Day 7 Manchester to Kefalonia

5am is an unruly time to awake. But as is always with me the fear of oversleeping keeps my subconscious on Defcon4. My body refuses to rest. My mind refuses to stop and all my stresses and strains spin around my head my head like New Zealand’s commonwealth team at the velodrome. 2.30… 3am… 3.20…

Finally I arise at 4.10, and 5am now feels like an enticing lie in. I head to the bathroom, pack up the last of my gear and shortly after 5amwe’re speeding toward Manchester Airport.

28^oCin Kefalonia. What a beautiful temperature. Cheryl’s booked a coach trip to get us to the village where we are staying. There has been much mocking, that we’ll be on a crowded, stuffy bus for hours longer than we need.

We are all pleasantly surprised that not only do we have the coach to ourselves but its air-conditioned and rather roomy too.

My Dad is waiting for us at the villa. He’s in the pool, very happy to see us all. The afternoon is “wasted away” by drinks and ice-cream at the poolside, lots of splashing and laughing in the water. It really is good to see everyone together.

Dad and Jeannette have been here for a few times before and they are becoming familiar with a few of the locals… plus this is the start of their third week here.

We are introduced to “Bettie” (Interesting point to note from Cheryl here is that Bettie thought she was MY daughter! Ouch!). She is about 20 and serves the drinks and ice-cream at Nemesis Bar and Restaurant.

Its clear by the familiar conversation that the family’s story of a reunion has been shared and has been greatly anticipated. She’s introduced and tries to remember our names. She’s grown up on the island but she is no local, she moved from Albania with her parents and has lived here for some 16 years. I can totally understand why her family stopped here, on the tip of the EU, its remote and quaint but well resourced and modern in its amenities.

What a beautiful part of the world. The style and age of the villas along with the travernas right on the waterfront is straight out of my imaginings of World War Two Mediterranean Sea. In fact, I’ve heard that its somewhere around here where Nicholas Cage stayed while on location to film “Captain Corelli’s mandolin”. Now that would be worth exploring.

Day 6 Alrewas

There were three in a boat and the little one said...

Went canoodling down the canal today. I’m not really sure it’s a proper word but we’re in inflatable kayaks. I think the term comes from crossing canoeing and noodles (like the ones for water play as apposed to those found in chow mien).

Nicholas and I are going out with Cheryl, Mum, Marcus, Seb and a friend of Seb’s called Tom. We launched three canoes into the canal behind the house. Each canoe holds and adult, a child and a couple of oars. Save for Cheryl’s as Seb and Tom go together. These things are exceptionally stable and highly unlikely to tip over; none the less all the kids have life jackets.

One of the most exciting points in this little adventurette was when we took it in turns to go down the weir. Marcus took Nicholas on the first run. I took Seb and Tom on the second. Then Marcus and I ‘raced’ Nan and Nicholas.  As the short video may indicate a little cheating may be in evidence before Marcus declared us the winners. It may require a photo finish judgment.

On our return trip Marcus and Nicholas travelled together. Marcus did the lion’s share of the “oaring”- as Seb would call it. But there is one rather narrow stretch where laden tree branches overhang the stream. It was while trying to avoid one of those dangling leafests  Marcus accidentally got himself rather badly stung by some nettles hanging out in a nearby reed bed. 

While gallantly trying to steer the canoe away he dug the paddle in a little too deeply and brushed against the nettles. Immediately the pain enflamed his arm and there was nothing to do but collapse into the boat in agony.

Both Marcus and Nicholas called out for assistance and I rather callously called back:

“There’s not much we can do from here. You’ll have to man up and keep paddling.”

There were a few more calls of “I can’t” and “it’s too difficult” but Nicholas took the paddle and ‘oared’ towards Nan and I. By the time they reached us Nan had managed to collect some ‘doc’ leaf.  Marcus applied it to his arm and after a few minutes to recover felt like he could take the oar and feel he can complete the circuit.

I said it as a joke but both boys did, in fact “man up and keep paddling.”

Family portrait

Day 5 Llanbradoch to Alrewas

This water is a LOT colder than I thought

What is so nice about my sister’s place is the sense of community.

Nan, Nicholas and I collected Marcus and Saeb from school, walked through the village and back again. By the time the boys got their togs on there were another four children in the back garden. Apparently, this happens often. A multitude of children hang out in the Creaser’s back garden.

The afternoon was fun packed, with all of them dressed for swimming, jumping in and out of the paddling pool. The boys called to one another to soak the girls with the hosepipe and the girls shrieking in either delight or annoyance. The hosepipe, when it was trained toward the trampoline, was fun too, with everyone either jumping over, running through, or rolling under the jet of water.

After an hour or so had passed everyone was in their towel, wrapped up and drying off, warming back up in the sun.

It was only then that Marcus took it upon himself, grabbing Katie and pushing into the pool, towel and all…

… like any great prankster he scuttled back into the house and cowered in fear of coming back out. Rightly so, it would seem, for the girls were prowling around the garden with filled water guns and buckets, hell bent on revenge.

Once both Cheryl and Mark were back, some hours later, the girls had been home and had returned to play in the pool once again. Marcus had chosen to get dressed and sit with the adults, engaging in the conversation.

The conversation had finally gotten to the retelling of the above mentioned incident. A general consensus being arrived at that I should put Marcus over my shoulder and unceremoniously dump him into the pool.

Not being one to disappoint, this I did, and much to the whoops of delight from the girls. After an initial shock of disbelief Marcus accepted the incident graciously and proceeded to play in the pool for a further 15 minutes, while still fully dressed.

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