We had a very calming and tranquil morning today, spending time lazing by the pool. It felt good to finally relax and have some down time. We have travelled extensively over the last few weeks and I am personally feeling rather drained; a few hours in the beautiful tropical gardens of our hotel was just what the Doctor ordered. Just us, an old overweight white man and what looked like his young Cambodian partner, were gently whiling away the hours doing a spot of reading, checking emails and in my case writing, surrounded by amazing scenery, tall palm trees and lush green foliage! The sun was beating down and at 35 degrees, I could feel every bit of it; it reminded me of my days living in Australia; in many respects this was a place I was immediately drawn too!

Lotus Farm

In the afternoon, my Aunt and I had arranged a trip to a lotus farm and floating village at Tonle Sap, near Siem Reap. On our arrival, we were greeted by some of the inhabitants, who asked us to try some fruit from the Lotus flower. The subtle taste was unlike anything I had eaten before. The farm itself was situated in a vast area of flatlands, as far as the eye could see; small pyramids in a sea of green!

The terrain was wonderfully picturesque, rays of sunshine dancing off the pools that surrounded the village and a gentle breeze blowing through, rustling the tops of the lotus plants and agitating what looked like a waterwheel in the centre of the village. In every direction you could hear wind chimes tingling in the doorways of the small pyramid thatched homes where farmers and their families live. The air was clear; no pollution punctuating the air and the smell of other colourful flowers drifted across the landscape; inviting, directing us to a large meeting house at the heart of this small community.

After forty five minutes, we left for the next stage of our visit and a trip to one of the floating villages, Cambodia is famous for!

Floating Village

We arrived at a rather busy port on the lower Mekong Basin, where we would depart on the half hour journey to the middle of this freshwater lake. There were twenty or so boats of differing sizes, many of which looked tired and in a state of disrepair, They were packed with tourists and visitors, all heading in the same direction. Gingerly we walked along the pier, towards our boat, which looked older than any of the other vessels there.

I sat down on one of the old wooden seats and looked around. Above hung life jackets and other tools the tiny crew on this boat would need, all stacked above wooden beams and the tarpaulin roof, already blowing in the strengthening wind. Below our feet the deck boards were laid haphazardly, large gaps in the joints giving us a view of the water below. The structure of the boat was open to the elements and there were leather straps above our seats, so we could hold on as we made our way up the Mekong Delta.

The sound of a loud horn and a plume of rather concerning black smoke, signified our departure. The noise of this ancient boat was indescribable as it shuddered into life. Rocking from side to side, slowly edging us towards our eventual destination. As someone who usually gets sea sick, I was actually dreading this adventure, especially when I saw the state of the boat we would be travelling in, but in reality, I found the journey to the village quite soothing. At times we were passed by other larger vessels, which shook us violently from side to side, but it didn't seem to matter. Obviously I would have preferred a more luxurious craft, but my experience was made more memorable by the conditions we tolerated on our way!

The entrance to Tonle Sap was busy; there were boats carrying tourists and commercial baggage in every direction. As we picked up speed, we could see small villages on the banks of the river, markers directing ships away from the rocky edges and people fishing, with children playing alongside. This was a view alien to a Westerner like me and despite the poverty on display, it was strangely attractive and alluring, completely different to rivers back home.

Eventually we made our way out of the thin channel of water, rather like a road, that directed us to what seemed like open sea. I remember thinking to myself how vulnerable we were, bobbing up and down in the middle of no where and water as far as the eye could see. Looking around, confused, I couldn't see a thing, until we changed direction and headed over the horizon. A wooden marker loomed heavily, telling me we were there. Other small buildings, built on stilts gradually became more visible, until we arrived at the centre, where other vessels were moored; a hive of activity, where tourists mingled with the locals.

As we alighted the boat, I spied a child at the side of the craft next door. He had a large snake around his neck and was parading it up and down, like a trophy he had won. My Aunt, who has a real fear of these creatures was less than impressed, but this was just part of life here in the floating village and really not that unusual in Cambodia.

Neither my Aunt or I were aware of just what was beneath our feet, as we walked around the wooden structure. In order to survive, this river community farm fish and to our astonishment, crocodiles. In the centre of this landing platform  there was a large pit of writhing, hungry, flesh eating crocodiles, all waiting for their next meal. As one looked through the gaps between the boards on the floor, one could see other crocodiles walking about just a few meters below. I think my Aunt was more horrified than me. It wasn't really a place to hang around for long!

Finally we ended our tour of this floating village, with a prearranged dinner on the 'Queen Tara,' a large ship anchored away from the village itself, offering panoramic views of this amazing Cambodian wonder. A floating village, with a school, shops, post office and other local amenities, working in harmony with the environment in which it is situated; a truly magnificent site, looking out across this amazing structure, as the sun fell gently below the horizon.

The food on 'Queen Tara' was basic and typically Cambodian. We sat at a table with Robin and Molly, an Australian couple from Perth, where Darrell is from and two young Asian ladies from South Korea, who usually worked in The Philippines. We chatted for an hour, about our travels and our lives living in different parts of the World. By the time I had finished my third pint, it was time to leave and bid farewell to this unique waterside collective in the middle of what was described as the biggest fresh water lake in Asia. This would be one experience I would never forget!

....and it wasn't over yet....

The sky was dark, there was no light anywhere to be seen. The wind had increased substantially as we made our way back in the boat towards the port from where we came. Half way along our course, smoke started to bellow from the back of the craft. My heart sunk as I realised something was up.

Suddenly the smoke turned to fire, as the back of the ship glowed red. There was panic as the man at the back of the ship ran around the side of the boat, asking for help from the two other crew on board. By now I was also beginning to get scared and fear the worse; I really felt this was it.

Running back to the rear, he started to throw water on the fire, without success, shouting and screaming to his crew mates. I just put my head in my hands and prayed we would all survive. As I opened my left hand, another crew member also ran to the rear and began to stamp the fire out. The smell of thick acrid smoke was terrifying, but eventually the fire was extinguished and we limped home.

This was probably the most amazing experience of my lifetime and something I will never forget. The sights and sounds of the village in the middle of a lake will remain with me forever. The ups and downs of this trip made our journey all the better and as we approach the end of our journey I am grateful we survived to tell the tale!

A tribute and donation page has been opened for Mum by her undertakers. Please take a little time to click on the picture above and leave a message. You can also make a donation to Diabetes UK, a charity close to our family's heart. We all look forward to hearing from you.

Since Mothers death on 1 October 2019, we have received many cards, messages and emails from family and friends, wanting to express their sympathy at the death of Mum. Dad is finding these reflections particularly comforting at this time and we would like to thank you all for the contributions you have made.

My employers have also been understanding, approachable and reassuring, presenting me with flowers and cards from the team at Tesco. I have also received cards and gifts from colleagues, offering a shoulder to cry on and a friendly ear if needed. Personally I can't thank everyone enough for their kind words, it means a lot to me. Without all of you being there, my life would have been far harder. The fact that I do have so many people around me, is testimony to the nature of those I call friends.

If you would like to pay your respects and attend Mum's funeral, we would be delighted to see you. Both my Mother and Father came into contact with many people over their fifty two years together - School friends, work colleagues, friends and family and we would like to see as many of you attend, to celebrate my Mothers life as you can. In recent years, due to the nature of Mum's condition, they lost contact with many who were close. Reconnecting Mother, even in death with those who came into her life, would be a fitting tribute to a lady who died, well before she should!

We went straight to the Co-operative Funeral Directors in Fareham, to hand over the paperwork to Pam, who had been liaising with my Father. She explained a little about the process involved, as Mother's body is moved to the Chapel of Rest. We were asked if we wanted to see Mum while she was there and arrangements for the funeral on the 28th October were discussed. I am still in two minds, whether to visit Mum or not. After seeing Mother pass away, I don't want my memories tarnished and want to remember her the way I do now. I have a few weeks to make up my mind, so will think about it for now.

When we arrived at Dad's bungalow, it really didn't feel the same. Mum's bed was just inside the back door, where the dining room used to be. She was sat there watching morning television or the soaps in the evening, the table in front of her covered in the things she used on a daily basis. There was always a newspaper, the obligatory hairbrush, a mug of coffee or tea and the medication she took each day. Mum always had a smile on her face and a twinkle in her eye, happy to see visitors who walked through the door!

Today this small room off the kitchen was empty, just a table and television in the corner. Mother's soul had left the fabric of the building and everything seemed stark and empty. Mum may well have been bed bound, but she had a big personality, always full of life and her mark was no longer there. I felt sad at the loss of Mum and the grief we are all feeling, but most of all I was upset that I would no longer see her face and hear her voice. Mum was really gone and all our lives have changed in the blink of an eye.

Sat in the lounge with Dad, we reminisced about the old days, as I looked through the sympathy cards on the mantle piece. We tried to look forward to the future, while laying the past to rest. A knock at the door and a neighbour popped round to offer their condolences, another card to add to the list. We will all go through this one day and watch our partner, husband or wife pass away, but it isn't until someone close dies, that you really understand the pain involved. Grieving is deeply personal, no one knows just how long it will take, but those closest make it easier as we adjust to life without the one we love.

Dad took us for lunch at Titchfield Mill, just across the road from where he lives. This beautiful wooden beamed building has many happy memories for him; a place he used to visit regularly as a child. From here we went to Titchfield Village and a trip down memory lane.

Dad and to a certain extent me, grew up in Titchfield. It is our family's village and used to be a big part of my childhood. Great Granny Light used to live just off the square and I would often visit her with Mum and Dad when I was a child. I do have very vivid memories from that time and I loved the idyllic surroundings that I revisited on Monday.

On Carnival days, as children, we would sit upstairs in Great Granny's bedroom, waving at the floats as they trundled past. Curled up by the warm fire on a cold October evening, we would run in and outside, waving our flags and watching the fireworks on display. I loved seeing Great Grans house again after so long; it really has changed out of all proportion, but it is still the house I remember from the 1970s, homely, comfortable and full of character in a village that hasn't changed that much.

With the rain pouring down, we then went to visit Great Aunty Peggies house, who lived just around the corner from Granny and who we continued to visit, long after Granny Light had died, right up until the early 1990s. Today it is a dental surgery, but essentially just how I remember it. Also the church when my Gran Gran got married and the old butchers shop where we used to buy our meat, really no different to it used to be and of course the three pubs that are still there in this tiny village, where I would sit and have a Coke or two with my Mum, Dad and Brother when I was a child. It's good to see some things haven't changed!

It was a great comfort for Dad and I spending an hour in Titchfield. This was a place that holds many memories for us. If I am honest I felt closer to Mum here than anywhere else, because she was always with us when we visited relations. When I was a child, as a family we always walked everywhere, even to the village from our home, then a few miles away. It is a sad irony that Mum lost both her legs in the end, because she always liked to walk, keep fit and have her independence. Unlike most peers of my age, my Father didn't have a car, only learning to drive later in life. As a consequence I felt a connection to places like Titchfield, that others may have missed, only driving through at speed, not even taking a second look.

Despite living in cities for most of my life since, I long to return to a simpler time, with Mum and Dad walking along the abandoned railway track, picking blackberries as I went, heading towards the village I have always called home. With Mum no longer with us, it is more important now than ever, to reconnect with the life that made me who I am. Mum's spirit will live on through the memories and recollections I write about, her legacy secure. I no longer feel separated from the place of my birth, I finally feel that connection again, the one I left behind, all those years ago!

As Mum slowly slipped away, I looked around the room. It was stark in comparison to her other visits. There was a bag of medication on the floor and a hairbrush on her table and that was it. The minutes after Mum's death were deeply moving for all of us there, but Mother had gone, her spirit had left the room when she breathed her last. Talking had turned to crying, as it was time to say that final goodbye.

Rebecca, the nurse in charge had asked that we remove all Mum's personal effects when we are ready to leave. Dad said he wanted to stay until the sun came up, not wanting to leave Mum alone in the dark. It's not easy leaving the lady you were married to behind, after spending fifty two years together, every day of your life. Mum and Dad were inseparable, loving each other deeply, since they met at school in the 1960s. They were childhood sweethearts then, as they were when Mother finally passed away. The love and affection on my Father's face was as clear as day; he didn't want to let go, he didn't want to say goodbye.

I walked over to the bedside table and picked up Mum's hairbrush and said I would take it home with me, as a small reminder. After I removed her glasses and closed her eyes, I finally brushed her hair, as my Father had done many times before. Mum always had perfect hair. No matter how ill she was, there was always a hairbrush not too far away. Ever inch a lady she looked immaculately turned out without exception, wanting to look perfect, even in hospital. As I gently brushed her hair, I thought about all the times, she had done the same for me and I was happy to do it for her one last time. Mum was lying there fast asleep and I wanted to make sure she looked perfect before we left.

Both my parents were hairdressers, which explains why they always wanted to look their best.   As a child I was used to seeing friends and family coming round our house, coiffured, pampered and permed, made to look a million dollars. Old ladies, scary, without makeup, hair backcombed high, a purple scarf to protect them from the elements, a bit of lippy  before they went outside. I would find hair clips that had gone astray lying in the carpet, walked around pretending to be a monster, claw like hands, with hair rollers on each finger and inhaling the setting lotion and peroxide bleach, holding my nose for dear life.

Growing up as a hairdressers son was never dull, I had more Uncles and Aunts than I can remember. Fawned over by ladies, ruffing my hair and feeding me sweets, I enjoyed being sat in a chair listening to those stories hairdressers and clients talk about. Cups of tea, digestive biscuits and magazines, all part of the course when you are a hairdresser son!

Mum's hairbrush is the most precious thing in the World to me, a reminder of someone who brought me into this World, loved me unconditionally and was proud to call me her son, no matter how bad I may have been at times. Loosing someone close is hard,  the hardest thing I have ever experienced. Writing, remembering and reminiscing allows me to come to terms with loss, but tangible memories are a link to Mum, who is no longer with us. Whether a piece of jewellery, photograph or hairbrush, the meaning is the same - The love a Mother has for her sons and a bond that will always be there!

Writing has always been a great healer for me, so today it is more important than ever, to put words on a page and express how I feel. At 12.20 this morning, my precious, precious Mother passed away peacefully at The Queen Alexandra Hospital in Portsmouth. With my Father and Brother, I spent a final forty five minutes talking to Mum, reassuring her and watching as her life slowly slipped away. The great battler in my life, the person who never flinched in pain, always thought of others and cared deeply about her family, was no more. As I sat there remembering my life with Mum, I was struck by the way she conducted herself, even in death. My Mother will forever sit at the end of my bed, wipe my tears away and make everything better. The memories I cherish will live on in the hearts of those who loved her and the dreams of a family who remained the linchpin of her life.

It was 10.45 in the evening when I received a call from Rebecca, a nurse in the Cardio unit of Queen Alexandra Hospital. She had been trying to get hold of family without success, Mum was about to take her final journey. To be honest I had been expecting this for a long time and remained calm and collected as I phoned my Father, telling him of the grave situation Mum was in. My Aunt then phoned my Brother and I was on my way to the hospital in a taxi.

I had no idea what to expect; the last time I saw Mother she was in excruciating pain, crying out for help, distressing for all of us there at the time. Mum's high pain threshold had deserted her, despite everything she had suffered, she was in more pain now than ever and deep down I knew the end was in sight. When I arrived in ward C7, Mum was laying up in bed, breathing very slowly unable to see me. She was unaware I was there holding her hand, but as the nurse said to me, able to hear my every word. I spoke softly to her, gently asking her to close her eyes and fall asleep, one last time. Kissing her on the brow, I stroked her hair, wiping a tear from her eye. My Mum was dying and I wanted to be with her til the end.

A Doctor knocked on the door and asked if I would accompany him to a private room, where he explained the gravity of the situation. Mum's organs had failed and she wouldn't last the night. We discussed whether or not she should be resuscitated and just what the hospital was doing, to make her as comfortable as they could before she slipped away. I said there should be no attempt to bring her back, but let her die with dignity, quietly surrounded by loved ones. My Father would have the final say on this matter of course, but I was sure he would agree.

Shortly afterwards my Father and finally my Brother arrived and we spent the next half an hour talking and expressing our love for Mum. This was an emotionally charged scene and a deeply private time for us, so don't want to go into too much detail. I was reluctant to see Mum in this state, but recalling it now, I wouldn't change me being there for anything. As Mum breathed her last, she looked as beautiful then as she always did.

Gently I removed Mum's glasses from her face and closed her eyes, handing the spectacles to Dad. My Brother was emotional and upset and we both did our best to comfort one another. Neither him or I were used to this kind of situation, so while my Bother and Father, sat with Mum, I went to reception and did the necessary paperwork, phoned members of our family and of course my husband Darrell, who overcome with emotion, cried down the phone. In Darrell's words: 'Lost a Mum today, a beautiful fighter. She took me in  when I was far from my Mum, kind and accepting. Sleep under the Milky Way with us my dear!'

Leaving Mum behind was difficult, but after a 60 years of suffering, she had gone to a much better place and is no longer in pain. Mum was always very stoical in many respects but illness and advancing age is a terrible thing. Mum had type 1 diabetes and had learnt to live with it for over half a century. The complications she had sustained were many and great - from three amputations, sepsis and failing organs, but she always managed to bounce back and live another day. This time however, even a hardened battler like Mum couldn't win through!

My Mother wasn't just a battler, but she was also a hard worker, holding down two jobs when my Brother and I were small and also managing to provide a cooked meal everyday. She was always at home when we got home from school and didn't have a bad bone in her body! Mum was a housewife first and foremost, a grafter in every sense and a lady through and through. I have many fond childhood memories and despite not always showing it, I loved her greatly. This was a woman I respected, never swore at or in front of and always thought of, no matter where I was living in the World.

When a parent dies, there are no written rules about how to deal with it. How should I feel? How should I act? How do I cope?... and most importantly... How do I deal with what comes next? As I sit here writing today, I have so many questions; I keeping thinking, could the hospital have done more? and just how can I help without treading on anyone's toes and upsetting my Brother or Father. My theory is to keep a low profile, do what I can from here and let others take charge, that way nobody will get hurt, after all this is about Mum and Dad, not me or anyone else.

Today I have been thinking about Mum, quietly at home, with no one about, just me and my memories. I have cried and laughed, planned for the future and conversed with numerous family members who want to be there. The death of a loved one can cause rifts in families where there were none and I am aware of my place within this process now. I need to spend however long it takes, reflecting on the passing of a beautiful lady, who I was proud to call Mum, she was a massive part of my life and will continue to be. As my focus changes to saying goodbye, I look forward once again to retreating to the fringes of family life, which tends to suit me best. Being there for Dad now and in the future, quietly in the background when I am needed is my choice and as Dad recovers from the trauma of loss, all of us can learn the lessons of life, and live it to the full!

Yesterday was a day of mixed feelings; in the morning I attended the Christening of my Cousin Thomas, at St Patrick's Roman Catholic Church on Hayling Island. It was wonderful being a part of such a special occasion, attended by family and friends. In the past I have avoided such events, preferring to mark such milestones privately, keeping myself, very much to myself. In 2019 my life has changed much and I am now a part of our large, growing family, in a way I wasn't before.

I would like to take this opportunity to wish my Cousin Emmy, Partner Ben and their son Thomas, lots of love for the future. Thomas is a lovely young boy, who is always a joy to be around. With Ben's daughter Helena, their family is now complete!

Whilst driving to the church, I received a phone call from my Father; Mum had been rushed to Queen Alexandra Hospital in Portsmouth, after suffering from a massive heart attack, on top of everything else she has suffered in  life. I was left shattered and in a quandary about what I should do - go to the church or straight to the hospital. I chose to continue to the church and celebrate one of our families newest members before leaving for the hospital.

The service lasted two hours, after which we headed back to a local hotel. I spent fifteen minutes saying my goodbyes and left for QA Hospital. I was greeted by my Father and Brother, who I rarely see these days. As siblings my Brother and I never really got on and mine and his life went in very different directions. Neither of us are about to bite the bullet and forget the past, so we tend to just tolerate one another on such days. We were polite enough and along with my Father discussed Mum's failing health, as we have done many times before.

The Doctors kept us informed of Mum's situation from the moment I arrived. After the first chat with the consultant, we were under no illusion, that Mum's chances of survival were slim. She had suffered a big heart attack and they were fighting against the clock, doing everything they could to get her well. On arrival the A&E team tried to insert a stent into Mum's artery, without success. The vein was too furred up and as the Doctor said, it was like trying to drill through rock - impossible! We were assured they were doing as much as possible, to stabalise Mum and bring her blood pressure up to normal levels.

Mum was lucid and able to talk, although the strong painkillers kept kicking in intermittently and Mum would drift in and out of consciousness. We were all aware of the amount of pain Mum was in, although unsure why. I have never seen Mum suffer so much. Normally she has a very high pain threshold. After years of injecting insulin and three limb amputations, there isn't a lot Mum hasn't experienced, but somehow this discomfort was worse than any of the above. It was upsetting for all of us, seeing Mother in this state, but we know just what a fighter and battler she is and if anyone can overcome adversity, she can.

After spending four hours with Mum, I left for home, phoning my Aunt and Uncle to let them know of the situation and explained that the Doctor in charge had expressed his concern at the gravity of the situation she was facing. All of us were unsure why Mum was in so much agony, but it certainly didn't sound good and we were all expecting the worse.

Today I have been in constant contact with my Father and the hospital. Mum's health continues to suffer and the prognosis has changed from positive, to grave and as I write a little more positive again. It seems the heart attack has caused a lot of damage internally  that the Doctors are trying to reverse, but the heart itself seems to be recovering well and working as it should. The messages and health updates have been rather confused at times, but we know Mum is in safe hands and the wonderful Cardiac team at Queen Alexandra Hospital are working hard to save Mum's life!

'Nary, our host at breakfast is a delight, although the language barrier brings its own challenges, she is accommodating and charming. Tomorrow, my Aunt and I hope to get our eggs cooked, just the way we want them!'

Sat on the veranda of this French colonial hotel, fan oscillating gently, in the morning breeze, I am struck by the faded grandeur that surrounds me. The breakfast room, to the left of our table, is richly decorated and beautifully presented. Like Nary all the staff are well dressed and very attentive, everyone doing their best to speak English and make us feel comfortable, as we sip our fresh orange juice and eat our Cambodian breakfast.  Sitting in this hotel I feel relaxed, chilling in a setting perfect for enjoying some much needed 'me time,' concentrating on nothing more than the tropical gardens surrounding this stunning hotel!

At 9am my Aunt and I met Thomas, our tuk tuk driver from yesterday, a few yards down the road from our hotel. He was taking us to one of the greatest wonders of the World, Angkor Wat. According to Thomas, there are nearly three hundred temples in the complex and it would be impossible to see all of them in one day. This 12th century Cambodian landmark, was the reason my Aunt and I chose to come to Cambodia and it was something I was looking forward to seeing.

At at cost of $37 US, the day pass isn't cheap, but as anyone who has been to Angkor Wat knows, this is the highlight of any visit. These amazing religious monoliths, magnificent in their majesty are a testimony to mans ingenuity and ability to create the impossible. To be honest I really didn't know what to expect; photographs and videos from the internet never really do justice to places like this, so I was anticipating something spectacular and I wasn't disappointed!

The first and largest temple we visited called 'Angkor Wat' was truly awe inspiring. I have never seen anything like it, it was a deeply humbling experience. As we drove up to the entrance we were greeted by thousands and thousands of people, all heading towards a long temporary  pier like structure connecting us with this Hindu, now Buddhist monument. This first temple is situated in the middle of a large man made lake, surrounded by water. The usual walkway is no longer accessible, having been closed due to crumbling stone, no longer fit for purpose and we joined the long queue of pilgrims, all heading towards the walls of this building and the inner sanctum beyond.

The heat of the day was scorching, as we walked through the tall archway and the buildings inside. We were welcomed by open grounds, trees, vegetation and the wonderful symmetrical facade of the main temple itself. Dotted around were smaller, but no less magnificent stone buildings, surrounded by crowds trying to get the best picture. Unable to appreciate their full beauty, because of the sheer numbers of people, we joined the long line of visitors heading to the religious heart of the complex.

The architecture contained within the interior fabric of the Khmer temple was astonishing, bewildering and surprising. I remember looking up towards the sky, the structure shimmering around me, tall, powerful and a statement to the religion it was built to celebrate. Everywhere one looked, one was bombarded by the might of what is the biggest religious complex in the World. I was witnessing history, touching stone nearly a thousand years old and for the most part left open mouthed at the resplendence around me. I had never seen anything so glorious before and would remember this day for the rest of my life!

In every corner and alcove devout buddhists celebrated their faith. Walking back through the temple itself we were welcomed by icons and statues dressed in traditional clothing, offerings of food at their feet, incense burning sweetly and prayers being said. A buddhist monk knelt down, surrounded by a congregation and quietly chanted in an atmosphere that I can only describe as emotional, touching and poignant.

As we left the confines of the chambers inside Angkor Wat, walking outside, I was overcome with the heat that was growing stronger by the minute. Looking at my phone, a warm 36 degrees was recorded and I was left with a little message, from my modern day app, in this ancient place, telling me to keep hydrated. Both of us headed towards some temporary stalls, where water was being sold and consumed as much as we could. My Aunt was feeling a little disorientated as was I, but taking a look back over my shoulder, I was  reverential in my appreciation for this deeply moving place.

We continued on our journey with Thomas in his tuk tuk. There were ancient symbols everywhere, too many to mention. Monuments at the side of the road, one after the other. We stopped briefly to take in the sites. Locals and visitors feeding monkeys sat in trees, a small child with his head bowed low, in front of a statue and tourists eating a packed lunch, sat on the banks of the moat. Angkor Wat is a deeply ingrained part of Cambodian culture, so much so,  that the subjects of this kingdom are proud of its symbolism. The fact this temple complex is pictured on the national flag, is testimony to the importance of its place in Cambodian society and tradition and rightly so!

We continued towards the West gate and Elephant Terrace, with ornate carvings and elephants passing slowly by, then onward to the famous  Ta Prohm at Angkor Thom, used in the filming of 'Tomb Raider.'  This was a part of Angkor Wat I was looking forward to seeing and was delighted to experience it first hand. There was however a touch of disappointment in this most famous of buildings. It was terribly run down, crumbling stone pillars strewn across the grounds and a feeling of decline and decay everywhere one looked. I felt sad at the scene before me and hoped that this dereliction could be reversed.

After a photo opportunity outside the most famous building at Ta Prohm, we left for Siem Reap. As we departed I felt reassured by  sign posts placed around this famous temple, noting impending reconstruction and restoration. It is important that Ta Prohm is preserved for future generations, so they can enjoy the wonders that I witnessed today!

Thomas charged us $30 US for the trip to Angkor Wat and we tipped him $10 US on top. He was rather pushy for want of a better word, trying to get us to go on another trip with him the next day. Like all tuk tuk drivers, he has a family to feed, needing the work during the less lucrative spring months. We told him we would not be using him the day after which he took rather personally as we found out the next day. I would choose your tour guide wisely and don't give in to unreasonable demands for sympathy. Thomas was a great driver, but he wasn't the person we thought he was.

Our four hour expedition to the temples was exhausting, the weather was hot and we were glad to be heading back to our hotel. The only downside to this trip was the amount of people at Angkor Wat, it did ruin the experience in many respects. However as we later discovered, this was a national holiday, all part of the King of Cambodia's Birthday and there were a lot more people out and about than usual. Angkor Wat was unforgettable; this would be a place I would love to visit again one day, until then, I do at least have the memories to take with me!

We had a delicious lunch at Viva, near Pub Street, a Khmer and Mexican restaurant -  The food was delicious. As I sat there looking across the street, I saw a rather large black rat, sitting at the crossing waiting for the cars to stop, before crossing. This was an intelligent rat, who clearly knew his way around the streets of Siem Reap and a reminder that we were in a country far removed from home. Keeping our wits about us, was essential; any slip up, eating in the wrong place or using the local public conveniences could have cost us dear; luckily we followed the rules!

In the evening we headed back to Pub Street, sitting in the now vibrant district having a few beers, dodging kamikaze insects. Pub Street was alive with tourists and locals selling spiders and snakes, deep fried on sticks. After deliberating for a bit, we decided against trying the local delicacy. This was one side of Cambodia I wanted to avoid. According to the street vendor they tasted like peanuts with a similar texture; this just put me off even more. Even the poor woman in this photo looks distressed at what she is about to eat and who can blame her. For Cambodians however, this is good honest street food, full of protein and part of the Cambodian diet, especially with meat being so expensive....Who am I to judge!

....and finally, to end another amazing day a trip to Miss Wongs, a local gay venue in the centre of Siem Reap. I had read about this restaurant and bar in a guide before we travelled and was aware of more or less where it was; after half hour or so we found this stunning sophisticated locale. The decor, although rather garish oozed elegance and refinement. Plush leather seats, rich red coloured walls, gold leaf and chandeliers adorned this small select location. I felt at home, sat looking through the doors, towards the street outside, drinking a Miss Wong Punch and nibbling on some Cambodian noodles. This was my kind of place, a little more expensive than Pub Street, but so much more relaxed and polished, a great 'mise en scène' to end our day!