So once again I find myself on a hospital bed.

This time I'm staring out at a glorious day and the low curve of sand that comprises the isthmus on the island Phi Phi, Thailand where the town of Ton Sai has been rebuilt after the Boxing Day tsunami obliterated it five years ago. It's idyllic, except for the nasty 2 inch long gash in heel of my right hand, close to the bone, gobbules of yellow fat shielding the full depth of the cut. The doctor has a look inside and tells me she can see the artery pulsating away but fortunately it's unsevered and as a bonus I can move all my fingers. Aside from repeated jabs to freeze the tissue and the odd needle through unfrozen flesh as she puts 7 sutures in, it's surprisingly painless though watching Karen's not-so-poker-face made me think I was having an ampution. An hour and 2200 baht later and I'm back walking the beaches of this Garden of Eden. How did it happen? Flippers, a stumble in a foot of water and a very sharp barnacle or piece of coral.

This wasn't the blog posting I was going to write about Koh Phi Phi, which truly is paradisic, but as that one would have bordered on gloating to those trappped in offices with the winter sun setting at 3:45 pm, I think I got my karmic feedback ahead of the act of blogging vulgarity or else it's a twist on that old favourite Biblical plot of bissful lounging in the Garden of Eden always being buggered by the hand of man.

No gloating here.