Whew! Scorchio! For the second time since we’ve been here we made it to breakfast. I had bacon and eggs and Sims had some girly stuff that oozed the elusive promise of good health, firm skin and everlasting youth.

After breakfast it was down to the beach; where we lay in the shadows under the menacing threat that is the coconut tree. I went to paddle with the fishies again. It’s awesome! Sims was gripped by the sixth book she has read since she’s been on the island. Thankfully she wasn’t hit on the head by a falling coconut.

After a quick lunch with deaf Tony and his wife we headed back to the beach. Sims was quick to point out the challenging aesthetic of the girl in the white g-string… and I had to agree. It’s the same for the chaps… Unless you have a Linford Christe the Speedo swimming costume is unflattering at best, and hugely amusing at worst. If you are a woman with an arse the size of Ayer’s Rock with more dimpled craters than the surface of the moon do not wear a thong. It offends normal sensibilities.

Late in the afternoon, after a splodge in the pool, we met up with the lucky bastard from Bournemouth again and went for a hoolie on the big bouncy aquatic armchair thingy that we’d been eyeing up all week… For ten minutes or so he dragged us around on the back of a jet-ski, bouncing across his wake, and we just sat there, hanging on for dear life and giggling our tits off like a couple of kids.

And just as soon as you could say “What’s the time?” we were back in the bar with our magic wristbands…

As we contentedly drank our cold beer and wine we watched the sun set on day 12 behind a cloud. Sadly, tomorrow is our last day in Paradise.