PEOPLE are always telling me I cross the line - well last week, I did, literally. The Equator. The Maldivian pilot even gave us all a little certificate.

The Maldives is a geographical joy: it's basically a necklace of 1,192 coral islands, only 200 of which are inhabited, strung across the turquoise Indian Ocean.

The reefs bustle with more than 1,000 species of fish.

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There's more good news. A sign at the airport reads "No Pork Products Allowed", so you're not likely to run into any chauvinist pigs either.

After a 10-hour flight and a short hop on a small plane, I arrived at Shangri-La's five-star Villingili Resort & Spa, set on an island of palm-fringed beaches in a tranquil bay surrounded by coral reef.

When I first arrived blinking into the sunshine, I stumbled around like a newborn field mouse.

I also found myself talking in exclamation marks.

"Wow! Amazing! This luxury villa with private pool and sea views is really all for me?!"

Accommodation ranges from beachfront bungalows to private villas on stilts over the ocean and opulent tropical tree houses.

My initial plan was to just lie supine in my hammock and read inferior fiction.

Two meals later I realised the food - everything from French fine dining to Middle Eastern, Indian and Asian cuisine - was so delectable that the only way not to find myself harpooned by a Japanese whaler was to undertake some exercise.

The watersports instructor suggested scuba diving.

I suggested we save time and call the paramedics in advance.

It was also a "no" to paragliding.

I never want to fly over the ocean, unless accompanied by aviation fuel (and an in-flight movie).

And isn't waterskiing merely the art of drowning with planks of wood on your feet?

Windsurfing seemed the best option.

The practice run on the beach proved easy.

The instructor promised I'd soon be playfully navigating the waves and performing mid-air tricks like a skateboarder.

After some theory, covering wind direction, rig and safety procedures, I waded into the water.

It was only when I had to scramble aboard that I realised windsurfing is all about balance.

I can't even balance a cheque book. After a wobbly hour I still refused to let go of the instructor.

He'd have had to use a blow torch to release my fingers from around his neck. But when a big gust of wind came he finally shoved me off on my maiden voyage.

The noise I emitted when I realised I was sailing solo sounded similar to a rhinoceros being fed into a food processor.

Moments later, with the wind whipping through my hair and my board gliding over the open water, I felt elated.

Except I just kept on accelerating.

Next stop Sri Lanka. My instructor had failed to teach me how to change direction while balled up like a petrified armadillo, screaming. The only solution was to drown my sorrows - literally. I dropped the sail and leapt into the briny.

But no creature gets to be that size by eating seaweed, I thought, as I bobbed around in the water.

Just when I was busy converting to religion, a muscled Adonis scooped me up in his arms.

My instructor was so handsome, I faked catatonia just to get mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

But no bones had been broken so there was no way of avoiding climbing back on the board.

After some more lessons on tacking, I attempted my second solo windsurf and felt much more confident.

There were no more menacing shadows looming in the depths, just sunlight reflected and refracted upwards in millions of silvery shards.

A sense of calm washed over me as I peered down at the silvery fish, anemones and stingrays.

Then my sail went as limp as a perm in a sauna. I was becalmed.

Where was some hot air when I needed it? A copy of Hansard would have done nicely. I puffed at the sail myself, to no avail.

Which could only mean one thing - another rescue from Adonis, and a little more mouth- to-mouth.

They say there are no man-eaters in the Maldives.

They've obviously overlooked the predatory, middle-aged mum, I thought, pouting up.

After a hard day having fun, the spa proved first rate. A beachside massage left me in a velvet torpor.

By day you can snorkel with turtles or go dolphin watching.

The 300-strong pod surfing our bow wave somersaulted out of the water as though on some kind of aquatic crack.

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By night, enjoy a beach barbecue and devour fish such as lobster, red snapper and tuna prepared using locally sourced coconut, papaya and watermelon.

Or dress up for a degustation menu in the French-themed Fashala.

Alternatively, sprawl on cushions in a private, ocean-side pavilion as chefs serve up by candlelight.

Even better is the human menu.

Other guests proved a fascinating mix of Arabic, English, French, American and Asian. And with bike excursions to other islands and sunset cruises, it's easy to mix.

Who needs to go parasailing? In Villingili you'll be so happy, you'll have your own cloud.

THE KNOWLEDGE

Carrier (0161 492 1358/www.carrier.co.uk) offers seven nights at Shangri-La's Villingili Resort & Spa from £3,520pp (two sharing), half board.

Price includes return flights with British Airways (0844 493 0787/www.ba.com/maldives) from Gatwick to Male and resort transfers.

Valid for departures until April 30, 2012.

Maldives Tourism Board (dialling from UK): 00 960 332 3228/www.visitmaldives.com