We holidayed in the most amazingly child-friendly set of 12 villas where everyone had a young family and it was perfect for us. I'm normally quite stand-offish on holiday, (I've got enough friends remember), but in a place that small it is impossible not to make friends with the other families. Although, unsurprisingly there were the odd one or two who got up my nose. One woman had told four other sets of people around the pool at the top of her voice within the first hour of us being there that she "ran her own business" because "it just wasn't challenging enough working for someone else". She was also reading 'Fifty Shades of Grey', don't get me started again.
Man Utd were playing on the first night of our holiday and I couldn't cope with Stu mooning around looking like a kicked puppy so I selflessly sent him off to the bar whilst I sat on my terrace imbibing Greek wine and reading a decent book. I popped over (it's about 5 metres - don't judge me) to tell him that I was going to bed and found him sitting in the middle of a long line of non-English speaking Greeks all perfectly bonding over the match. Footie is indeed the most universal of languages.
We had the most fabulous neighbours. Our villa was semi-detached and our terrace was adjoined to Diana and Jamie. They were quite a bit older than us but didn't really look or act it. My most horrific hangover of the holiday was when they were on our terrace until 1am drinking until Stu threw them out. Jamie is writing a book and I took great pleasure in tearing it apart and trying to disprove every point he was making. That takes a good few bottles of wine....
I also made friends with a policewoman. When I texted Shelley about this she replied immediately that this was a very bad idea and I should stop talking to her, or stop drinking, or preferably both. Obviously I completely ignored this good advice and in fact invited her (policewoman, not Shell) to dine with us that night. We took them to a restaurant and they were following our car as they didn't know where they were going and I got lost and ended up making them do a U turn in the middle of a busy street in the main town. Ooops. Then there is the dilemma of how much you drink when you are driving and out in a foreign country with the police. I decided to match her husband drink for drink as surely she wouldn't arrest him, would she? I realised I had definitely drunk too much when I told her that this was what I was doing and started fashioning handcuffs out of straws. I'm such a knob-end.
Our toilet in the villa downstairs didn't work properly at first and we kept having to get someone out to fix it. It just happened that when it stopped working it was me that had just used it but that was a complete coincidence. I fell asleep later that day on the sunbed and woke myself up snoring. When I asked my silly husband if I had been snoring for ages, he said that I had and he had left me because it was so hilarious. He then said he was going to stick a sign next to me saying "And she did a poo that blocked the loo!" but thought that might have been a step too far. Romance definitely still exists in our marriage.
Kids Club rocked my world. Monday - Friday for three and half whole hours we were without the little angels. We worked out we could do shopping, swim, sunbathe, shag and a shandy in that time - perfect. I realised that if I indulged my husband in some afternoon delight daily I could then get my preferred room-sharing combination: early risers Zak and Stu together and lazy sods Mummy and Sebi getting up about an hour or so later. Happy families.
There were too many wasps on Lefkas for my liking. I tended to chuck myself in the pool whenever I was suitably dressed, much to the delight of my fellow holidaymakers. Somebody introduced me to the joys of Citronella candles and I bought a load from the mini-market and would not be seen without one at mealtimes. I think I looked slightly like a monk parading to dinner holding a lit candle; albeit a monk in a too short dress showing a non-religious amount of cleavage.
I reckon we might well be returning there next year. Even the airport was civilised. You checked in, then popped across the road to drink wine in a taverna at the end of the runway and when you heard the incoming flight land you toddled back over and got on it. I bloody love Greece.
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