Well, ok I'll be the first to admit that we're not exactly living a stressful existence right now but even here, on easy street, you can, apparently, develop little knots of tension that can be best eradicated by the titanium thumbs of a tiny Thai lass.

Heide and I, whilst staying at the quite beautiful (though pretty atrociously named) salad beach resort on the gorgeous island of Ko Pha Nang (pronounced anyway you like, lets face it, it's unlikely anyone you're sitting close to as you read this can speak Thai) decided that rather than just idle our days away soaking up the rays and gazing at the most remarkable beach and sea scene we've ever been lucky enough to witness we should do something constructive. Or perhaps more accurately, have someone else do something destructive to us.

So it was, with an enormous display of will power, that we hauled our way to the spa. I know, I know, the pain of it all. When we got there we found out that we couldn't undergo the same treatment. It seems that women can't get the full Thai massage, something to do with being too soft skinned. Sun burnt fellahs on the other hand, fair game. Alarmed? Me? Pah! Alarmed would be for the swift of mind and I was "Chang-ed" (more of that later!) Now, as we entered the deliciously chilled room, we weren't exactly aware of what awaited us. I grant you, we'd "enjoyed" a Turkish torture (November 22, 2003) and a blissful Balinese basting (May 7, 2004) and had heard that Thai massages we're somehow akin to both (well they're massages aren't they so I'd like to publicly praise the genius who shared that with us) but not exactly the same (chosen specialist subject... the bloody obvious) still it couldn't be bad, not by the looks of the pleasant, demure and only 7 stone (98 lbs for our US friends) Thai lass who was waiting for us. Holy crud, can looks be deceptive!?!?! Yes, she was indeed very pleasant, but did that gleaming smile mask the beating heart of a twisted, sadistic, merciless angel? Regardless, what we couldn't see was that her fingers, and most particularly, her thumbs, were in actual fact, heavy duty diamond tipped reamers. Use of these bruising digits have apparently been requested to show that ANWR (Arctic National Wildlife Refuge) can be drilled in without causing any major environmental catastrophe (the damage to the back, feet, arms, neck, legs etc. of those who willingly go under the thumbs is not mentioned) I honestly don't know where the power she possessed came from. It certainly isn't in her frame, this was no east European track and field athlete from the days when they were force fed steroids, she was tiny. I know this because she stood on me. A lot. And it didn't hurt. But her pinkies, oh lordy could they probe, with at least as much discomfort as an endoscope (though I should make it abundantly clear, without probing the same spots. This was a spa resort not the beach at Pataya!)

It all started with a foot massage. Sounds relaxing doesn't it? Well I suppose it is; if your preferred sleeping location is a bed of six inch nails and your idea of a good night out happens to involve a dominatrix. As it goes, this isn't what I call fun. So when I had the strange sensation of each of the 26 bones found in each foot being well and truly mashed I winced. Repeatedly. Heide, of course found this to be nothing short of the height of amusement and openly encouraged the brutality. I've never seen her make such a fist and "POW!" noise. Slightly disturbing of course, but not, I'm afraid, distracting enough to push the pain away. I can, I'm sure, count this as the only time in my life I wished I had hooves rather than delicate size sevens. Still in just over an hour my time would be up and then it would be Heide's turn. Ha, ha, ha, ha!

I was informed that there are more "pressure points" on the soles of the feet than anywhere else in the body. It would seem that this lass knew them all, on first name terms and regularly brought them out to the delight of all demons. I'm not exactly sure what my feeling was when my feet beat was through, perhaps a sense of puzzlement, my feet did feel odd after all, perhaps a sense of wellbeing, knowing that my energy was re-arranged (or something like that) or, and this is what I most suspect, I was giddy with relief. I didn't exactly like it to be perfectly honest.

But when she moved those claws in to the legs, things got better. No less painful but certainly better. The drill like fangs that were her phalanges seemed to fillet first the calf, then the thigh and botty. And it felt good, real good! I'm not sure why. It really should have hurt, and I suppose it did in a way but it really was a sublime sort of pain. It is akin to a major work out, involving as it did: a series of sit ups, much stretching and ultimately the sense of satisfaction. There was as I mention much to enjoy in this work out along with much to ponder. For example: How could this lady manipulate my legs into resembling Joe Theismann's at his most painful and floppy and yet I have no ill effects? Is it anatomically possible for the spine to recover from having been twisted and coiled like a piece of rope? Who first discovered that this could be good for you? and perhaps more pertinently, how and why did they do it? Then as the mind and body both become slightly clouded other questions arise such as: who would win a fight between Bruce Lee and Hong Kong Phooey? Why didn't Icarus listen to his dad? My, that's a mighty subtle segue to say a very happy fathers day to the men both Heide and I always listened to... cheers dads!

Still such, indeed any, thoughts fled from my mind as the massage continued... around my eye sockets!!! In any other world this would be called "gouging" and against the laws of both decency and any proper sport. By the time our little masseuse had finally finished me off Heide's glee was fleeing faster than General Custer's opinion that he could handle a few indians. Ahh. Pity. As the blissful post massage feeling, relief or actual bliss, I don't know, washed all over me Heide had yet to run the gauntlet of having her calves shredded, let alone the the poke in the eye! Revenge is a spicy dish best served by a small Thai lass!

Anyway, when we were done and had enjoyed a sauna to finish the spa experience a fantastic feeling swept over me. I was on top of the world. I felt like I could run a marathon, I was absolutely buzzing it was superb.

All this cured me, quite comprehensively, of the condition I mentioned earlier, of being "Chang-ed". Now to "get Chang-ed" is quite different from "being Chang-ed". Chang, is apparently the most popular beer in Thailand. The only reason I can come up with is that it's cheaper than all the other brands. Oh, yeah, and it's strong! You don't know this while you're "getting Chang-ed" but believe me you really know about it when the next day you are in a condition that is definitely "Chang-ed". It wipes out all comers, all day, just as surely as a Tsunami would. It's a fearsome effect. Sadly Heide and I let our guard's down and we're led astray by two of Ireland's finest: Jason and Carol from Wexford made us join the Chang gang! I can honestly say that the when "Chang-ed" one would probably gladly swap this pitiful situation for a place on a Mississippi chain gang. It's much less barbaric. We had a few really good days with Jason and Carol and look forward to seeing them again some day soon. In a place where they don't sell Chang! Cheers guys!