In which I wish I was half way up a Greek mountain drinking Mythos.
Kalispera, I write this not on a sun kissed beach nor by the pool with a glass of byra in hand but at a desk in darkest Coventry. It is not exactly vacationing in the Ionians, in fact I’m not going to sugarcoat it…it’s an awful feeling that I’m not sitting somewhere warm in the sun.
I’m sure there are those of you reading this thinking “well at least you had a holiday” so as not to upset you further I should tell you something about the island where Captain Corelli fell in love.
I suppose I should then make it clear, there will be no discussion about how the island of the book (or film) compares to real life Kephalonia. I haven’t read it, I’ve had a quick go on Wikipedia but its one of those novels I couldn’t quite get in to. I read a book on the history of maps instead.
In which I spend hours on a coach to the Costa Brava.
I was immensely lucky that as a child I was able to go abroad. My family would save up all year round so that we could all go away for a few weeks to find the sun and this would mean leaving the British Isles for the warmer climes of the Spanish Costas. This is despite the fact that any photons from the sun instantly microwave my skin and I would have to be covered in so much sunscreen I would come back whiter than when I went.
Nowadays my early travels would not be what you would call exotic, nor did we get to our destination in the most glamorous way, but the most important thing was that as a family we could go on holiday. Our parents would save all year round to be able to take us away, and these were some of the best holidays we ever had. Continue reading “Travelogue : Childhood holidays”