We are all idiosyncratic in some way. All susceptible to react in different ways to certain unwanted stimuli. Some, more able to handle an intruding irritation.
After an uneventful journey, we’re currently pitched up at Ouranoupoli Camping. Just north of Nowomansland. Better known as the Athos Peninsula. A male-only territory with special status. Home to twenty Monasteries. Our rainy arrival not on the expected agenda.
Greece must be home (‘home’ not quite the right word) to millions of stray dogs and cats. A mix of dog and jackal calls – our bedtime serenade. Curiously it’s become our cure. Like an antibody-packed serum. We no longer react quite so adversely. No longer gnash teeth. Like mosquito bitten junglies we’ve become immune. Able to fall asleep. Oblivious to the moonlight marauders. Almost as good as a cup of Horlicks.
On most camp sites at least two cats do the rounds. Searching out the soft-hearted ones – like us. Yesterday, Camping Agiannis supplies more than the usual quota. They cannily creep under Beastie. Bide their time. Suddenly appear with perfect timing. Put on a show of cupboard love. Irresistible. It’s as if they know Mrs S has bought a box of cat biscuits!!
Weirdly, there is no barking as we prepare for bed. It’s just after midnight. All is quiet and peaceful. But not for long. A nocturnal creature sits perched in the tall pine trees above Beastie. Has a sadistic nature. Taught water torture techniques at Guantanamo Bay School. Came top of his class. Decides to put his learning into practise. Teach us what he’s learnt. Non-stop until dawn. Mrs S can vouch for that.
