It's all too much!

A trip home seemed to be much needed. Mrs K was suffering in the heat, marinas were very expensive and socialising was scarce. Mrs K is usually good at keeping her cool but I had detected the odd sign of stress in some of her subtle actions. For instance whilst drying up, just allowing the large chef's knife to linger in her hand. Feeling the weight of the large frying pan in a sort of, 'could this double as a club kind of way, suggesting that rather than taking a  mask and snorkel swimming I might want to take the stern anchor with me. Or after a long and tiring journey back to Blighty and, just as I was about to set off driving to  Hampshire alone, saying "be careful we don't want any accidents you're cooking the Sunday lunch."

A measure of true love and happiness seldom seen in a couple cooped up on a boat together for several months.

Mrs K contemplates a suitable replacement for a husband?

We had returned for a wedding, a visit to Granny M and an 80th birthday holiday with Granddad to Majorca. We needed some more sun.

The trouble with Granddad is he is so serious.

So shopping was called for and Mrs K took me in to Primark 'because I'm worth it.

'

All went well despite the penknife at the airport saga, we hit Majorca with the family. Food, beer and wine prevailed and weight increased. Despite my children's intellectual prowess and their ability to show self restraint I still think there is a genetic link.

Note Mrs K busying herself poolside!

Not just debauchery but some serious activities took place. Walking across mountains, exhausting table tennis tournaments and the canoeing windsurfing missing link activity, paddle boarding. We also had some surprising success in the fishing department.

It was at the final meal that we witnesses something remarkable.

We were at the Coral Restaurant, not as pictured here, but at our other favourite Pollenca restaurant when suddenly there was a screech and a thump, the distinctive sound of a collision. I turned round to see a cyclist spread-eagled on the road and a young man emerging from his now stopped car. He had turned right in to the path of the cyclist who had hit the stern, starboard quarter of the vehicle. I thought 'bugger, we will have to go to the aid of the, surely dying, cyclist before the first course.' But no, said cyclist got up and stood there looking at the driver. My thoughts now changed to 'should we try to prevent the cyclist from beating the driver to death with his bicycle pump?' But no, the driver apologised, the cyclist accepted it, they chatted for a while and hugged before they parted company. Well raise my rent! Could that have happened in Maidstone?

Lovely holiday from all that sailing. We returned to Blighty without a hitch and before we knew it we were back at Stansted and boarding a Ryanair flight back to Lamezia and the good ship Hermy. Although we had a bit of a shock as Hermy was not there. Frantic looking around we spotted her a few places up. Mario explained that Hermy was a small boat in a big space and that he had towed her to her new position. I explained that I could relate to his scenario and we found Hermy in good shape.

 I had learnt a few things on this return trip to England, particularly around how we are all aging, Granddad and Granny M now oxygenairians and both my brothers now in their sixties. Using my great mathematical skills I worked out that, if lucky, I would be 80 in 23 years time which suddenly felt rather near, particularly since Daughter was 24 years old and only a short time ago she was two. 

I decided I needed a plan, a health plan. Life was simply assessed, too much wine and beer, not enough exercise therefore two stone overweight. If I wanted to drink I would have to exercise so I decided that allotted drink days would have to be preceded by exercise. We had arrived back at Vibo Valentia Marina on such an allotted day so I declared that I would run to the supermarket in order to do the replenishing shop and therefore deserve my beer.

I duly set off leaving Mrs K looking up emergency numbers and after a half hearted stretch I jogged off. The supermarket was about a mile away and all seemed surprisingly well. In order to exercise you need a beer incentive. Simple. After dodging a few Italian kamikaze drivers I made it on to a pavement and got in to my stride, or rather lumber. At half a mile I hit 'the wall' or at least I thought so as I smashed head first in to the ground. Someone had put a step in the pavement and moving faster than my brain could take I had tripped, landed and bounced in to a complete heap on the ground. A bit like a felled Rhino. After a loud and very English expletive I dragged myself up and came face to face with an elderly Italian lady. Her expressionless face said nothing but her eyes said "Aren't you too old and fat to be running?" Of course she was right but spurred on by beer I carried on and made it all the way to Conad, breathless and triumphant.

Luckily, if you spend enough, Conad deliver your shopping back to the marina and the nice chap gave me a lift too.

Mrs K inspecting the scene of her husband's crash landing. Notice how she hides her smile.

We decided that since we were at Vibo Valencia Marina we should get the bus to Vibo Valentia town 11 KM away on a hill. We caught a large bus and negotiated the tiniest roads and corners along with the other two passengers and arrived at a somewhat spread out kind of town but with a great castle.

Mrs K made no mention of 'Rubble' and I think her storminess may have passed.

The castle and its archaeological museum was the best part of the town and made the trip worthwhile. The bus journey back only being hampered by the lack of bus stops and when we did find one a bus driver going the opposite way told us we were on the wrong side as it was a circular route. He didn't explain why there was a bus stop on the other side though.

So back to it and to await the arrival of the Bennetts.