If you have been wondering where I was over the past week, this was the view from my hotel.
From the Greek island of Rhodes you can just about see the coast of Turkey. The island has been fought over and occupied by Greeks, Romans, Byzantines, Arabs, Crusader Knights, Ottoman Turks, Italians, Nazi Germans, the Brits and finally Greeks once again. Our own invasion of Rhodes began at London’s Stansted Airport, where having allowed plenty of time to cope with the Olympic hoards we were rewarded with the quickest ever airport journey and a very quiet Stansted once we arrived. So much for the scare-mongering about Olympic crowds from Boris and co!
Too early to check in we had a great lunch (certainly by airport catering standards) in The Bridge. Top quality gastro-pub burger with pint, just the thing to help pass the time. After check-in, security was a breeze, so we had plenty of time to contemplate the numerous Fifty Shades of Gray knock-offs in the Airport bookshop. Stansted used to have quite a good bookshop at one time, but since WH Smith got the concession consumer choice has been a bit limited. I was pleased to see a copy of my friend Peter Caddick-Adams’ Monty and Rommel on the shelves though.
Our flight left at around 4.30pm, so with the four hours spent crammed into the plane and the time difference we got into the pit of Hell that is Rhodes Airport at around 11pm. Naturally it was stiflingly hot so our baggage took ages to materialise. When it did we had to fight for it with the Czechs and Italians sharing the same carousel. Despite fearing further anarchy outside in the coach park, finding our bus to Lindos was a doddle. About an hour later we were watching the Moon rise over the Crusader Fort, with a refreshing pint of Mythos.
I was grateful for my bed that night, travelling late in the evening while going back in time exerts a toll on the physiology of this 50 something!