All I can say is, we were very lucky. Before we left the UK on September 25th the weather forecasts for the entire two weeks were dire. Storms were raging across Spain and Italy, and their tracks looked like clobbering Corfu. We went armed with umbrellas, cagoules, changes of clothing, a laptop, playing cards and crossword books.
Our plane from Robin Hood was on time, and we landed at 7:25 in the evening. There were big puddles at the airport, but it was dry and warm. As the bus drew away from the parking bay the rain began and turned into a torrent. Only later did we learn that planes earlier and later than us were aborting landings, circling for a long time and then going off to Athens or Thessonaliki to refuel.
When we reached the second mountain range, the rain stopped. Joy of joys, the bus went via Arillas and not Sidari, and only stopped once to drop the St George's people before we arrived at Little Prince for the usual hugs. There was a tiny shower in the morning, and that was the last rain we would see for ten days. There was a cool breeze for 24 hours, and from then on, apart from one brief evening blow, it was remarkably calm and warm. It was my birthday on the 26th, and Spiros at Nafsika brought a goodly slice of cheesecake with a solitary candle. I was touched.
Apart from walking to Akrotiri and another day to Arillas, we did pretty much nothing. Dropped in on Lesley, and of course went to pat Jackie and Pete and catch up with Bod. We divided our days between the beach and the Nafsika pool, where I did quite a bit of writing sitting in the bower with a beer, so I was pleased to come back with nearly half of a new novella written.
We had some wonderful food. Nafsika was on the top of its form, with lovely fish, moussaka, lamb on the spit and more. Spiros likes to test new menu items out on us, and one lunchtime I had a fantastic starter invention: mildly-spiced slivers of liver, onions and peppers with a delicious sauce, elegantly served in a crispy baked potato shell. Utterly yummy. We spent quite a long time deciding what it should be called without reaching a definitive answer. We’d also moaned to Spiros that Agios Stefanos never had green beans in a nice tomato sauce that you can get everywhere else in Greece (flat beans, not those stupid skinny French things). Stung by this slur on Corfiot cuisine, he emailed me the next day to say he got some runner beans, and when did we want them? Later that day a superb lunch of said delicious beans, with scrumptious tiny crisp whitebait and keftades – meatballs. At Nafsika you don’t just get food – you get cuisine. Also on the menu while we were there were lovely chicken kebabs at Little Prince, and, of course, a big bowl of moules frites at Beachcomber.
The first week was a busy one for the village; the second was the quietest I have ever seen, probably because Thomson had cancelled all Monday flights apart from a couple of main airports. Little Prince had only a handful of people in the evening, and mostly didn't do any dancing.
Met some very nice and interesting people in the Nafsika bar - including Catherine Barnes, who is a superb artist, and Tracey, who is a somewhat gorgeous embalmer, of all things.
Wednesday evening there was a massive storm. We got to Nafsika for dinner just before it started, and when we left at midnight it had abated.
Thursday was the last night at Little Prince. The place was packed. Dimitris had laid some kitchen staff off on the Monday because it had been so quiet, and now, faced with a full house he had to spend the evening cooking. Pavlos, having closed Zorba's, came to dance and help out. Later Dimitris complained that Pavlos had used seven times as much barbecue lighter fuel than Dimitris used, and indeed Alex's Zorba's Dance looked a bit like a clip from The Towering Inferno. The smiles were genuine that night. It had been a scorching summer, and everyone in the village was exhausted.
Friday morning the tables and chairs were all packed away. Our bus didn't leave until 4:45 pm, and we spent the day at Nafsika Pool, had a great lunch, then went up to Hippopots to buy a new frog for my desk collection, and say goodbye to Jackie and Bod.
We already knew our flight was delayed, because Doncaster airport's arrivals web page showed the incoming plane from Malaga that then becomes the Corfu flight was on a fifty-minute delay. So, some sitting around in the cafe outside the airport, flight, driving back to Hull and getting home just before midnight.
Despite the gloomy forecasts - we had two weeks of wonderful weather. Agios Stefanos wove its usual spell of good food and good company. Gillie so did not want to come home that she burst into tears when Spiros kissed her goodbye.