Sometimes holidays have a way of becoming memorable for all the wrong reasons. You know those days where you have a plan, then the universe looks at it, has a little laugh, and sends you in a completely different direction? Today was nearly one of those days.

We woke to what can only be described as a tropical cyclone… or at least that’s what the wind outside felt like. It was absolutely howling. The palm trees were bending over like they were trying to touch their toes, and the sea looked like it had absolutely no interest in welcoming visitors.

Lucky I’d been awake early. It gave me plenty of time to research a Plan B should Mother Nature decide she’d had enough of beach days. An hour later I was armed with a list of options, because that’s what you get when you book through Hannah’s Travel Services. No booking fees, but plenty of unsolicited itineraries.

Today also happened to be Bek’s 50th birthday. Mumma, Jamei, Boz and I had arranged to meet in the living room at 8.00 am so we could storm her bedroom and kick off her milestone birthday in true family fashion.

If you’ve never experienced our family singing “Happy Birthday”, it’s… an experience. The tune is optional, everyone picks their own key, and because we have Ukrainian heritage, Bek also scored the bonus Ukrainian version. I suspect the neighbours felt like they’d stumbled across an international choir rehearsal. Followed by a quick family meeting in bed about the day’s plans.

With the beach temporarily off the agenda, we headed out for breakfast to see if the weather would make up its mind. Somewhere between coffee arriving and breakfast being demolished, Boz produced a deck of cards. What started as a casual game of Go Fish quickly escalated. I’m not saying anyone is competitive, but there were definitely sneaky side‑eyes, suspiciously well‑timed requests, and more than one person trying to crack the code of everyone else’s hand.

By the time breakfast was over and we’d spent a short spell back at the villa, the wind had eased enough to put the beach back on the agenda. Little did we know, the weather wasn’t going to be the most dramatic part of the day.

The water looked inviting again, and we’d negotiated a good deal for 4 of us to jet ski which seemed like an excellent idea.

Spoiler alert: it was.

Flying across the water with the wind in your face is one of those things that instantly makes you feel like you’re on holiday. It was an absolute blast. For me it was another bucket list tick, and the birthday girl was grinning ear to ear too. After a very ungraceful dismount I headed back to the sand first as Bek, Haylie and Boston rolled in one by one.

Unfortunately, the fun came to a fairly abrupt end when Boz brought her jet ski back and there was some yelling in Thai and the owner came down to the beach, claimed there was damage to it.

Haylie and Jamei weren’t buying it. They checked footage they’d taken before and after, and while I could agree the scratch looked different, no one could explain the extent of the damage. The discussion became… animated. Voices were raised, opinions were shared, and somewhere in the middle of it all the owner decided to call the police. Escalating very quickly.

Nothing says “relaxing beach holiday” quite like standing in the hot sun waiting for the Tourist Police to arrive. By the time I wandered over, emotions were running pretty high. I managed to calm things down, work through what had happened, and eventually reached an agreement to pay off the owner so everyone could just move on with their day. And look, I’m committed to keeping this blog lively, but not to the extent of spending quality time with the local police just for content. Besides, I already had enough stress wondering if tonight’s birthday party plan was actually going to come together — one brush with disaster per day is plenty. Sometimes you catch more bees with honey than you do with vinegar.

Poor Boz was absolutely devastated and felt responsible for the whole thing, even though sometimes these situations are just part of travelling. It certainly wasn’t how any of us imagined spending our morning.

Thankfully, the day improved from there.

We grabbed some lunch, Harper beelined for an inflatable that immediately became the greatest invention in human history, and we spent lunchtime watching the endless parade of beach hawkers making their rounds. Meanwhile, I was quietly running my own marathon in my head. For the past two days I’d been chasing confirmation about a chef, a birthday cake, and decorations, sending messages to the villa owner and nudging the onsite staff, but nothing was coming back with the certainty I needed. It is one of those planner jobs where if it all works, nobody notices, and if it falls apart, everyone does. I didn’t share the stress with anyone else, because why worry the group, but inside I was convinced I might be about to preside over Bek’s 50th with nothing but takeaway noodles and a candle. So while everyone else was laughing at hawkers and inflatables, I was also researching backup plans, mentally drafting worst‑case scenarios, and refreshing my messages like a woman possessed.

After all the excitement, we headed home for the evening’s party (or not party). It was only around 3.30pm (3 hours before we’d planned to eat) I could exhale. I find out the staff are cooking for us, and the cake and decorations are on their way. Phew, crisis averted.

This has left me wired, and part of me still expected something to fall through at the last minute. That’s the hidden tax of being the planner. So even as the villa buzzed with excitement about dressing in white and the promise of three courses, I was still half‑watching the clock, waiting for the food to appear, the cake to arrive, and the decorations to materialise. Only then would I let myself believe the party was real.

Dinner was the kind of payoff that makes all the behind‑the‑scenes stress worth it. The staff delivered three courses that felt both celebratory and comforting, the personalised cake arrived exactly as hoped, and the decorations transformed the villa into a proper party space. Once everyone was seated, we pulled out the bunch of pre-planned randomised questions (thank you Copilot), and the night took on a whole new energy.

What started as light‑hearted prompts quickly uncovered stories and insights we’d never heard before. The very first question, “Which family member would accidentally get arrested overseas?,” could not have been more perfect given the day we’d just had – and the answer was unanimous….Jamei! The timing was uncanny, and the laughter that followed was so loud the neighbours probably wondered what was going on (again). From there the questions bounced us between hilarity and reflection, with some answers making us pause. It was the perfect mix of fun and depth, the kind of evening that reminded me why I’d stressed so much to make sure it all came together.

After dinner came dancing, the kind of carefree shimmy that only happens when everyone’s full of good food and laughter. Bek and Haylie were lured into what looked like a romantic poolside photo opportunity, all soft smiles and white outfits glowing under the lights. What they didn’t know was that Jamei and Boston had been plotting. Just as the picture was about to be snapped, Jamei gave them a shove and in they went, splashing down in perfect synchrony while Boston filmed the whole thing like it was a blockbuster reveal.

The rest of us were doubled over, half horrified and half delighted, while Bek and Haylie surfaced laughing, dripping, and still somehow managing to look glamorous. It was the perfect finale to a day that had started with gale-force winds and police drama but ended with cake, dancing, and a poolside prank. Days don’t have to be perfect to be memorable, and this one closed with full bellies, big laughs, and the kind of smiles you carry home with you.

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