We woke up in a bed that’s not ours, overlooking a bay that’s unfamiliar.
We had breakfast by the beach with a cool breeze dancing on our skin.
Afterwards, we went for a long walk away from the town and bustle. Stretching contentedly and with a big beaming smile on his face, my partner declared, “I’m ready to buy a house, Jac. Let’s find our dream home!”
I indulged him and we had a pleasant morning exploring:
Three likely candidates, but truth is, it’s quite complex to retire in a semi-remote island in Thailand. The main issue for me is medical – quality of healthcare and cost of insurance. Then there’s the complexity of buying landed property and the hassle of living here on a retirement visa.
He sighed regretfully, but is still reluctant to let go of the dream. “It’s so cheap to live here.”
Indeed, dinner in a beachside restaurant was less than £6 for two . We bought a couple of beers and found a remote beach.
I said consolingly, “That’s why, my love, I strive to make our home life as beautiful and as magical as possible. Because reality is what we life in. Not this.”
“In fukin Fulham?” He exclaims with mock incredulity, thinking about the small two bedroom flat in the middle of cold, expensive London we will be returning to, but there’s a glint in his eyes. He thinks back to those Battersea days he taught me to run again after my illness. Those winter days and nights were simply magical, despite the grey and the dreariness.
Reality is what you make of it, folks, albeit it’s nice to dream a bit ❤