Moan, moan, moan

We're a funny old nation aren't we? We're in Corfu for eleven nights, and, as per usual, the grumbling has started.

We can hear it around the pool, in the dining room and on the terrace.  Whispers, nudges, rolling eyes, huddled figures.  Yes, it's the British at their best.

Complaining.

As a nation, generally, we adhere to rules and regulations, but when we're forced to abide by things we don't agree with, we don't like it one bit.  Especially in a foreign country.  We don't like the fact that the pool closes at 6.30 pm - no exceptions.  We hate it that the sun beds on the beach are whisked away at the same time - parasols folded up - gone.  What? I hear them say - we can't lie on the beach until late to catch the last rays of the sun?  But everyone knows that's the best time of the day.  Not too hot, not too cold - just right.  And what - the pool's roped off until ten to nine? We aren't allowed to throw down our towels at silly o'clock to nab the best beds? Never mind, here's the plan - we'll stroll down to breakfast at about quarter to, and lie in wait.

Two days after we arrived, all this had obviously got a bit too much for one particular gentleman, who in a fit of rage, grabbed all the towels off the beach and threw them in a heap.  Last seen running off to the German end of the beach, we never actually found out who it was.  Maybe the sun had got to him that day or he'd just had a hissy fit.  Either way, the rumours on the street are - he won't be allowed back.  Oh dear.  Don't cross the Greeks and especially not during a national crisis.

Seriously, DH and I are having a great time.  We love the Greek family who run our hotel.  They are super-kind and will go to the ends of the earth to make you feel welcome.   We're getting plenty of rest and relaxation and I'm managing to get a bit of writing done in between listening to the various conversations around the pool.

Don't people talk loudly?  Oops, I'm complaining again.

Until next time.

Kim x