Back in The Enchanted Village, the social whirl stops long enough for us to just hop back on it.
Delicious canapes at Monty Chocs-Away's, then a bus ride for 24 villagers as we set off for a charity ball stuffed full of farmers (apologies to my father but I know he won't be reading this) and quick-stepping blue rinsers. The live music becomes too much for a youthful Randy Munchkin (more used to disco and hip-hop) whose pain threshold forces her to consider disembowelling herself with a fork.
Mr Grigg becomes hoarse after shouting more than usual just trying to make himself heard.
Champagne Charlie's eyes are out on stalks at the décolletage on display all around him. If he had a gun, he would probably shoot it. I am pleased for Posh Totty's sake she has chosen a demure Audrey Hepburn-style dress, otherwise she would be forever known as something quite similar but at the same time quite different.
From a nearby table, Darling Loggins swans over in a dress from e-Bay with a bow the size of Sturminster Newton. Mr Loggins and I catch up on gossip going back at least twenty years and Pelly Sheepwash comes back from the other side of the ballroom and announces: 'I've just seen Margaret Thatcher.'
From where I am sitting, the other village table looks much better behaved than ours. But we are closer to the bar, which seems like a reasonable excuse to me.
As the evening progresses, the music becomes more to Muscle and Randy's liking so they get down on it on the dance floor. Copious amounts of alcohol are consumed and the waitresses take away the kitty, thinking it's a tip. And then two o-clock comes around and we all have to go home.
On the bus, the community singing is somewhat muted, although Drink Up Thy Cider turns effortlessly into Dinah, Dinah, Show Us Yer Leg. Mr Sheepwash says nothing. He just looks down his nose ever so slightly, thinking: 'A man of my intellect? With my reputation?'
Smiles, hugs and hiccups are exchanged as the village outing comes to an end. The assembled cast disperse in a none-too-orderly fashion after the bus tips them out in the square.
Jet lag? What jet lag?
That's about it
We've just picked up a vehicle for my big brother from Kostas and Antonis at the appropriately-named Sunrise Car Hire. They'r...
Living in Greece for the past couple of months, I've been asked what the refugee situation is like here. Well, to be perfectly hones...
It's that time of year again, when the coach stops off at Lush Places to pick up villagers for the annual outing to Sidmouth Folk Festiv...
In a parallel universe, my book, Good Morning Corfu: A Year on a Greek Island is going down very well, like ouzo and iced water in the vi...
Down in the depths, Boris and his sirens have slunk into the shadows. 'There is no plan,' they say in unison, sniggering behind...