Friday 13th

 This is supposed to be a lucky day for the Kiwi family. 

Sometimes.

K got the coffees this morning. His coffee wasn't up to standard. Mine was fine. We sat on the balcony and watched the early morning strollers.

Then we moved from the balcony to the beach. Our usual spot on the beach had been emptied.

What the heck . All the chairs and half the sunbeds had been dragged away into storage. Εεε Όχι δα!

 No way!

There's still 3 weeks till the end of the season and close down.

The lifeguards told us to move down to one end of the beach where the remaining chairs and sunbeds had been put out. 

So we did, along with all the other bathers. It feels as though we are being corralled like a herd of goats.

And then it started blowing. And it blew, an annoying wind which didn't blow up sand storms but buffeted me and whirled around and exhausted me. I hightailed it for the cafeteria and blissful peace.

In the restaurant we were seated behind a group of ladies of a certain age that seem always to come at the same time as we do.

They're the chic brigade. Always beautifully coiffured, fingernails bright red and they invariably wear white. 

K goggled as they filled their beach bags with piles of paper napkins, sachets of salt and paper tablecloths. 

He started making snide remarks and I had to remove him from the vicinity before he had a public blow out.

But WTHell. How many paper napkins can you use. And the paper tablecloths? And salt???

 Γυφταριά. They're worse than gypsies.

These are, or so it seemed, ladies of a certain class. Now I'm not sure which class. 

Tonight is the Eve of the Holy Cross and the little church here is having a late night service. It's 'supposed' to celebrate the discovery of the true cross by St Helen in 326AD. Whatever. It's an important fiesta. K has been fasting for 2 days eating spinach and cuttlefish and mussels and rice. 

Unlike me.