10 am
I walk through the rooms of our thatched-roof villa on North Island – everything from beds and bathtubs to light fixtures and door hinges is crafted from local materials; takamake, casuarina and banuas woods; bamboo, sandstone and granite. The teak floors are so smooth that I don't dare wear shoes, and it is a bit unfair to call the bathroom a bathroom. It is more of a second villa with a tub large enough for a party. My daughter, Eugenie, is in the outdoor shower: A waterfall cascades from a log. I'm unsure whether she will ever get out.

11 am
I head down to the Indian Ocean for a dip and am surprised to see an enormous tortoise. It raises its head, albeit only for a moment, as if to nod in the direction I need to go. Upon my return from the beach, I meet the tortoise's family. Eugenie and I offer them mashed bananas. They are displeased, I think, with our lack of imagination.

1:30 pm
Here, nobody cares how or why or when you conduct your day. So, we request to have our lunch on Honeymoon Beach, a stretch of deserted sand reached by a short buggy ride through the forest. Footprints mar our beach! We soon realize that they are only the evidence of the staff that had been there moments before to arrange a lunch of wine, fresh lobster and organic salads.

5:40 pm
We walk to Grande Anse Beach and come across the rustic North Island Sunset Bar. After a show-stopping sunset, the moon showers phantom daylight across the ocean. The path home is covered in snails chattering so loudly we think coconuts are falling – it's snail mating season. Our game is to make it all the way to our villa without crunching a single snail underfoot.

7 pm
Once we are home, we sit and listen to the waves, look at the stars and breathe. This is a tranquil haven from my public life, a place where I feel I am part of the scenery rather than an intruder. The magical and therapeutic powers of North Island will be everlasting.