Glastonbury review: There goes My Hero

ELTON JOHN brought down the curtain on a sun-baked Glastonbury Festival with his last ever concert in the United Kingdom as the Sunday night headliner on Pyramid Stage. 

The legendary 76-year-old self-styled Rocketman launched his set with Pinball Wizard. 

But, pretty soon, he was onto the tear-jerkers Goodbye Yellow Brick Road and I Guess That's Why They Call it the Blues, my own personal favourite - before further emotional performances of Someone Saved My Life Tonight, Your Song, and Candle in the Wind. 

Then the party got started as Tiny Dancer, Don't Go Breaking My Heart, Crocodile Rock, Saturday Night's Alright for Fighting and I'm Still Standing came in quick succession. 

Guests included Brandon Flowers of The Killers for Tiny Dancer - but absolutely no one would have guessed his other invitees:

▪️ the London Community Gospel Choir for Are You Ready For Love and Sad Songs (Say So Much)

▪️ TikTok star Stephen Sanchez for Until I Found You

▪️ Japanese singer Rina Sawayama for Don't Go Breaking My Heart 

Elton finished his set by dedicating Don't Let The Sun Go Down on Me to his late fellow performer George Michael before leaving the stage after Rocket Man. Strangely, though, there was no encore. 

Earlier, the Pyramid stage opened on Saturday and Sunday with impressive stuff from Rick Astley and the Dixie Chicks respectively. 

Entertaining and self-effacing Astley got the mood right by mixing up his set somewhat with covers of Harry Styles's As It Was and, rather unexpectedly, Highway To Hell by AC/DC. 

Astley finished, of course, with a sing-a-long of Never Gonna Let You Down with the whole of the crowd. 

Elsewhere, the Other Stage also presented strong performances from the likes of The Hives and Lightning Seeds back-to-back early on Friday, and Generation Sex and Manic Street Preachers on Saturday. 

In particular, Generation Sex were a great throwback to height of punk rock as Billy Idol was joined by former Sex Pistols, Steve Jones and Paul Cook, to alternate between the most famous hits from Generation X and the Pistols. 

Idol finished with the brilliant version of My Way from the latter - and delivered a typically energetic performance despite somehow having to style it out in a leather jacket in the sweltering heat. 

Of course, any good Glastonbury visit goes beyond Pyramid and Other with options available on over 100 stages, big and small - and smaller. 

Steve Earle delighted on the Acoustic Stage with the proper version of Galway Girl while Richard Thompson of 1970s folk revivalists Fairport Convention slowed everything down there on a sweltering Saturday. 

The eclectic sounds of Congolese groovers Kanga Bongo Man really got feet moving in front of the West Holts stage, while Sparks provided another perfect throwback on The Park. 

Arcadia and Silver Hayes remain the prime late night area for dance music enthusiasts - and the giant fire-spewing spider Arcadia delivered great visuals even for more casual listeners to the genre. 

Elsewhere, South African a capella quintet The Joy provided much joy to the Rabbit Hole on Friday night - but the main action into the early hours still comes from the south east corner. 

On Sunday night, my close friend Jonathan, his amiable work shift partner Tom, and another friend Chris all ambled along the Old Railway Path in a successful attempt to keep the Festival going as long as possible. 

The sights of the south east corner were as eye-opening as ever with personal highlights being The Unfairground and The Temple, a Colosseum-style rave venue. 

Additionally, bizarre space rockers Henge performed an entertaining set on the Truth Stage before the final journey back to the tent at 5am on Monday was pleasantly interrupted by the New York Brass Band on the Rocket Lounge. 

As if we could end up anywhere else... 

🔼

Back to the headliners on Pyramid - and the peaceful efforts of Yusuf/Cat Stevens somehow kept the ominous storm clouds away from delivering a downpour before Blondie stepped things up from opener One Way Or Another onwards. 

It was generally agreed, though, that Elton John provided the best big stage entertainment - while Arctic Monkeys on Friday night had been a major disappointment. 

Now, it is quite obvious that Alex Turner's group have undergone a significant style change since their debut album Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not. 

But there is absolutely no way that the frontman should be crooning away to old classics like Mardy Bum as well. It just doesn't work. 

Conversely, Guns N Roses on Saturday played in a far more orthodox hard-rock fashion - and, as such, will have pleased their hardcore fanbase.

The appearance of Dave Grohl during their closer Paradise City was a glorious way to finish - but the set, as a whole, lacked the wider connection to the crowd enjoyed by the Rocketman. 

Grohl, however, had already himself become the central figure of this edition of the Festival, as the worst-kept secret in Glastonbury history - the made-up band the Churn-Ups - were indeed revealed to be the Foo Fighters. 

Despite the lack of surprise, the one-hour set on Friday evening was the highlight of my seventh visit to Worthy Farm as the Foos were left simply no room for filler. 

Opening with All My Life, Grohl expertly navigated his way through the set via outright classics Learn To Fly, The Pretender, My Hero, Best Of You, and Everlong. 

The slower version of My Hero was the absolute height of my Festival - and for a very personal reason. 

Now, this edition of the Glastonbury was always going to be a pretty special one for me - having not been since 2017, I was desperate to go in what is my 40th year. 

Excitingly, in the ballot last October, I got a ticket - or, more accurately, I was part of a WhatsApp group all trying for tickets, of whom one man was successful for the rest of us. Thanks, Kieran. 

Thereafter, Jonathan worked out a route of six trains for me from my home town of Blaydon in Tyneside all the way to Bristol Temple Meads, via Hexham, Carlisle, Wigan North West, Birmingham New Street, and Cheltenham Spa. 

Remarkably, it worked out almost without a hitch except for an unscheduled change at Preston where my train from Carlisle abruptly terminated. Simply, though, I just had to board the service to Birmingham one stop early. 

In Bristol, I was offered an overnight flat by another lad Shing and stayed there with his mate Coops before catching the coach to the Festival on Thursday morning. 

With my beer and snacks brought onto site in ever-faithful John's campervan, it was all set up perfectly. In truth, though, a shadow hung over the whole journey. 

In March, a new reality had intervened after my dad was diagnosed with terminal cancer and renal failure, for which he needed dialysis to keep him alive. 

Then, on the very eve of the Festival, the hospital consultant advised that, due to the extent of the cancer, the dialysis was no longer effective. 

Devastatingly, my dad now had no further treatment available to him - and, suddenly, doubts inevitably crept in about the trip altogether. 

With the goodwill of my parents, I decided still to go but my thoughts were never far away from my dad. 

The lyrics by the Foo Fighters in My Hero read:

There goes my hero

Watch him as he goes

There goes my hero

He's ordinary 

The tears flowed. Of course, the tears flowed - those lyrics spoke so close to me. 

My dad has never come across as being, or wanting to be, any more than an ordinary bloke living a quiet life, working hard and raising a family. He has deserved a far more fruitful retirement. 

At the same time, my dad has actually always been My Hero - and, after the toughest few months of my life, I will be very soon watching him as he goes.

That moment at Glastonbury was like no other. Already this has been a year like no other. 

Match postponed

TOP-LEVEL football in the UK will not return until 30 April at the earliest as the coronavirus pandemic continued to cause carnage to the sporting calendar this week.

All games in the Premier League and the Football League, and all fixtures in Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland, are currently postponed.

However, at the same meeting on Thursday, the Football Association agreed that the current season can be "extended indefinitely".

Liverpool fans - having seen their team build up a 25-point advantage in their search for a first league title for 30 years - can rest a little easier perhaps.

Earlier, on Tuesday, Euro 2020 was postponed by UEFA until the summer of 2021.

UEFA President Aleksander Čeferin announced the delay of exactly 12 months to avoid "placing any unnecessary pressure on national public services" in its 12 host countries.

Sensibly, the postponement will also provide a chance for European leagues that have been suspended to be completed when action eventually resumes.

For now, though, it is unclear when exactly that will be.

Only last week, the Premier League and the Football League suspended their respective programmes of fixtures until 4 April, after confirmed positive results for Arsenal manager Mikel Arteta and Chelsea midfielder Callum Hudson-Odoi.

But the exponential increase in cases in the UK has already caused this further four-week delay to the resumption of the action.

The latest figures released by the Department of Health and Social Care show there have now been 3,983 positive cases of COVID-19 in the UK and 177 deaths from the virus.

Meanwhile, in terms of the numbers on a worldwide basis, there have been over 11,000 deaths from more than 270,000 positive cases.

In terms of declared fatalities, Italy - with 4,032 deaths - has now overtaken China (3,248 deaths), the place from which the strain is thought to have originated.

Back here in the UK, Prime Minister Boris Johnson held a press conference on Monday in which he advised that everyone in the UK should avoid "non-essential" travel and contact with others.

Mass gatherings in places such as bars, restaurants, theatres and sports arenas should be avoided, he added - and, yesterday, these venues were ordered to close their doors completely.

Of course, much of the sporting world had already taken matters into their own hands - and the presence of the Italians in the Six Nations meant it was unavoidably among the first competitions to be affected.

At first, only matches involving the Azzurri against Ireland on 7 March and England on 14 March were postponed - but eventually all three of the games in the final round fell victim to the virus.

Elsewhere, the England cricket tour of Sri Lanka was abruptly ended midway through a warm-up match with captain Joe Root admitting to "an element of relief" that the decision had been made to bring the squad back home.

In the meantime, the season in Formula One has not yet even got off the start line.

The Chinese Grand Prix was postponed as far back as February - but it took until the very eve of the season opener in Australia for the race at Albert Park in Melbourne to be called off.

Even then, it was only hastily announced by motorsport governing body the FIA after McLaren had withdrawn from the Grand Prix following the return of a positive result for a team member's coronavirus test.

Delays to the races in Bahrain and Vietnam were also confirmed last week.

However, just this week, the Dutch and Spanish Grand Prix have also now been postponed - and the blue-ribbon event in Monaco has been cancelled completely.

Nevertheless, an already-congested calendar could still be bursting at the seams when - or, maybe at this stage, if - the campaign eventually gets going.

Eight Grand Prix need to be completed in order to constitute a Formula One season.

Unsurprisingly, the worldwide tennis and golf tours have been suspended with the French Open tennis at Rolland Garros moved, merely in hope at this stage, to the autumn.

And, although the Cheltenham Festival was somehow completed last week, the big Grand National meeting at Aintree at the start of April is off.

In terms of individual sports, snooker perhaps took longest to react to the developing crisis - and the Gibraltar Open still took place last week behind closed doors.

Yesterday, however, World Snooker bowed to the inevitable and announced a delay to Judd Trump's world title defence at the Crucible until July at the earliest.

Rather remarkably, the Tokyo-based 2020 Summer Olympics are still scheduled, for now, to go ahead from 24 July until 9 August.

"We will overcome the spread of the infection and host the Olympics without problem, as planned," Japanese PM Shinzo Abe said.

But, while the situation in Asia may have stabilised and even improved, Abe appears to be totally deluded if he thinks Tokyo 2020 will simply proceed without a hitch.

The Japanese reluctance to cancel or even merely delay the Games is understandable considering their outlay of around 1.35 trillion yen (£10.26bn).

Nevertheless, it is currently impossible to envisage anything except for the Olympics being added to the great sporting scrapheap of 2020.

Now, of course, football and sport carry no particular importance while the whole of the human race fronts up to a virulent pandemic. 

Legendary Liverpool manager Bill Shankly was sadly misguided when he famously declared that football was more important than life and death.

But, another great football man - former Italy and AC Milan head coach Arrigo Sacchi - was spot on with his assessment when he said: "Football is the most important of the least important things."

At the moment, it is much missed along with the other sporting events which allow otherwise inconsequential weeks to trundle into months, and months into years.

Worryingly, though, coronavirus is not going away any time soon - and, as the peak rapidly approaches, it is going to get worse far sooner than it gets better.

Stay safe, keep well everyone, and remember to wash your hands regularly.

Things haven't gone to plan so far

Thing haven't gone to plan so far

Peter Wood ♦ Winlaton, Gateshead ♦ 2015

And all the things I want in life

They seem slowly to drift away from me

Like grains of sand between my fingers

Like embers from a bonfire suffocated by the cool autumn air

It all feels rather hopeless

And some people have their perfect job

And some people are getting married

And some people are having babies

And some people have all of this

And some people have none of this

And yeah I'm jealous

Yet why should I even try any more

I know I'll never be like them

I throw obstacles in my way

And it's hard to be a happy shiny person

When you're constantly hurdling

And falling

So here I find myself again

Three pints under

Or rather I don't find myself

For I already know that there are no answers

At the bottom of the pint glass

However much I squint

However much I hope sometimes

You see, somebody told me that once

Somebody

Somebody needs to help me sometimes

The scariest thing is

That person is always me

The Ashes 2013/14: Trott takes the first step to recovery

ENGLAND batsman Jonathan Trott began the long road to recovery after leaving the Ashes tour in Australia because of a long-standing stress-related condition.

Trott made only 19 runs from two innings in the first Test in Brisbane as he struggled to cope with the short, fast-paced deliveries of Mitchell Johnson.

Of course, he was far from alone in his struggles against man of the match Johnson as England went down to a horrendous 318-run defeat inside four days.

But everyone who is susceptible to mental illness has a tipping point and this was clearly his.

"I don't think it is right that I'm playing knowing that I'm not 100%," said the 32-year-old, who has undoubtedly made the correct choice in returning to the UK to spend some time with his family.

England coach Andy Flower described Trott as having managed his ongoing problems "very successfully" - and indeed he has since his debut in Test cricket in the decisive fifth Test of the 2009 Ashes series.

He began with a bang, scoring a century at the Oval to secure a return of the urn to England, and has remained a permanent fixture in England's Test and one-day teams, scoring 3,763 Test runs at an average of 46.45 and almost 3,000 one-day international runs at 51.25.

Anxiety and depression, though, are no respecters of past achievement or personal status, as previous England cricket internationals Marcus Trescothick and Michael Yardy are well-aware.

Trescothick had to leave the 2005-06 tour of India and the 2006-07 Ashes tour of Australia, and wrote extensively about his issues in his highly-regarded autobiography, Coming Back to Me. Left-arm spinner Yardy, meanwhile, flew home from the 2011 World Cup in India.

Trott has now joined Trescothick and Yardy in making the gut-wrenching decision to leave his team-mates - but he really should not think he has let anyone down. Instead, he should focus on how well he has done to get as far as he did under absolutely immense pressure.

Of course, that pressure only got worse during the course of a caustic first Test at the Gabba where Australia's desperation to begin an Ashes series on the front foot was belied by a rather nasty streak.

Aussie skipper Michael Clarke has even been fined 20% of his match fee for warning last man James Anderson that he was going to have his arm broken.

And, while Clarke defended his side's conduct as "banter" and "part and parcel of the game", sledging - though surely entitled to be inappropriate - is best achieved with some wit and intelligence.

Seemingly, that would be asking too much of the Australians whose coach Darren Lehmann, actually pretty unlikeable in his playing days, has done absolutely nothing to quell the growing tension.

It against this uneasy background, then, that Trott has been battling his demons - and his struggle was undoubtedly made much worse by David Warner's comments.

Warner described the England number three as being "poor and weak" in his dismissals and, though I agreed that he had a point in my match report, it is notable that the England set-up pretty much never bad-mouths an opponent.

Again, the Australians, while they have at last begun to start winning matches once more, have much to learn about winning with good grace.

Hopefully, Trott's departure will not encourage them but rather teach them to keep their gobs shut and take a leaf out of England's book to err on the side of caution.

After all, nobody really knows exactly what is going on in the opposition camp, and there would no doubt even be many within the England team who would not be fully aware at least of the extent of Trott's issues.

Presumably, the team doctors and psychologist would have known - but, ultimately, the decision to go on tour would have been that of Trott himself.

No one can or should blame him for choosing to travel away, especially given a shedload of evidence supporting the idea that he was managing his condition well. While obviously I cannot see inside his mind, his biggest fear was perhaps letting people down.

Please remember also that mental health issues are a lot more common than many people realise.

Statistics suggest that one in four people will experience some kind of mental health problem in the course of a year, and mixed anxiety and depression is the most common disorder in Britain.

I should know. Unfortunately, as previously shown on this very blog, I have also been in that desolate landscape more than once before. The illness completely debilitates you physically as well as mentally.

For, once sensitised by stress, pretty much everything can become a worry. The symptoms of anxiety are many and varied but sufferers will often be hyper-vigilant and study their bodies looking for something seriously wrong to justify the pain.

It is how, for example, I ended up being taken from the Guinness Storehouse exhibition on St Patrick's Day in Dublin this year to the nearby St James Hospital.

I was complaining of feeling faint and nauseous, and of having a racing pulse - but there was actually nothing wrong with me - or nothing serious anyway.

The fact that I had hardly eaten for the previous two days, because of an anxiety-nausea cycle, had left my blood sugar levels stupidly low.

Nevertheless, following a completely wasted night in a hotel room, I still went out to see the magnificent St Patrick's Day Parade... and, yes, actually enjoyed myself, in spite of the rain.

Total recovery takes much longer and requires a variety of remedies, including medication and cognitive-behaviour therapy, which will both presumably be offered to Trott as they were to me.

For now, though, the most important thing for Trott is time - and plenty of it, for there can be no pressure over how long it takes to sort this out.

With time comes desensitisation from the stress and, with a clearer head, a greater understanding of your personal unravelling process.

Once understood, the issues can be more easily solved - but very little can be achieved without having allowed the time to pass for the head to clear.

"Get well soon", though well-meaning, is an ultimately empty gesture when dealing with anxiety and depression. "Just remember your health is most important" is a rather better way of looking at it.

Good luck, Jonathan Trott, and well done already for taking the first steps to recovery.

End of the line: my ongoing battle

TODAY I went to work - there's nothing particularly remarkable about that in the grand scheme of things, of course.

Except that it was actually quite a big step for me. Things haven't been going so well recently and I have slipped back into old habits.

My propensity to panic had never really gone away - but, since March, I had become so overwhelmed that I felt powerless to stop a series of attacks which have debilitated me.

There were three notable occurrences one after another, each one hitting me harder than the last. Basically, I was back to square one, exactly how I felt before I went to Thailand.

Once again, I sought professional help and, I am not ashamed to admit for the first time that I accepted the need to take a regular anti-depressant drug.

Additionally, I was signed off work for six weeks from the start of April, and I am on a waiting list for another bout of therapy.

But, as a good friend pointed out, taking drugs and attending therapy will only get me so far, and some concrete changes to my lifestyle will be required.

Indeed, the time off work - other than driving me up the wall in sheer boredom, hence my early return - has led me to reappraise my life somewhat. I found plenty of room for improvement.

For example, I was drinking far too much - not necessarily heavily on each occasion but regularly (almost every night) and then there were weekend binges on top.

My diet and intake of food also needs to be reviewed, I think, and there are other issues like a total lack of self-esteem which I would rather not comment on further in a public forum.

The only other one to mention for now, relevant to this blog, is that I spend far too much time on the internet when I could be doing other more productive things.

Consequently, after more than four years and over 400 posts, this is going to be my final entry on TheIntrepidReporter blog.

Before I go, though, and without wishing to appear vainglorious, I would like to put on record just how immensely proud I am of this blog.

It may have lost its original purpose sometime ago but that has not left it any less fun updating what has been a fairly eventful few years.

After all, since I started in 2009, there has been a change in government here in the UK but more of the same in the United States, scandal in the national media and decline in the local press.

In sport, I have celebrated the biggest party of my lifetime last summer; not just one England victory in the Ashes - but two; and I have recounted how the favourites won the most recent editions of the football, cricket and rugby World Cup. In golf, Europe has won the Ryder Cup - again not just once but twice - while, in tennis, Andy Murray became Britain's first male Grand Slam winner for 76 years.

Meanwhile, my beloved Newcastle United have been relegated, promoted, thumped the mackems, got back in Europe, and horrendously got thumped back by the mackems. Still, it is reassuring to know that life is rarely dull at St James Park.

In all probability, there have not been nearly enough posts on this blog about my personal situation. My struggle to pass my driving test was fairly well-documented and there was a touch here and there about my impressions of the Glastonbury Festival and the Blaydon Races, for example.

But so little has changed in my life over the last four years that it actually seemed unworthy of comment. I am no nearer the journalism industry now when I started the blog, but that is not something which I wish to lament here.

Instead, I hope - and indeed must optimistically expect, that one day I shall look back on these moments as the toughest of my life, and then perhaps wonder why I had to put myself through so much.

This is an ongoing battle which will ultimately define me as a person in the long term, an internal conflict which I simply must not lose. And I am determined I will not.

Thanks for reading.


INDEX 2013
Index 2012 Index 2011
24.04 Index 2013

MEDIA/POLITICS
Home
09.01 Halfway to hell?
25.01 Cameron offers a way out of Europe
31.01 Out of bounds
01.03 Eastleigh stays loyal to the Lib Dems as Tories fall third
20.03 Budget 2013: Osborne yet to get Britain going
20.03 Cameron brokers long-awaited press regulation deal
10.04 Thatcher dies but her politics live on
Abroad
22.01 Hope springs eternal for Obama
12.03 Falklanders overwhelmingly opt to stay British

SPORT
FOOTBALL
Domestic
05.01 The Season 2012/13: Van Persie puts Man United "halfway" to title
05.01 FA Cup Third Round: Cup of woe continues for Newcastle
26.01 FA Cup Fourth Round: Man United on the box again
24.02 League Cup Final: Swansea sweep aside Bradford dream
28.02 Oh, when the Heed went marching in!
International
06.02 England beat the Samba Boys to mark FA anniversary
12.02 African Cup of Nations: Nigeria return to Nations Cup summit
27.03 World Cup qualifiers: England stutter while Scotland fall first

OTHER
Cricket
05.03 England receive Kiwi wake up call
26.03 England make yet another great escape
Cycling
18.01 Retired Cooke lances the boil
Grand National
06.04 Channel 4 takes up the Grand National reins
06.04 Auroras Encore lights up the Grand National
Rugby Union
02.02 Six Nations: All to play for
Snooker
20.04 World Snooker: O'Sullivan celebrates successful re-launch (results only)

Thailand 2012: From panic to paradise

SHUDDERING, sweating, and dry-heaving - all mixed in with bouts of sickness and diarrhoea. This was horrendous.

I also knew exactly what it was: the onset of another panic attack, and just three days before the start of the holiday of a lifetime to Thailand.

I was aware that it was a panic attack because, unfortunately, this was not an isolated incident. In fact, I had endured these episodes for some years now and foolishly done nothing about them.

These situations had indeed been mentioned in passing on this blog in the days when I was learning to drive.

In my review of my third failed test, entitled 'Under Pressure' no less, I wrote: "My anxiety was so bad that no rational explanation could calm me down and, due to the resultant insomnia, I expected that I may even have to cancel."

Meanwhile, another panic attack in London was the reason why a promised review of my work experience at the Camden New Journal back in 2009 was conspicuous by its absence.

For, on the first morning of that placement, I had a visceral reaction, similar to the one which I described in anticipation of the trip to Thailand.

Specifically, I was overwhelmed by the fact that, as a trained journalist following my successful NCTJ course at Darlington, I expected myself to work in a way that any other reporter would.

By rights, I should have been able to do this, of course.

However, the panic attack rendered me unable to do much around the office and this negative experience has been reinforced by my failure to do any placements elsewhere since. Perhaps, even though I am now seeking help, I am just not cut out for it.

Recently, I have found life more difficult, despite the support of excellent friends and family, as a series of relatively stressful events happened one after another.

For instance, in March, I was the best man at the wedding of my best mate. Now, making a speech is widely regarded as one of the most pressurised occasions of a person's life if they are not used to public speaking.

Rather than a touch of the nerves, though, I entered full-blown panic mode with stomach acid shooting up my oesophagus, making me nauseous and unable to eat the fine wedding feast on offer.

That, in the end, I still managed to stand up and deliver the speech was nothing short of remarkable, according to the doctor, and it remains for me a very proud moment.

Indeed, without declaring that I want a medal or anything, the fact is that I have always managed generally to muddle through with any task which I was feeling anxious about, undoubtedly showing some strength of character.

Sadly, my panic attack about Thailand - a holiday, for goodness sake! - was perhaps the worst I had ever experienced. And so, I finally decided it was time to seek professional assistance. 

My excellent GP immediately prescribed some diazepam to take me down off the ceiling and two days of this powerful stuff was enough to start and get me on the straight and narrow.

By Thursday 3 May, I was ready to make a decision about Thailand - and thankfully so, given that my train to the south was due to set off at just after 1pm. This was really cutting it fine.

In the end, I decided to bite the bullet and ensure that I did not waste a lot of money and a most wonderful experience. Whether I liked it or not, I was going to Thailand.

First, though, I was off to Reading for a couple of days before a flight from Heathrow to Bangkok via Zurich.

Handily included in that time was a trip to the CAMRA Reading Beer Festival which impressed with its size and organisation.

Then, on Saturday 6 May, the real deal began. Following a nervy landing at the short stop-off in Zurich, courtesy of a skiddy arrival on a sodden runway, I was at last on board a plane to Bangkok.

An episode of the Simpsons and the music of the Beatles, Bob Dylan, Bruce Springsteen, and Beethoven passed the time on the 10-hour flight which did not seem anywhere near as long to me.

And so to Bangkok. Admittedly, at first, I found the metropolis of the Thai capital a little overwhelming with its constant bustle.

But, after being introduced to the atmospheric Khao San Road - a Glastonbury-esque experience without the rain - I began properly to relax into my holiday.

I did not have long in Bangkok at this point to see the sights - although I did fit in my first ever ride in a tuk-tuk - as, once our crowd was assembled from various flights, we were off to the islands via a flight to Suritthani and a ferry.

Koh Samui and Koh Phangan are both idyllic places without being off the beaten track for the casual tourist (cf. the backpacker) and hiring scooters helped us get around the islands more easily.

In Lamai on Samui, we visited the Grandmother and Grandfather Rocks - so named because of their, er, appearance - as well as a nearby waterfall. Then, at night, we kicked back by drinking buckets of various concoctions at the Ark Bar while being hustled by nine-year-old children playing Connect 4.

Refusing to play one of the kids, she retorted that I was a "ladyboy" before running off. It was certainly not an insult which I expected to hear but quite amusing all the same.

Meanwhile, on Phangan, we reached the beach near the Haad Rin peninsula where the legendary Full Moon parties take place.

There was not one scheduled for when we were there and, though the expected Half Moon party was cancelled for renovation, the Jungle Experience near Baan Tai was an adequate replacement.

The week on the islands - four days on Samui, three on Phangan - were highly relaxing and exactly what I had needed. By this stage, there were no second thoughts in having taken the plunge.

Back to Bangkok for the second week and there was plenty of 'work' to be done if we wanted to see the sights.

The heat and humidity were tough going at the height of the afternoon but I soon learned that Sprite and the 7-Eleven shops were my friends and would just about keep me in my comfort zone.

So, what did we end up seeing in Bangkok then?

Well, the Grand Palace complex does indeed seem to be the grandest area of the capital. It is split into several quarters and features 34 buildings, many of which are still in proper use today.

But, while the Palace is one of the most extraordinary sights in Thailand, the mish-mash of its layout left me slightly confused and overwhelmed meaning my favourite tourist traps in Bangkok lie elsewhere.

Wat Pho nearby, for instance, is a much smaller complex but hardly forgettable on account of the huge Reclining Buddha which is its centrepiece.

And Wat Arun - the Temple of the Dawn (pictured) - is an imposing landmark on the west bank of Chao Phraya river, featuring a central prang of 86 metres.

Steep stairs allow tourists to clamber up the prang to gain a fine panoramic view of the skyscrapers overlooking the river - but more on that sort of thing a little later.

For, the entirety of the second week was not just spent in Bangkok: there was also an excursion out to Kanchanburi which took in the Kao Poon Cave and allowed us a walk along the reconstructed Bridge over the River Kwai.

A trip to a safari park required us to engage our consciences as it was clear that many of the animals were not treated particularly well.

Nevertheless, the feeding of bananas to giraffes and zebras produced happier memories and some great photographs. The giraffes were particularly friendly, moving their heads right inside the safari bus to snaffle the goodies while earning a stroke on the neck.

The second day of the tour featured the Erawan Falls, named after the three-headed white elephant of Hindu mythology.

I succeeded in reaching the top of the seven-tiered falls, and swam in gorgeous rock pools filled with unnervingly nippy fish. Later that day, I rode on the back of an elephant and then got comprehensively soaked when it swished river water with its trunk back over its head!

The remainder of the holiday was spent in Bangkok again, though our group of six dwindled in number as we left on our respective flights.

Even still on the last day when there were just two of us left, we made attempts to get around the city and be productive.

The stomach-turning Siriraj Medical Museum had been well-placed in a slot at the end of the break with its gruesome displays having earned it the nickname of 'The Museum of Death'.

And so it was just as well that it could be balanced out by some spectacular sights in our very last activity as we visited a skybar at the top of the State Tower.

Standing at a height of 810 feet, the view from the 64th floor was an amazing end to a holiday which I somehow almost never made it on.

I now know that staying at home would have been a foolish decision in the extreme and hindsight has caused me to shake my head in disbelief at a panic attack over a holiday.

Still, I cannot deny that it actually happened - and has happened in the past - and so the problem now needs to be dealt with properly.

In the meantime, the memories of my Thai hiatus are all good, and live on and on: many thanks to family and friends who helped me let it be.