Happy landings

Hullo everyone!!

What had started back in May as a planned summer break had been pushed back later and later by The Chap’s school holidays, The Boychild’s summer visitation, The Blonde’s work commitments, my work commitments, and various other plans and activities until we found ourselves pencilling in dates in November. At which point we decided to take advantage of the time of year to flee what would no doubt be a grotty UK autumn and head for some end of season heat. Hence, after long deliberation, our destiny of choice, Cyprus. Of course planning a break a full six months hence also allowed The Blonde to take full advantage of my usual short termist strategy. “Four hour plane trip to sunshine?”, she tempted me. “No problem, I can cope with that” I bravely opined, safe in the knowledge that I wouldn’t have to endure it for weeks and weeks and weeks, so many weeks in fact that it was irrelevant. The Blonde booked it and so it was settled.

As we step off the plane into the hot dry sunshine my flying anxiety (or more precisely crashing anxiety, I’ve no problem with the actual flying) melts like an abandoned ice cream and we stroll into the cool terminal of Pathos Airport, repatriate ourselves with our luggage and head to the entrance where we’re met by a nice lady who summons up a little man with a big Mercedes to drive us to our hotel.

Downtown Pathos is dry dusty streets flanked by lightly graffiti’d slightly tired white-washed buildings. It feels slightly poor but far from downtrodden, cheap certainly but not tacky. Above all it seems to me to have a very Greek feel to it, odd, since I’ve never been to Greece. We slide smoothly through the suburbs before turning off and aiming for the smarter hotel belt along the beach-front that we saw from the plane. We turn into a large tidy car park bordered by well tended flowerbeds and pull up at the main entrance. Inside the expansive marble laid entrance is cool and quiet and we’re greeted warmly and politely by reception. Upstairs our room, home for the week, is spacious and well cared for, bathroom large and clean. Only a heavy smell of cigarette taints the picture, so we slide open the patio door to let in some fresh air and head out onto the balcony. We’ve got a non sea view room, unwilling to pay a premium when we’re unlikely to be spending much time there, but as it happens we’re on the side of the building and angled seawards and are greeted with a narrow but clear view of the sea, sun already beginning to set over gently waving palm fronds. Bliss.

After unpacking we make our way downstairs to the restaurant. The Blonde rather cleverly negotiated half board for the price of B&B so we’ve evening meals for free. To my delight the neurotic Englishman abroad is well catered for, and whilst The Blonde avails herself of more local fare I acquaint myself with the carvery. Happy days!

Later that evening we take a gentle stroll along the sea front. A still warm breeze gently plays around us as we marvel at being out in shirt sleeves at night in November, taking the evening air. I snap a few atmospheric shots of the hotel and we eventually turn in for the night, 2,500 miles and 20 degrees centigrade away from home.


2 Responses to “Happy landings”

  1. Al Says:

    I’m almost back there! love Al xxxx

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