Yesterday’s site at Poseidon Camping not our cup of tea. No sign of Earl Grey anywhere. With Beastie a five second walk onto the huge sandy beach it still didn’t cut it. Despite carrying out a pre-park foot patrol. Should have turned our noses up at it. Like the couple of upper crusts we’re turning into.
On entry into the shady shanty town, the statics shouted ‘Turn around’. We didn’t listen. Did a Maggie. A skaffolding of gun metal frameworks leaden our hopes. Covered with mould ridden green and blue tarpaulins. All hemmed in. Just like us. Picket fences designate borders. Imploring ‘Cross at your peril’. Many owners busy with high power hoses. Watering away the worst of winter.
Cold showers and poor toilet facilities convince us to move on after just one night. We’re not willing to ‘make do’. It’s beneath us – don’t you know. Zeus and his other gods will just have to do without our company up on Mount Olympus.
With Missy’s co-ordinates set to guide us inland to Meteora’s Monasteries we make an early exit. Intend to make a couple of AM stops on the way. Platamon Castle is well within range – just around the corner in fact.
Much of the huge site subject to archeological digs over the years. One of those places that sets your mind running as you imagine life as it was.
Our second stop of the morning? Lidl! They’re everywhere – thankfully. Not seen a ‘proper supermarket’ yet. Not that Lidl is. Need to re-stock though. We never shop at Lidl back home. Not sure what the till protocol is there. Here, Sur le Continent, it seems speed rules – OK? Checkout girls hired based on being the best clock watcher. A novel idea. A German T&M initiative no doubt. Their bulldozer hands flailing. Think they’re playing shove-h’penny. Impossible to keep up. Matters made worse because ‘the packing area’ is no wider than a radiator shelf. Our trolley load quickly piles up into a jumbled mess. Resembles a train wreck. Carriages spewn everywhere. We need the Fat Controller to come blow his whistle.