By the water in Assos
It was only a 15-minute drive from my mother’s house to Manchester airport. A short hop before a longer one to Greece, but the unruly gods of roadworks had other ideas.
A good job we left at 2.30am as the M56 was shut. Yes, that one – the one that goes to the airport. Round and round we looped, sucked into an inescapable diversion without so much as an “Airport This Way” sign.
My wife’s stress levels were driving that car more than the engine and my own anxiety nearly popped the glasses off my nose. A little light swearing was involved.
Eventually we arrived, parked up and dashed to the terminal, trailing suitcases and thoughts of how easily you could miss a flight.
A few hours later, as we prepared to land in Kefalonia, both of us had trouble catching the captain’s announcement thanks to the pressure in our ears.
“Welcome to Deaf-alonia,” I quipped.
Here’s what I think the captain said…
“It’s cloudy out there today and it is raining at the airport. And, yes, that was lightning that struck us a moment ago. Oh, look, there’s another flicker or two. We will have to circle the airport until the rain stops and those clouds clear. With luck we’ll be down before your holiday ends.
“So, this is what it’s going to be like. You’ll love Kefalonia, even if when you arrive the rain will be falling harder than on a bleak Sunday in the Yorkshire Dales. You’ll get soaked just dragging the suitcases from the taxi.
“Later the downpour will lessen enough for you to glimpse an outline of the panorama where you are staying, but at first the view will be hiding, a bit like the sun.
The pool where we stayed
“But the sun will shine and you’ll go out every day, up and down those hills, in and out of the pool. Take it from me, you’ll love Argostoli with its bay and harbour front and cafes where the coffee comes with freshly baked orange cake at no extra cost.
“One morning you’ll spot a turtle turning in the water, and snap a picture just before his agent muscles in.
“You’ll find an ice cream place so good it has to be visited twice, just to make sure. And there’ll be seriousness too in a small museum exhibition about the earthquakes of 1953 that flattened the island. Almost everything you see today was built after the earth shook so cruelly, three times in that one year.
“You’ll book a coach trip to a gigantic cavern where stalactites patiently wait out time like stone icicles, most stolid as, well, a rock, but some curiously unfurling like flags in a breeze, and then it’ll be on to an underground lake.
“You’ll catch a passing glimpse of the beach from Captain Corelli’s Mandolin (great novel, dodgy film, as so many Nicolas Cage films are), after which the valiant driver will thread his giant coach down the zig-zag road that unzips the tiny waterside village of Assos. I’ll tell you this for nothing, getting that coach road those bends with the precipitous drops at either side is a damn sight trickier than flying this plane.
“In Assos, where the earthquake toppled almost everything, you will see grand-looking house fronts still standing, without roof or rooms, like ghosts on the set of a sad film. But many buildings are new, and it’s a lovely spot for lunch on the harbour.
“I’d recommend the griddled whole sea bass and something vegetarian for your wife.
“You’ll also get to also visit upmarket Fiskardo, haunt of the famous in the summer. You won’t spot Johnny Depp, but you will chat to a friendly couple from Eastbourne while having a coffee overlooking the yachts.
“You’ll read three or four books apiece and visit that taverna at the bottom of the hill three times.
“Oh, and your wife will discover that Argostoli has a botanical garden that must be visited. Take her anywhere in the world and that woman can sniff out a garden. If you went to the deepest desert, she’d soon be telling it was open garden weekend at the local mirage.
“Nice garden, though. Enjoy your first proper holiday in a while and thanks for flying with We Must Do This Again Airways…”