The last full day on the island started in much the same chilled way as the others: coffee, breakfast and a bit of packing.

We’d kept our clothes for Split in separate bags. We left out our final-night outfits and clothes for tomorrow, then packed everything else. A surprisingly organised move from us.

But there was no time to be sad—we still had a final day to enjoy.

We headed to the pool party, where two couples had booked a double cabana, and got the drinks in for the day. We were all drinking, chatting about the night before and fucking around in the pool. Just a great morning with great company.

Then came the pool games.

Volunteers had to find people who fitted different categories: a woman they’d played with, someone they’d had an orgy with, someone with a sex toy… That sort of thing. Less “find someone wearing blue,” more “find someone you’ve seen naked.”

Somehow, we all ended up involved. Then we were in teams, demonstrating sex positions—not actually having sex, just posing and having a laugh. Your standard holiday pool entertainment, with a few adjustments.

After the games came the champagne party. Everyone was dancing by the pool when they started showering us in champagne.

Because apparently drinking it wasn’t enough—we needed to be wearing it as well.

Then a rolling orgy started. A term I’ve just invented, but basically a group of us who’d been playing together all week had a massive orgy. People joined in when they wanted and took a break when they needed one.

Never underestimate the need for an orgy break.

At some point, I took a break for a drink and a vape. Except my vape had stopped working and was ridiculously hot. Burning hot.

So I went back to the room to get a replacement.

Now, sometimes in these situations, one partner gets pissed off and storms off. This was absolutely, categorically not one of those occasions. I’d gone to get a vape.

But what should have been a twenty-minute round trip somehow took me fifty minutes. By the time I got back to the pool, Paul was just leaving.

“Is everything okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, I was just coming to look for you. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah… but I went on a side quest.”

My vape had been so hot that I’d started worrying it was faulty and might catch fire if I left it in the tent. So, on the way, I’d thrown it in a bin.

By the time I got back to the tent, I realised how stupid that idea was on a small island full of tents with no fire service.

I’d also forgotten which bin I’d thrown it in.

So, being the responsible human I am, I had to retrace my steps from our room, searching every bin until I found it.

Like a little raccoon.

Eventually, I found the vape, handed it to a responsible adult to dispose of, washed my hands and went back to rejoin the orgy.

A few people asked where I’d been. I repeated the vape story, and they unanimously agreed that sounded on brand for me.

They’d known me for four days, and already this was entirely plausible behaviour.

The orgy went on for hours. It was one of the hottest experiences of my life. Fucking multiple people at the same time, at the side of a party pool in broad daylight, is bucket-list stuff.

Afterwards, Paul and I decided to hang out in the pool with a beer before heading back to the room for a nap. And a burger on the way, obviously.

We got chatting to an American couple who now live in Europe. They were hilarious. I’d say we hadn’t laughed that much in ages, but honestly, the whole holiday had been nonstop fun.

When we got back to the room, we had a nap. Then it was time to get ready for the last night.

And oh my God, what a night.

Every night had been in a different venue, and every party felt completely different. There was none of that “same shit, different day” feeling.

The final night’s theme was cyberpunk.

Now, I don’t know how authentically cyberpunk our costumes were, but we’d managed something vaguely cyberpunk-ish…

Paul had on a black and rainbow kilt and a pair of black wraparound sunglasses.

I was in a metallic purple thong, a chainmail skirt and top from Ann Summers, and some massive early-2000s-style sunglasses with clear grey lenses.

I’d had a pair of the Bvlgari version twenty years ago. These SHEIN knockoffs were considerably cheaper.

I wasn’t feeling great, but it was the last night.

A couple of rums and I’d power through…

Mere Dragon performed again, there was an incredible fireworks display, and the DJ was banging.

Before calling it a night, we decided to head to the playrooms for a final session and see what was going on.

The playrooms were hot and heavy and loads of fun. We watched a BDSM scene in the dungeon, and it was so hot watching the dungeon master do his thing.

After that, we decided a burger and a final beer were needed.

We got chatting to the American couple who live in Europe again, swapping stories—mainly about the chaotic situations I somehow find myself in—and laughing.

“I don’t know why Paul stays married to me sometimes,” I said.

Ten minutes later, I was ready to head back to the room. And I was in a particularly filthy mood.

“Come on, Paul. Do you want to take me home and fuck my arse?”

Asked in the most romantic way that question can possibly be asked.

The American lady said, “And there we have it. You’ve answered your own question.”

“What question?” I asked.

“Why he stays married to you.”

I mean, she does have a point.

We laughed, said goodnight and headed back.

On the way, Paul said, “I have a better idea. Let’s go for a walk.”

It was 2 a.m. There was no lighting, and it was pitch black.

“Where the fuck are we going, Paul?”

“I’ve got an idea…”

After what felt like forever, we reached the south side of the island. There wasn’t another person around, and we’d arrived at an official stargazing point.

“Look up,” he said.

Oh my God. There were so many stars, and a full moon. It was beautiful.

We sat there talking and just being us. It was the perfect end to the last night.

When we got back to the room, I curled up in his arms and went to sleep feeling so content.

That’s my safe place.

The next morning, we woke up and emptied the room. With great sadness, Paul took our cases to the collection point, ready to be taken to the boat.

Everyone dropping off their luggage looked just as sad. I don’t think any of us were ready to leave paradise.

We decided to stop by the beach on the way to breakfast, where we saw Jeff and Sarah. They were catching an earlier fast boat because they had a flight booked. We sat down for a coffee and arranged to meet up back in the UK.

I felt absolutely awful. I thought I was just hungover.

I wasn’t.

At breakfast, we met up with Hank and Britney and talked about how amazing our time had been. We all agreed we’d be booking again for next year, gave each other hugs and then headed to the boat.

We found our cases and loaded them on.

This boat was less party boat and more the boat back to reality.

Once we were off, we booked an Uber straight away. We figured 150 people getting off a boat in a small town could send the prices up pretty quickly.

Next stop: Split.

Now, we’d been really looking forward to Split. Paul and I absolutely love discovering a new city together: finding restaurants and bars, seeing the local sights and just wandering.

That didn’t quite go to plan.

As the Uber ride went on, I felt worse and worse. By the time we reached the apartment, all I could think about was bed.

I wondered whether my vape escapade—nearly an hour wandering around in a tiny thong with no shade—had caught up with me. What I’d thought was a hangover, I was now putting down to sunstroke.

Then we arrived, and I thought, what the hell have I booked?

It was down a tiny alley, and the place looked derelict. But at that point, I didn’t care. I needed a bed. Any bed would do.

We got to our floor, which was behind a keypad, and opened the door.

Inside was a beautiful hallway, and our room was stunning. It was the best surprise.

The original plan had been to drop the cases and go exploring. Paul took one look at me.

“You’re not well. Go to sleep.”

I woke up at about five, and we found food. I couldn’t tell you what I ate or where I ate it, but I had food and went straight back to bed.

I slept until about eleven the next morning.

And God, I needed it.

We had half a day left. I was determined to see some of Split.

We decided to go for a wander, find some food and see where we ended up. We had something to eat and an ice cream, then headed back to the room because Paul didn’t want me out in the afternoon sun.

Our city break had become considerably more horizontal than planned.

And not in the fun way.

When we went back out, we found a local market and decided to have a look. Paul and I love collecting art from the places we visit, and there was a drawing we both liked.

They didn’t take Apple Pay.

“I’ll go back to the room for cash. You stay in the shade,” Paul said.

So I found a bar and ordered a Fanta. I thought if I ordered a beer, I’d be in trouble when he got back.

And not the good kind.

I started talking to a lady in her late fifties at the bar. I will literally talk to anyone if they stand close to me for long enough.

Fifteen minutes later, Paul was back. He bought the picture and joined me.

This woman had such an interesting life. She was a professional chef who’d lived all over the world and worked in Michelin-starred restaurants, and now she lived in Croatia.

We ended up having a good few beers with her and talking about everything.

So much for my sensible Fanta.

Before we left, we asked her where she’d recommend for dinner. She suggested Zinfandel, a place serving Croatian tapas. We said goodbye and headed there.

We shared four small plates: tuna tartare, croquettes, meatballs and a peach and feta salad. And a bottle of Croatian Chardonnay.

The food was out of this world. We never would have found it without her recommendation.

If you’re in Split, go.

Afterwards, we picked up another ice cream and wandered around Diocletian’s Palace before finding a rooftop cocktail bar. A couple of cocktails later, we headed back to bed.

We had an early start. We hadn’t seen as much of Split as we’d have loved to, but we’ll be back next year.

The journey home was fairly uneventful, except I decided to travel in Paul’s shorts and hoodie. I still wasn’t feeling well, and his oversized clothes were considerably more comfortable than anything I’d packed.

We were home in time to pick George up from school.

His face, and the biggest hug, reminded us that even though we get to have the best adventures together, there’s no place like home.