It was always on my bucket list to visit Italy, so when my lovely hubby booked us a week in a really posh hotel, in a room overlooking the gorgeous Lake Como, I was thrilled. The Grand Hotel Menaggio was the height of luxury, with fabulous food, friendly staff and all-in-all, one of the best experiences of my life. A decade later, I still remember the intricate patterns the housemaid made from my nightie – it was beautiful origami, as you can see – the purple rose in the montage below.
It was one of the few holidays we had where we didn’t hire a car, but we discovered another way to travel – by ferry boat. Not the huge, well-equipped car ferries with shops, restaurants and cabins, but more like a bus or train, travelling across water instead of roads. The slow ferries take forever and the fast ferries are quite expensive, but Bri was 65, so the OAP discount was quite good. It got quite chilly – especially going to the extremes (Gravedonga/Como town), and a light jacket was essential. If we were to do it again, we’d consider going one way on the bus.
One of our favourite places to visit was Belaggio, and that and Varenna were linked together with Menaggio by frequent ferry trips. Como town was everything you might expect from a local centre – the market was fun and the Cathedral was awesome. On one day, we were a tad ambitious, doing Villa Monastero (top) in the morning, a quick half, then Castello Di Vezio (bottom). Monastero was beautiful – stunning gardens and a dozen rooms filled with exquisite furniture and artwork. The walk up to the castle was quite challenging, but so worth it for the views, the history, the falcons and especially the ghosts. I have dodgy knees and one of them swelled up to twice the size by the time we walked back down. If we had a do-over we’d do that 1st, then maybe return for Monastero another day. Villa Carlotta would be my 2nd choice – it was pouring when we did it, but there was still plenty to see.
Villa Carlotta would be my 2nd choice – it was pouring when we did it, but there was still plenty to see. Here’s a flavour of our visit:
My first memory of Portugal was sitting for many hours in a queue at Santander ferry port, after an energy-sapping week in the Costa blanca with temperatures in the mid-high 30s. We were in the old Volvo with no air conditioning, while all around us people sat with their engines running making it even hotter and filling the air with noxious fumes. I got chatting someone in a nearby car, and they were returning from Portugal where the temperatures had been above 40°. Can’t imagine why that made us think it might be a good idea to visit. But shortly afterwards, visit we did.
Unfortunately, I didn’t keep many records of our brief stay in Portugal in July 2004, it was only a couple of days in a smart hotel with a fabulous outside dining area and an excellent pool. We travelled the 395 miles from Santander, a journey well over 5 hours, but by then we were in the Land Rover Discovery, with air conditioning and a DVD player to keep the kids happy while Bri drove. Because of the distances involved, and the need to get back up to North Spain, we didn’t venture too far from the Portuguese/Spanish border, certainly nowhere near the Algarve. Two days chilling by the pool was just enough to recharge batteries before the 339-mile/5-hour trek up to Ovio (near Llanes and our beloved Beach of Caves) for a week before returning home on the 24-hour cruise via the notorious Bay of Biscay.
For some reason my memory insists associating this with the time Chris pulled the curtains closed and their bedroom and the whole thing fell down. Poor lad got teased unmercifully for years afterwards. In particular the jibe was don’t pull the curtains in the cabin or you’ll sink the ferry. Talking of being teased unmercifully, which I guess is what families do, I was never allowed to forget one of our visits to Spain when I asked for a cafe au lait instead of a cafe con leche. The waiter frowned, because I guess he heard café ole, and when hubby figured is confusion it became a standing joke. I do remember, however, how similar Spanish and Portuguese were, so if I couldn’t think of the word, or find it in the dictionary, I would try the Spanish word instead.
Back in June, I mentioned playing cards in the commodore lounge – this was a hack we learnt fairly early on. With 2 adults and 3 kids, the normal 4-berth cabin was horribly cramped and no way to spend an entire day. You pay a chunk extra, but for that you get around 3 times the floor space with room for a couple of chairs and a table, a TV with (back then) video player, 4 berths (the girls were small enough to share) a fridge stocked with juice, water and, if memory serves, a couple of lagers, also a breakfast of croissants, bread juice and tea/coffee/chocolate. One of the big benefits was an outside window and access to the commodore lounge – there was no food or drink when we went, but a calm space away from the hoi-polloi. Well worth its weight in gold.
The ships sported several shops, a couple of tiny cinemas, apparently a swimming pool, although we never bothered, and great facilities for kids including a play area with its own cinema and several organised activities throughout the day. They had numerous cafes, and a posh restaurant (booking essential) and at least 3 bars, the main one having a dance floor and providing several acts throughout the evening, almost always ending with a disco after the magic show and band. After a dozen cross-channel ferry crossings, we figured we’d found our sea legs and we ended up doing this 20-hour mini cruise to Spain and back 14 times between 1993 and 2007, and only once can I remember the Bay of Biscay being so choppy it cost me a meal!
Couldn’t not wrap up this football-centric year without a quick look at England’s 2026 World Cup roller-coaster journey. Who’d have predicted the final score of the third-place playoff when England started the 2nd half 4 goals to nil?
But first, here’s a here’s a quick recap of our team’s performance since their first world cup in 1950.
Didn’t Qualify:1974, 1978, 1994 Didn’t reach knockouts: 1950, 1958, 2014 Knock out before Quarterfinals1982, 1998, 2010 Quarterfinals: 1954 (lost 2-4 to Uruguay), 1962 (lost 1-3 to Brazil), 1970 (lost 2-3 to West Germany), 1986 (lost 1-2 to Argentina), 2002 (lost 1-2 to Brazil), 2006 (0-0 lost to Portugal on penalties), 2022 (lost 1-2 to France) Semi-finals: 1990 (1-1 lost to West Germany on penalties) – 4th: lost 1-2 to Italy in bronze playoff 2018 (lost 1-2 to Croatia) – 4th: lost 0-2 to Belgium in bronze playoff 2026 (lost 1-2 to Argentina) – 3rd: beat 6-4 France in bronze playoff Final: 1966 – England’s only World Cup title, defeating West Germany 4-2 at Wembley Interesting quite how many times we lost 2-1. Just saying.
Back to this year – here’s the show so far: Group L: Winners
17 June: England 4-2 Croatia (Dallas)
The Croatia win was the standout: Harry Kane scored twice, with Jude Bellingham and Marcus Rashford also on the scoresheet.
23 June: England 0-0 Ghana (Boston) The Ghana game was a tighter affair, with England held to a goalless draw but staying top of the group.
27 June: Panama 0-2 England (New York) Jude Bellingham broke a frustrating deadlock to put England ahead after 62 minutes, then crossed for Kane to double their advantage with a close-range header five minutes later. It was the England captain’s 11th World Cup goal – taking him one ahead of Gary Lineker, and it put England top of the group.
Knockout stage 1 July – round of 32: England 2-1 DR Congo (Atlanta)
England trailed from the seventh minute, when Brian Cipenga opened the scoring, until the 75th minute when Harry Kane equalised, with the England skipper then blasting a brilliant winner in a dramatic turnaround.
6 July – round of 16: Mexico 2-3 England (Mexico City)
Despite being reduced to 10 men in the 54th minute after Jarell Quansah received a red card, England overcame Mexico’s attempt to reach their first quarter-final in 40 years in front of an enthusiastic home crowd. In a dramatic match at Estadio Azteca, Bellingham scored twice in two minutes, giving England a 2-0 lead, and Mexico pulled one back just before half-time. Harry Kane converted a penalty to restore the two-goal advantage, and Mexico won a penalty nine minutes later. Mexico had strong possession (67%) and created chances, but England’s resilience and defensive organization held firm to secure progression to the quarterfinals.
11 July – quarter-finals: Norway 1-2 England, aet (Miami)
Norway seized the initiative from the start with Erling Haaland’s header straight at Jordan Pickford, and Schjelderup put Norway ahead in the 36th minute. The Three Lions weathered a wave of pressure before levelling in first-half stoppage time through Bellingham’s driving run and cool finish. Harry Kane had the ball in the net moments later, but the goal was ruled out for offside.
15 July – semi-final: England 1-2 Argentina (Atlanta)
This eagerly-awaited revival of one of international football’s great rivalries ended with a repeat of the scoreline in the teams’ most famous encounter in Mexico City 40 years ago. One report called the start of the match feisty, cagey and intensely contested, but I thought it was boring with dirty tactics and constant fouling, with the ref only calling a fraction of the Argentinian ones. Very telling that neither side produced an attempt on goal until the 33rd minute, giving a goal-less first half. Ten minutes into the second, Gordon slid a cheeky goal from a Rogers cross followed seconds later by a goal-saving tackle from Spence, stopping Messi in his tracks. The pressure from Argentina was never-ending, and inevitably they scored – 5 minutes before the end, and again, two minutes into add-on time. But most significant was the behaviour of the two teams at the end – few smiles and the handshakes were grudging and few and far between.
18 July – third place play-off: France 4-6 England (Miami)
Chalk and cheese are like identical twins compared to the difference between this match and the last one. Right from the get-go, the interactions were sportsmanlike, the tackles legitimate and the fouling clean (if such a thing is possible) and almost gentlemanly. In the highest scoring third round match ever, Saka gave us a world cup hat-trick including a proper tricksy penalty. Here’s the Fifa report:
France goals: Mbappe (48 & 66), Barcola (54), Ousmane Dembele (90+6) England goals: Rice (3), Konsa (18), Saka (37, 45+1 & pen 87), Bellingham (90+8) England overcame France in the ultimate game of two halves in the bronze final of the FIFA World Cup 2026. Bukayo Saka hit a hat-trick and Jude Bellingham finally put an end to a comeback Kylian Mbappe had heroically inspired at Miami Stadium. England annihilated France in the first half. Declan Rice stylishly struck home the opener from outside the box and, after Saka had a goal ruled out for offside, Ezri Kosna made it two. Saka then bagged a quick-fire brace to send Thomas Tuchel’s team in 4-0 up at the break. Michael Olise’s pass enabled Kylian Mbappe to get them on the board, and the Real Madrid forward set up Bradley Barcola to further decrease the deficit. Mbappe then pulled Les Bleus within one, before Olise came narrowly close to rounding off a breathtaking team move and equalising. The Three Lions were under extreme pressure, but Saka gave them breathing space from the spot after Malo Gusto had tripped Djed Spence. It appeared to finally extinguish the comeback, only for Ousmane Dembele to get France within one again. England’s player of the tournament had the final say, though, Bellingham dribbling past multiple bodies to seal victory in one of the greatest matches the World Cup has ever seen. It was England’s best finish at the global finals since they triumphed on home soil in 1966.
Post script As so many have said – Sunday’s final was a total anticlimax. Spain gave it everything they had and those dirty argies, who didn’t even manage a single shot on target and thoroughly disgraced themselves with the wrangling after the final whistle. As my son said, never has there been a more hated team at the world cup, and the whole world enjoyed the schadenfreude of their defeat at the hands (feet) of the Spaniards who more than deserved the win.
Bit of a break from the holiday reminiscences – mainly because today was spent down south at my fabulous daughter-in-law’s baby shower, then a mad dash up the M40, arriving home just as the England-Norway game began – more about that later.
Yep, finally gonna have a grandchild, making me Granny Gray. And her choice? Well hers and Chris’s, really – it’s all about the name. They’ve shortlisted two, but won’t choose till she’s born – several weeks to wait yet.
Meanwhile, Hazel and Emily worked incredibly hard to provide a wonderful afternoon, aided and abetted by glorious sunny weather (there was stacks of shade for those who were wilting after so many days of intense heat).
First task was to decorate wooden cuboids with coloured pens for a set of building blocks. As usual, Ilva’s cube put the rest of us to shame – so-oo professional.
A wonderful selection of sarnies, wraps and sushi alongside sausage rolls, tortilla chips and cous-cous. Followed by a platter of chocolate goodies, fruit kebabs and a slice of this gorgeous 3-layer cake. But most remarkable was the sheer amount of zero-alcohol prosecco and beer. Even those who weren’t driving couldn’t drink for various reasons. Shocker!
Other tasks included creating a hot-air balloon from fingerprints, decorating vests for the baby, and making predictions about the baby’s due date, time, name etc. We also had to sign the guestbook with a message for Sophia. In amongst this, she opened the gifts with so many cute outfits and gadgets including a thermometer rubber duck and a baby mani-pedi grooming set.
All in all, it was a wonderful afternoon and everyone had a great time, so much so it overran by half an hour. Massive thanks to Hazel and Emily.
As for the little matter of that football match – I’m just pleased as punch about the justice of Norway’s disallowed goal after the dodgy offside decision against England’s second goal. That rarely happens. Good result for us, but can’t help feeling it could have gone either way.
We didn’t discover Spain until 96, and in the dozen years until 2007, we only missed two years in Spain (North and Middle), but sadly haven’t been back since. 1998 saw us France’s Green Venice and in 2005, we spent our August week in Ireland – more about that in a few weeks’ time. In all those years, we only braved the nonsense that is Benidorm once – a quick ice cream while we cringed at the Brits packed onto the beach like sardines, then we crept back to our relatively unspoiled bit of the coast. The Elephant mountain was what we saw when we drove anywhere from the villa in Jesus Pobre (11 miles north west of Moriara) where we stayed for the last visit in 2007.
Somewhere between Alicante and Valencia was our most visited area. So many awesome villas, all with pools, kept us going back again and again. Our first taste in 1996 saw us in a beautiful villa with fabulous views of Calpe’s Penyal d’Ifac – a gigantic limestone rock, 332 metres high, one of the most recognisable landscapes of the Spanish east coast. The second time in 1999, was in Norte Mar – a truly spectacular villa as you can see from the pictures. That year, Jo’s school tasked each child with finding the most unusual place to photograph their school tie, and if you look hard among the Flamenco dancers, you’ll spot her wearing said tie.
The first two right-hand photos give a flavour of how much time we spent in the pool. The top one shows Jo tipping Bri off a flotation device – one of the favourite games. I chose the middle one because Bri’s photography skills know no bounds. How he captured my dive is a feat of split-second timing.
Ditto with the bottom piccy on the left – to get all 3 jumping into the pool – phenomenal. Next to it is a peek at the fabulous surroundings of the villa in Havea (8 miles north of Moraira) from 2001.
Crazy Frog
Back in 1996, Moraira was a burgeoning tourist destination with lots of construction in and around the town centre. On a patch of what we’d consider waste ground, a small fair had set up and we had our first taste of the “Crazy Frog” – a ride like no other. From the centre, around 10 spokes radiated, each holding a car for 3 people. At first, we thought it was merely going to zoom around on the ground, but then the cars lifted independently of each other. So you had up-and-down and round and round. Pretty standard you say, but he dialled it up a notch, with the old scream-if-you-want-to-go-faster routine. Then it slowed down and bounced the cars up and down for a couple of circuits. And just when you thought it was ending, the whole cycle was repeated – but going backwards. Defo not for the faint-hearted, nor for those without good sea legs.
Handbag City Aka Gata de Gorgos
This picturesque village, several miles inland, boasts one of the most densely packed streets of souvenir shops – similar to the main drag in Mont St Michel in North France. Shop after shop sports their wares from the town’s legendary industries making, not just wicker baskets, but a myriad of utensils made from woven rush, palm or the indigenous esparto grass. They also produce Spanish guitars and straw hats, made here since ancient times. We loved this place and always did our souvenir shopping here.
Our first impression of North Spain was it felt an awful lot like Wales (mountains, beaches and lush greenery) but with heat. Our favourite patch was the Asturias, between Ribadesella and Llanes, about an hour’s drive west of Santander. Our last visit was made memorable by the wildlife – we saw a scorpion and a tarantula. At least, I think it was, but it could have been a very large, extremely hairy arachnid – anything bigger than a money spider is monstrous as far as Jo’s concerned.
I have great memories of this villa (bottom left above) with the cute balcony, particularly lying on the grass watching the stars – the almost total lack of light pollution meant we saw way more stars than we ever do over here. Like a hundred times more. And I couldn’t get over the idea of having mountains on one side of the road and beaches on the other. I remember jogging up to the top of the ridge behind the villa and finding a huge, Dolmen-sized rock, which became my daily route. And you could see it from the road. The bottom right piccy above was one Jo used as a basis for one of her art GCSE pieces. It now hangs in our bedroom – proud mum or what?
Beach of Caves (Playa de Cuevas del Mar) About a dozen miles west of Llanes, we returned here day after day, year after year. Apart from exploring the caves, which was a big draw, it had one of the safest coves, deep enough to swim in (when the tide was in), but shallow enough that even Stephie (who was only 4) could paddle safely without fear of the crashing waves. Being me, a favourite challenge was to swim through the gap in the rocks, which I did many times. Only once did I get caught – the tide was going out rapidly and a bunch of local lads were daring each other to attempt it, but they were all too scared. With my “I’ll show you English courage” head on, I stalked past them and swam through. It was a tad choppy, and when I emerged, both knees were bleeding from being dashed against the rocks. Still have the scars today, but in retrospect, there’s nothing funny or clever about a 40-yr-old woman dripping blood all over the beach.
So many of our holidays began on Brittany ferries, and we spent many a happy hour playing cards in the Commodore Lounge, having sussed early on what a different experience you could have by paying a little extra. I love this first photo, showing how protective Chris was of Jo.
Lake District The one and only time we stayed in Limousin (somewhere between Limoges and Clermont-Ferrand if memory serves), I remember it being perpetually muggy and close. Although totally land-locked, we did visit the beach of a huge lake and hired pedalos.
Atlantic Coast 1991 saw us near Biarritz, and my enduring memory is of the sand dunes at Arcachon. It was ambitious to say the least, starting in Brittany, and ending in the Loire. The trusty Volvo had no air-con, but luckily this was all in May, so it wasn’t too terribly hot.
One of our first holidays with a pool was somewhat further north near Royan in 1992 with 2-year-old Jo looking cute as a button, and a handsome Chris shortly before his 4th birthday.
Mediterranean Coast In 1993, 4 & 5, we took the 24-hour ferry cruise to North Spain (Santander), then took a few days to travel across to a gite in the region of Var, spending a week there before driving up to Paris (in a day) to stay in a Disneyland hotel and visit the park.
We have several videos of Jo singing “Look at this stuff,” from the Little Mermaid, and the crocodile was an essential pool/beach toy.
The gite in Flayosc was memorable for Stephie’s first steps, and the bottom right photo is hanging up in our hall – one of my favourites ever.
Lourdes
This place was something else – we found a cool hotel with a family room for all five of us and a balcony overlooking the town, which although choc-a-block full of tacky souvenir shops, had a certain charm. At least once we visited the Sanctuary of Our Lady of Lourdes, staying for a mass and doing the whole tourist bit of queueing to walk past the grotto.
But the take home for me was the amazing water – each time we brought more containers. Over five years later, we found a bottle buried in the spare wheel compartment, and the water was still as cool and clear as when we collected it. Truly magical!
Al-fresco dining One of the joys of self-catering holidays was siting down to dinner in the outside dining area provided by almost all of the French Gites and Spanish Villas. We would go to town with exotic meals and we have many photos of us sitting down to lavish meals. Another Gray custom was wherever we stayed we’d have a bowl of fresh fruit – quite often purloined from the one provided in the commodore cabin.
We spent many October half-terms in gites in the Loire valley when the kids were growing up, and it’s the place I hanker after most when our ability to travel is restricted. Unfortunately, I didn’t keep detailed records of all the places we visited, but a quick tot up says there were at least a dozen, one of which was in the grounds of a small Chateau. I have vivid memories of many fabulous holiday homes with exposed beams, log fires, and semi-wild gardens. I would always find a circuit for a daily jog of at least a couple of miles, and quite often there was a local farm shop where we could buy fresh eggs, milk and cheese to accompany our favourite dish: tarte aux champignons.
We must have visited over a dozen chateaux, including the ones which feature in many of the top lists, i.e. Chenonceau, Chambord, Azay-le-Rideau, Villandry and Ussé. Saumur Gets a special mention, because it’s twinned with Warwick, where I spent a decade in a house whose garden backed on to the castle grounds. One of the most memorable sheets was in a small town called Pallau-sur-indre, and we booked the same place in 2007 and 8. In particular, at the bottom of the garden was a small cave, which linked up with a network of caves which ram underneath the castle. The first time we went we were not really equipped to explore too far, so on the second time we made sure we had powerful torches. Despite the numbers painted on the walls in various different colours, it was extremely Easy to get lost and the girls stayed outside, anxiously waiting for us to return.
The most recent trip was October 2019, staying just outside Angers, where we celebrated my 60th birthday: We visited the Caves Grenelle at Saumur for a wonderful guided tour and wine sampling. The moment we parked the car, the heavens opened with torrential rain oh biblical proportions bouncing off the courtyard so we were soaked by the time we reached the lobby. However by the time we had to go outside, it had stopped. We were so impressed, we bought home two cases of their wines, including several sparkling reds. Now we’re able to travel again this is my first destination to stock up on some more.
Green Venice
Many of the villages we’ve stayed, particularly in France, are situated on a river. Bri’s always had a fascination with boats and has piloted every type you can imagine from pedalos & punts to swanky speed boats. So in 1998, when we stayed near la Rochelle, we had several trips out in boats, as you can see from the pix. The top left shows one of the daily practices which soon became a tradition – a stroll to the boulangerie for the daily baguette.
Oradour-sur-Glane
I have mixed feelings about recommending this place, it’s possibly one of the most harrowing experiences, and the atmosphere hits you as soon as you step out of the car. In a cruel and heartless retribution, four days after D-day, a 200-strong panzer division rounded up all the women and children in this village in the church, and all the men in barns and sheds. The soldiers set fire to every single building in the place, and those attempting to escape were machine-gunned.
The entire village has been preserved as a monument to the 642 people who died – definitely not for the faint hearted. Most moving for me was the lone vehicle believed to be the doctor’s car. He had arrived back in Oradour from visiting a patient whilst the round-up of the villagers was taking place. He parked his car and joined his father, the mayor, in waiting to see what was going to happen. This view is one of the best known of all the images of Oradour, symbolising as it does, a frozen instant of time.
My first experience of France, was a family trip to Brittany in summer after finishing my a levels. Grateful to discover I had reasonably good sea legs on the ferry, I joined in with fascination as we discovered warm seas, stunning sights and scrummy crepes. I was particularly taken with the fortified island in Concarneau and the standing stones at Carnac. One of my takeaways, however, involved a British couple on the ferry home who declared their loathing of the French pancakes, calling them creepies. Nowt as queer as folk!
So with a toddler and a six-month-old, hubby and I ventured back to Brittany, staying in a fabulous gite with a pool table, which we returned to one year later. We were truly bitten by the explorer bug, but one of our excursions, seeking a place known as Merlin’s Tomb in Paimpont forest, our trusty Volvo ended up in a ditch. Both being engineers, we returned To the site and borrowed enough logs (conveniently lying around), to lift the tyre out of a ditch. On returning them, we gave copious thanks to Merlin – it truly was a magical experience.
Normandy
We enjoyed our first trip, in October 2000, so much, we returned three more times in that decade. We also popped over to Caen in November 2017 for my daughter’s birthday – she was working in Paris at the time. The big pulls for us were the Bayeux tapestry, the Normandy landing beaches, and the jewel in the crown: the Mont St Michel. There’s something truly magical about the narrow, cobbled streets which wend their way around the island up to the abbey of Saint Michael at the summit. It seems every square inch of the island is devoted to tourism, with wall-to-wall hotels, restaurants, cafes and souvenir shops. We returned there several times, the most recent included a two-night stay in La Mere Poulard to celebrate my 60th birthday.
That visit coincided with the 80th anniversary of start WWII, so there were a stack of related events around the patch.
The previous year (2018) was the 100th anniversary of end WWI, so I organised a trip for Dad and I to visit a bunch of salient sites, including a trip following the Somme for dozens of miles. We toured several war memorials and museums, including the Wellington tunnels at Arras – well worth a visit.
But even more memorable for me were the tunnels at Bouzincourt – we were lucky to get a private viewing and, without all the safety features, it was much closer to the experience the men would have had.
In light of the recent UK heatwave – rarer on a bank holiday than unicorn droppings, let alone hen’s teeth – I thought I’d revisit some of our awesome holiday destinations. Any excuse to look through the holiday pix. As it happens, I’m currently having great fun remembering some of the fabulous experiences on Greek islands, many of which my characters get to share. Well they do say write about what you know about! Some of them feature in Helen’s Hazard, and yet more are in Janet’s Jeopardy, the 5th in the Calamity Chicks series, the one I’m writing right now. At least I will be as soon as I finish this post.
The first holiday with my wonderful hubby was in September 1985 on the fabulous island of Rodos (Rhodes), when we stayed in a wonderful, traffic-free village, Lindos. This made a huge impression on me, in particular the establishment, “Lindos by Night,” a fabulous bar set on four floors with phenomenal views over the village and especially the acropolis. With it being our first foreign holiday, we hadn’t hired a car, and Bri hadn’t taken his driver’s licence, so the most we could hire on my provisional licence was a motorbike. Thankfully, he was an experienced rider, and we explored a few nearby villages, to add to the couple of coach tours we’d taken.
The most memorable being the valley of the butterflies (Petaloudes), where we walked along the serene paths, surrounded by waterfalls, streams, and the gentle murmur of water.
May 1986 Plakias, Kriti (Crete) We definitely upped our game this time, hiring a car to tour the largest of the greek islands. Being us, we liked to explore well off the beaten track and one of my strongest memories was of going indigenous in a tiny restaurant up in the hills. Although the sign said it was a taverna, but we felt like we’d stepped into someone’s dining room. The hostess didn’t speak a word of English, so she took us into the back kitchen and showed us a couple of pans bubbling on the sove – what looked like a beef stew and rice. Except the rice turned out to be soggy, oily pasta. Unfortunately, I made the mistake of complimenting the food in my limited Greek, and she was so pleased she brought out a tin of what looked like bakewell tartlets. Unfortunate because the one I chose had several parches of blue green mould. But I couldn’t exactly refuse it after her generosity. And like the specks of mould on bread, it did me no harm. The best takeaway was the off-the-cuff proposal, and for some crazy reason we set the date for 27th September – a mere six months hence.
Sept 1986 Sidari, Kerkira (Corfu) The first day we arrived, there had been a thunderstorm which knocked out all the power and water in the accommodation. Which turned out to be a long stone building split into rooms by flimsy partitions which didn’t reach all the way to the floor. Not exactly the level of privacy you’d want for a honeymoon. Thankfully, the services were back on by the second day and the people next to us left the day after that. The top couple of pix show the famous “Canal D’Amour” in Sidari (the tiny northern village we stayed in). Legend had it that if a maiden swam through there, she would find the man of her dreams. Nowadays, they say if a couple swim through it together, they will find true love. Either way, it worked its magic!
Sept 1987 Rethymnon, Kriti (Crete) This time, we stayed in a village due north of the previous lodgings, although we did get down to Plakias, spending the day revisiting old haunts, and a memorably evening on the beach. We also returned to complete the full walk through the Samaria Gorge (left) via a coach trip. Nothing tasted so good as that first sip of beer after walking 13 km through a picturesque rift. The following year saw our first addition to the family, a beautiful, bouncing son whose arrival on July 23rd meant he would have been created during this holiday. It’s no coincidence we gave him a Greek name – Christopher, meaning bearer of Christ.
September 2020, Kerkira (Corfu) Driving a hire car in amongst those crazy Greek accidents-waiting-to-happen wasn’t the most conducive to peace and serenity, but it did allow us to revisit some old haunts. On the east, we visited the Durrell’s “White House,” but no sign of Keeley Hawes. A flying drive through Kassiopi where there was nowhere obvious to park for the Byzantine Castle, then a disappointment on the western Logas where the magnificent view of the sunset from the glass balcony was denied us – closed due to COVID. We had undivided attention and a marvellous gyro (donner kebab) at a Pitta place, and parked at the bottom of the magnificent Angelocastro. The double/triple hairpin bend on the way out reminded us why we wouldn’t make it to that one either. Unfortunately, modern-day Sidari is way more Benidorm – or “Blackpool with sun.” But the following day, Paleocastritsa felt like coming home – we remembered swimming all the way out to where those rocks meet the horizon on the 4th piccie. We walked up to the monastery, then had a well-earned beer overlooking the picturesque beach. Awesome stuff. Here’s a wee flavour of Corfu 2020.
JRo Author 