it just seemed to bring out high spirits, not aggression. When I left at about eleven, people were drifting away but a hard core continued apparently till two or three in the morning. I muttered a few platitudes of thanks to my English friend in parting, then planted a kiss on his cheek as the best way I could think of expressing my feelings towards him.

The Monday morning was overcast and drizzly with some thunder rolling about. After more hugs and farewells from staff members, mainly directed at my friend, we all boarded the speedboat heading back to Ban Phe on the mainland. As we skimmed over the water, my friend nodded to one side and said innocently, 'There's another fish farm over there if you'd like us to make a quick detour...' Bastard!

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