21 Aug 2004 - Crete (Hersonnissos), Greece
Yet another cheap and cheerful resort holiday - this time to Hersonnissos - a resort brimming with Irish running amok, and some crazy but not quite as crazy Scandinavians. I have a definite love/hate relationship with these sort of trips. I love the idea of getting away with my mates to a hot location, eating lunch on the balcony and sitting down with the boys supping a cold beer as the sun is setting. The fight for the shower, mirror and selection of music prior to the evening's fun is actually all a positive experience and goes towards what makes a cheap trip to the sun. It never seems so positive at the time but the memory plays tricks.
What I tend to forget though are the bar touts, shops selling tacky junk, shops selling the world's supplies of towels and crumbling infrastructure held together with grime and layers of posters - not to mention the fields of crickets all chirping away. Actually I quite enjoy hearing the crickets no matter how loud they are but for the light sleepers amongst us they are just another cause for complaint, isn't that right Mr B?
Despite heated and immediate moaning from Nick upon seeing the (poor) quality of the room it was a good trip - well mostly (he had a point I suppose but to me the room is just somewhere to sleep and it was a cheap package trip after all so shouldn't expect much). I had a cold on the last night so refused to go out but unlike most holidays with Pat I managed to keep my body from breaking down and had the stamina to match him with the drinks. Anyway I digress, the room issue nearly made Nick decide to fork out more cash to get a room on his own but didn't in the end. Witnessing how short Bawn's fuse is was amusing, particularly his attitude to the patronising hotel rep who gave his welcome speech as though he were addressing a room of star struck 17 year olds on their dream holiday - not the cynical over 30 year olds that we are.
This holiday also saw Nick live life to his new motto - seizing the day and doing and seeing as much as he could. He even found a gym and went running up hill in the early afternoon heat. I thought that last bit was absolute madness but admire his will to do it - definitely brings to mind a saying though about the sun, midday, Englishmen and mad dogs. For myself, I prize the chance to take time out from busy working life to do very little but to enjoy the things I don't have time to do back at home such as read a book and numerous papers and magazines in the day and to relax in the shade.
As mentioned earlier, Hersonnissos tended to fill with Irish and Scandinavians. This gave a different feel to the pure carnage of the Brits abroad type of resort ie Malia 10 miles down the road. No shortage of bars and touts however but being older and wiser we worked out that the best tactic was to make a couple of bars our regular and get to know the reps. Good business, we helped them do their job of selling drinks but then they also rewarded us with regular and free shots of the strong stuff - not the fruit juice shots being offered to the kids as an enticement to enter the other bars. The bars we made our regular ones were not too busy as this ensured good attention from the reps and their freebies.
Malia I can't even be bothered describing. I've been to too many clones of the place but the night was a good one. Time to be a Brit abroad and go silly. Bawn was a dog with two dicks, I lost my footing on a walkway and mimicked the comic book style of slipping on a banana (but I still kept my drink from spilling). Pat chatted up an ex police woman while I played wingman but hey, what are mates for? Once I had fulfilled my duties to Pat I disappeared and reconnected with Bawn.
Pat continued this romance back in the UK but with her being an ex rozzer with well developed listening and enquiry skills coupled to a good memory, Pat kept getting caught out on things he had said days, even weeks previously. The funny thing was that he wasn't even trying to lie to her! Heh heh, Pat has got to the stage where he doesn't even know when he is fibbing anymore.
The night ended with the with sun just about to come up which was a mighty impressive thing for us so myself and Pat made our return to Hersonnissos. Bawn had gone AWOL, presumed to be sniffing muff somewhere
The next day we heard what had happened. Bawn had indeed stuck lucky and proved to us mockers that spending an hour straightening his hair before going out was time well spent. He went back to the hotel of a young lady only to be told by the hotels owners, "No!" No joy for Mr Bawn then and after an angry exchange of words fuelled by the frustration generated in his leaden sack he had to get a taxi on his own back to the hotel.
Not to be defeated though, while waiting at the taxi rank, My Bawn in true porn film style got chatting to another young lady also returning to her pit. Direct and to the point, Mr B said;
- "Sooooo er, I'm er, kinda horny right now...fancy a...you know...a fu*k"
- "No, erm I'm a little tired"
Quality Mr Bawn, absolute quality. You've got the balls we all lack. It doesn't end there though. Bawn makes his own entertainment and in the taxi the driver was upset with Bawn for some reason and began ranting in Greek. Nick knew a few words though and understood so he just gave it back to him in his own language. Dodgy thing to do when you are alone but he got away with it this time.