This is the view from the coffee shop I blog from, the excellent Gran Sasso on Cally Rd. The bottom one is where I’m going. Yes, it’s goodbye to King’s Cross for one week and hello to the Aegean, where Europe’s favourite bankrupt holiday playground is just about to enter high season, signified by hotels doubling their prices and charging for sunbeds.
The great thing about the Greek islands is that they’re cheaper and easier to reach from London than Cornwall, where the hotels charge for Sunday night even though you’re only staying on Saturday.
I’m voting with my tourist pounds, so greedy England’s loss is Mykonos’s gain. I’m flying the world’s favourite airline, Easyjet, and taking hand luggage only, comprising a loaded eReader, a laptop, an iPod, my mobile, four review books for the Financial Times, a pair of flip-flops, two pairs of shorts and four T-shirts.
I’ll probably blog, but it’ll be about, oh salad and suncream, or the fact that it hasn’t stopped raining since I arrived (see entries passim). That’s what happens in nice hot places. Nothing. There’s nothing to write about. Why do you think there are so many good crime novels from the Nordic countries? Everyone’s indoors. Sout, they’re all out having fun. Simple.