Me and the Missus are having breakfast. It is our first morning at a plush spa resort in Krabbi and I have come up with a cunning plan.
This involves me taking redundancy at work, which as a journalist will probably come round at some point, then me and the Missus spending a year in an Asian country; meaning I can train in a martial art at source, and she can spend a year working as an apprentice potter at source. We're also both writers so we'd write about the experience and about each other, too.
It's a plan I am very excited about and I am waxing lyrical.
'It would be fab. We'd have to spend six months beforehand learning another language, we'd have to rent the house out but that would pay for itself, and we'd also have to put a chunk of cash in to make it work. But it would be a great adventure,' I enthuse. 'If we went to Korea, I could train in hapkido at source, while you could get a gig as an apprentice potter. It would take some organising but it would be fabulous. It would be an adventure. And it would be our adventure. Just me and you. How cool would that be?'
The missus is silent. I assume she is pondering the plan. Then she speaks.
'Somebody's got waffles for breakfast.'
I could feel offended that I am being ignored. Until I realise I have the opening sentence of the book version of our travels...
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