Up at oh seven hundred, two hours of peace and quiet by the pool reading. Lather up with sun cream, the yellow fireball rising higher in the sky. Slowly inch the lounger round, not quite Sexy Beast territory yet.
Daughter appears, there goes the peace and quiet, fluttering off like the butterflies on the Bougainvillea. Queue the start of this years: Come in the pool Dad!, When are you getting in Dad?.
Midday, head for the shade. The cool breeze on the balcony a welcome relief, no splashing going on up here. Peace, of sorts, to read.
Lunchtime. Beer time.
Fix Hellas, the one we thought least offensive last time we were here, three years ago. Bog standard holiday beer, bland, slightly grainy, cold and wet. The kind of beer you wouldn’t touch with a barge pole back home, but perfect right here, right now.
Lunch digested, probably time to get in the pool.