On Koh Chang he shaves first signs of his adolescent moustache, breaks voice and masters a moped, all at breakneck speed.
Koh Samet persuades his bare feet, underwater dives, choosing calamari over cheeseburger.
In Bangkok he unglues his phone from his hand, eats chicken feet noodles with chopsticks.
Hua Hin hears him urging tuk-tuk drivers to “Lil! Lil!” and hurtling down Black Mountain waterslides.
In Pattaya he go-karts to winner, stacks it, laughs. His crowd handling and a wrong turn into Soi 6 raise one momentary blush.
Flying home, he rejects my nana hand. “Sal, I can handle turbulence now.”
Mum-nag to four, besotted nana-slave to four more. A published non-fiction writer. I love travelling (anywhere), enjoy writing (words). Redundancy this year provides freedom and opportunity to combine words and travel, leisurely. My name is still Sal and apparently my Netflix has just run out.