It is the much awaited birthday of M. Everyone else is at least as excited as he is. Gemmy and I have put our heads together (well his head and my purse) and formed a plan for M and I to go to Thailand for a romantic day snorkelling. The reason we are going to Thailand is that apparently the corals nearer Langkawi have become very damaged - and you are shouted at constantly by tour guides. Off the coast if Ko Lips, Gemmy tells us, the corals are stunning. And predictably he knows someone who will take us out at cut price.
It is, truly amazing. Gemmy was right - and M is already very happy because his breakfast is garlic bread. It's the sort of thing you are not allowed to have for breakfast as a child. But there are no rules about breakfast in South East Asia. If you want to eat a full curry, that's fine. Noodle soup? Normal. Chilli baked fish with rice and vegetables? Yep. Anything goes. Except cornflakes. No one, thankfully, would even think of eating THEM.
Having said that - it's a slightly inauspicious start. The first snorkelling stop happens to be in deep and rough water. In hindsight it's probably not a great place to start. The coral there is notable because it's like an underwater coral mountain which you can just see the tip of. But it's in one specific place only, and the driver speaks no English. So he points at the sea and we jump in. M it seems, realises quite early that what the driver is trying to say is that the coral is 'here' - literally right here, in this one place, near the boat. But there's a large area that's roped off with buoys, normally signifying coral - and I can't hear M above the waves.
To cut a long story short I go splashing off like a baby shark right into the middle of the roped off area which is also quite far from the boat, am confused because I can only really see bits of seaweed and plankton and it's too deep to see the bottom, am swallowing a lot of sea water because it's so choppy the waves are just coming in through my snorkel tube as a helpful replacement to air and - well the currents quite strong. M gallantly swims over to rescue me and to inform me that the coral is back at the boat but it's loud in the crashing waves, difficult to swim against them and generally a bit scary. The current is a bit much for both of us, though we're managing, and we realise belatedly that really in these waves our driver should have recommended a life jacket. We don't normally need them but are normally snorkelling in calmer waters. Big waves don't make for good snorkelling. But then I suppose we were meant to just nip out of the boat and nip back on again. We make it back to the boat, largely due to M, but it's a little embarrassing. I sneak a glance at M. Have I ruined his birthday?
"No" says M, giving me a squeeze, "those were strong currents - I was scared too. It's an odd location yo snorkel."
We are a little apprehensive now, but all the following stops are rather more conventional snorkelling territory, near beaches or islands, shallower and much, much calmer. Interestingly looking back the only point at which I was genuinely in danger of not being able to swim, albeit slowly, back to the boat against the current, was in one moment when I panicked. M says something similar, though in his case it is that moment of panic on my part which panics him. In both cases we pull ourselves together quickly, and it's all over in a few seconds, but I really see why cabin crews on airlines and boats are taught so strongly not to let anyone panic. I wonder how often, in these situations it is actually the panic that kills you, ultimately, clouding your judgement and rendering you physically weaker against the elements. Once again, our minds can be treacherous things.
The next stop though is beautiful. Miles and miles of shallow coral. We wear life jackets this time but they are not really needed. In fact they have a strap which goes between your legs which may hold the jacket on but it's a little uncomfortable, however loose you make it. When M takes a picture from the boat of me snorkelling I am a little apprehensive. I rather suspect that strap is turning my bikini bottoms into a thong...
A word about the coral though. It's truly amazing. Each stop is more breathtaking than the last. We swim through eerie red landscapes of waving fronds, strange electric blue shapes which look like mouths perched on rock faces and which, every so often, open suddenly and swallow something. We see huge red fish with strange, oblong shaped mouths and skeletal markings. We swim among thousands of small, bright blue and yellow fish swimming close enough to tickle us. We see a ghostly, mournful looking rope from an abandoned anchor, swirling in the breeze, and long, stone coloured fish lying on the bottom, motionless hiding from predators or waiting to spring.
It's beautiful. By the time, sun burned, peppered with white salt marks on our skin, and very happy, we arrive back to the beach and take the ferry to Langkawi, we are satisfied that this has been a great birthday.
When we get back birthday boy is given a beer and made to sit quietly while Gemmy and I prepare a barbecue feast. We eat sweet corn and vegetable kebabs, rice and various stunning concoctions whipped up out of nowhere by Gemmy. Then, at Gemmy's instigation, we make cocktails from his extensive stash of spirits. Did I mention we drank a lot in Langkawi?
The highlight of the evening though, is a jubilant Gemmy emerging from the kitchen with none other than a home made birthday cake!
We sing, sending the various jungle animals rushing for cover and M makes a wish. He won't tell me what it is of course, but he does reveal that the wish he made, hurriedly and unexpectedly under 'Flaming Lamborghini' pressure, was that he would have 'a nice birthday'.
"And did you?" I ask.
"Of course," he says.
Unfortunately shortly after this he is stung by a Giant Asian Hornet, which, if meant as a present, was rather misjudged.
But it's OK. Apparently it doesn't spoil it. And he gets a lot of love and sympathy.
We retire to our room. We sleep.
Birthdays are a chance to say thank you to a person because your world is improved by them having been in it for another year. I have so much to thank M for. We have talked before, over another long, philosophising breakfast with Gemmy, about the way you tend to stop saying thank you to a long term partner, but still remember to be thankful to strangers. But, somehow, people do seem not to hesitate to pull your partner up when they've ignored you. If you are going to take them for granted, shouldn't you also take their flaws for granted, and unworthy of comment? Or, preferably, just keep saying thank you.
M's present from me, aside from the snorkelling, is a little box of thank yous.
Which is nice. But better, is always remembering to say it at the time. To build your partner up rather than tearing them down. Once you start doing it - we have been doing it a lot in Langkawi - it's nice. Like the complaining versus giving good feedback thing, you feel happier saying thank you than you do saying 'I wish you wouldn't do x or y'. Then, maybe x or y, whatever they are, grow smaller in the light of all those things you so love about them. Until they barely bother you at all.
It's a shame we are human and therefore cannot be this wise all the time. But hey, reach for the moon and you never know, you might catch a few stars on the way back.
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