Next stop Alan Ayckbourn’s trio of plays “Living Together”, “Table Manners” and “Round and Round the Garden” (seen in that order) as part of “The Norman Conquests” in the round at the Old Vic — a theatre transformed for a 360 degree viewing experience. Being under 25 offers us the nice little perk of much discounted tickets, £20 for each play instead of £40–60, or thereabouts, a bargain. The six strong cast consisted of Amelia Bullmore, Jessica Hynes, Stephen Mangan, Ben Miles, Paul Ritter and Amanda Root.

Going into “Living Together”, Sam, Jo and I weren’t sure what to expect, our seats were at the rear of the auditorium, where the stage would normally sit, but instead a circular tier of seats stood, carved into the back. We were incredibly close to the circular stage with its ‘model village come wooden curtain’ and light furniture set. The three plays intermingle in time, each can standalone but together they form a bigger picture, portraying different nuances and natures of the characters whilst each incredibly reveals a significant plot point subtly but realistically referenced in the other two. (Reg wandering into the front room, “Ah there it is”, picks up the bin and walks out again).

The stories are deeply tragic; three siblings, two unhappily married and the other single yet equally unhappy. The other three cast members make up their spouses/possible future partners whilst a sick and elderly mother and her promiscuous past resides out of sight, upstairs and bedridden. Norman is all set to run away for a romantic weekend with his wife’s sister Annie, Annie’s potential love interest — Tom, the dim witted Vet, believes she is going on holiday alone and that this is partly his fault; Annie’s brother Reg and interfering wife Sarah arrive to look after mother for the weekend, in Annie’s absence. Norman’s wife Ruth remains unawares, but isn’t without suspicion. Cue the start of all three plays and without wishing to reveal too much; the home made parsnip wine, Reg’s cleverly devised board game he wants everyone to play, Norman’s desire to make everyone happy, Tom’s complete befuddlement, the rug, the silence at Breakfast, soup and salad, seating arrangements, Ruth’s misinterpreted advice in the garden, the cat stuck in the tree, the tomfoolery and East Grinsted — and as the family tears itself apart you’ll laugh with every turn, every revelation, every remark and your jaw will ache from the smile plastered across your face.

For Table Manners and Round and Round the Garden we were seated at the top in the middle, a little further from the action but still a great view. Originally we’d decided to only go to one of the three, but on the strength of Living Together — which we now believe was the best starting place — we booked the next two. If I had to put them in order of favourites I’d put the Garden episode first, closely followed by Living Together and then Table Manners.

Our taste for plays, comedies, Ayckbourn and the Old Vic have been stimulated and we’re ready for more.

Here’s the best shot I could get of the circular stage from where we were:

Before the shows we ate at the Bangalore Express (with its double decker seating arrangement) and Yo Sushi (where we used our buy 5 plates get 5 free vouchers), both of which are in walking distance from the Old Vic.

Following the Garden, which we saw on a Saturday afternoon in December, we grabbed the tube to Hyde Park to visit the Winter Wonderland with all of its Christmastime goodies and German-like markets. Warming up with a tasty steak burger we aimlessly perused the stalls, trying out the mulled wine, the candied nuts, mini dutch pancakes in chocolate, fun hats and German sausages. Without realising it had reached 9pm we meandered towards Covent Garden before resting at “Fire and Stone”, a fantastic stone-oven pizzeria where every pizza is based on a world city, I had a:

Marrakech // £8.95
Cumin spiced ground lamb, mozzarella, mint yoghurt sauce, green olives, raisins & sliced red onion drizzled with chilli oil.

Worth every penny.

The Ballet

The next big venture into London for Sam and I was to the Coliseum to see the English National Ballet performing Sleeping Beauty; my first foray into the world of ballet and dance. Approaching the night sleepified and docile, I wasn’t looking forward to the three hour performance despite pepping up with a home-made burger from a nearby Moroccan place off Leicester Square.

However, when the curtain lifted, the surrealism of a 3 hour show without a single spoken word, not even for the interval, slowly dawned on me, and with it I became quietly engrossed in the beautiful dance and skill before me, the miming techniques used for the plot mostly going over my head but for a few obvious examples. My slumber had me all buttered up and I left amongst the extraordinarily posh and the disproportionate number of rich attractive girls into the cold winter air, with scarf and gloves, ready for Christmas.

I loved the High Places set; their music is incredibly invigorating and refreshing, with a strange sort of aggression and tribalism when played live — suffice to say I bought their self titled 12″ at the close. Parenthetical Girls were not really my sort of thing, some stand out tracks, an interesting vocalist and instrument rotation made it worthwhile though.

Phil’s set was, as usual, mesmerizing and wonderful, despite his obvious exhaustion from traveling.

Downloads

Just for good measure, here are two downloads of the complete performances the last time I saw him live — recorded with permission by Sonny (via MEPS); first at The Luminaire and the next day at the London School of Economics library. Yesterday’s show didn’t top these, but to be honest that’s pretty hard ’cause they were awesome; there was even singalongs and people sat cross legged around him on the stage; it was all very intimate and beautiful.

Mount Eerie — Live at the Luminaire, May 23rd 2006 (my highlight from this one is track 28, Voice In Headphones).

Mount Eerie — Live at the LSE library, May 24th 2006

Media from The Dome

Les Miserables

I’ve long been a great hater of musicals that sing every. single. word. ♫ I’m going to get the milk ♫, that sort of thing. By that logic I should absolutely despise Les Mis’, listening to the songs briefly beforehand certainly suggested I would. Our seats were upper circle front row, I’d bought them with my sister for my mum’s birthday; we had a good view and I sat back unsure what to expect, ‘Look Down and see’.

Ahead of me the stories of Valjean, Fantine, Javert, Cosette, Eponine et al unfolded; the repeating musical theme resounded deep and a phenomenal performance by Drew Sarich coloured me impressed, with ‘On My Own’ heartrendingly sung by Eponine (Cassie Compton) fully engrossing me, for the first time, within a musical love story. This was and still is the best musical performance I have seen and until that point I had very little faith in the genre as a whole.

I left wanting more.

Marguerite

I had already seen Miss Saigon, although I do believe it wasn’t one of the best performances, I didn’t overly enjoy it. It probably deserves a second chance with my now renewed interest. Marguerite was a new musical with songs by Michel Legrand (see Umbrellas of Cherbourg!) and the hook, lyrics by Alain Boublil and Claude-Michel Schonberg.

The show, music and performances were all bitterly disappointing; the leading singing male came across as an over zealous stereotypical stage fella for which we did not emote. It was all a little lackluster, and no doubt others agreed — leading to the shows premature end in September. Luckily an overly chirpy and entertaining train conductor kept us happy on the way home; if only they were all as happy as him.

Fat Pig

Jo, Sam and I saw Fat Pig in its first English incarnation at the Trafalgar studios with Kris Marshall and Robert Webb. The comedy has a simple premise; some guy begins dating a fat girl and must face his work colleagues and their taunts — the ‘obsessed with looks’ ex-date and the crude and womanizing buddy.

Big Spoilers now. The first half revolves around Tom and Helen, the librarian, meeting, laughs a plenty and smiles all around — an hilarious comedy as billed. With the second half comes the to and fro of a relationship, the ups and downs and inevitable questions about the future which revolve around Helen meeting Tom’s work mates; the comedy softens you up and keeps you content in the happy ending realm of positive message storytelling — before a long and quiet conversation on the beach punches you in the gut, rips out your heart and splatters it on the wall, bringing you straight back to reality and ending the show in darkness. Absolutely brilliant.

I heartily recommend this, though cannot vouch for the new lineup or venue.

39 Steps

Another comedy, we got tickets cheap for this one in the stalls, and thought why not. None of us had actually seen the movie, so we didn’t know quite what to expect, especially with only four cast members playing the role of many. It turned out to be a slapstick affair with very clever prop jokes, costume changes and role switching; a good laugh and another recommended night out.

Avenue Q

Sam and I saw this one on our weekend to the Hoxton Hotel,

Middle of the middle in the stalls we watched the well praised Avenue Q as the Gary Coleman references whisked over our heads and the ‘grab your dick and double click‘ line resounded. Though we enjoyed it, the abundant acclaim meant it did not meet our high expectations.

This adult puppet comedy, although making us laugh, really didn’t grab us as we had thought and hoped it might. A tad disappointing, it might have been the understudies but probably just all the hype surrounding it.

Rain Man

Another performance caught on the Hoxton weekend, lucky enough to get tickets on the day,

Neither of us had seen the Dustin Hoffman movie, we went in without any expectations and without grounds for comparison. We left absolutely stunned — wow; the play was brilliant with Godley and Hartnett supremely leaving us on tender hooks. This was the first straight up play we’d seen together and no doubt we’ll be back for more of the same.

It is very much a love story, a comedy and a drama. I must remember to now watch the movie (adding to my LoveFilm list). I’m not sure how we would have reacted to it had we seen the movie. To no surprise, a large proportion of the audience were female. I do agree that Hartnett is a stud, even in The Black Dahlia with its stellar cast, which I caught last night, a poor attempt at a film noir.

Zorro

Zorro is the most recent of musicals I have seen after Sam grabbed four tickets for £40; this opened earlier in the year and Matt Rawle plays the lead and once again I had no expectations or even a clue as to the story. The show is none too serious (despite the brilliant ‘Man behind the Mask’ number) and comes accompanied with flamenco gypsy dancing, heel stomping, sword fights, fire and The Gypsy Kings (see Bamboleo); ‘a fun filled romp’ some tabloid review might say and it certainly was. With a dance and clap encore I left with dancing feet completely satisfied with my night out, bar the Gypsy King tracks that looped around my cranium for the remainder of the night.

If you want some plain old fun in London, I recommend Zorro the musical!

Last night I had the privilege of seeing M83 live at Scala in London, with The Domino State supporting; and oh how superb it all was. Of course there was a strong focus on the new album, Saturday=Youth, but they didn’t forget the old songs, mixing it up beautifully with Dead Cities and Before the Dawn Heals Us. As the rising drums, guitars and rhythm of “A Guitar and a Heart” crashed through the venue with ever increasing furor and energy, a shiver shot down my spine and I hoped it would never end.

Here is some crappy footage I shot on my camera just for my own nostalgic purposes. Note how the camera can’t hold its auto focus in the light levels, giving the impression I can’t focus anything.

Review by There Goes The Fear:

Normally the words shoegaze, pop, 80s, rave and enjoyable shouldn’t be put next to each other, let alone used to describe the same 90 minutes. However, those are just the words I’m going to use to describe last night’s M83 gig at London’s Scala.

Taking to a stage covered with enough cables to give even the most seasoned of electricians a heart attack, Anthony Gonzalez (who’s much smaller and more elflike in real life than I had realised…) made it clear it was his night, and with the help of a few supporting artists ploughed through an impressive selection of his work from the past 7 years.

Naturally, the focus of the evening was on new album Saturdays=Youth, with tracks like Couleurs, Graveyard Girl and Kim & Jessie getting some of the biggest cheers of the night. However, whilst his new pop direction was the reason Scala was so packed, he didn’t forget the diehard fans from his early days (and there were a few…), throwing in some harder dancier numbers which culminated in the encore with an almost full-on rave. Well, for about 5 minutes.

Shoegaze was the theme of the evening really though, with many songs blurring into one, and for the casual fan (like myself) it was easy to lose yourself in the music for 10 minutes, totally entranced by the teamwork and the skills of everyone.

Said weekend started last Friday, we each took the day off and took our quick and usual route into the centre; meeting outside Leicester Square, cases in tow, ready to be tourists for a couple of days. After apple juice and lunch in St James’ park we took the Northern Line to Old Street and checked in, electrified by the overwhelming trendiness that is both the hotel and surrounding area.

Note the scissor, paper, stone pillows. With pre-booked tickets for Avenue Q at the 5:30pm matinee it wasn’t long before we were back on the streets, exploring Hoxton and Shoreditch and grabbing a Tortilla (potato quiche) and roasted veggies from the excellent and delicious Food Hall on Old Street. We LOVE this place and would spend a fortune here if left unaccompanied.

Middle of the middle in the stalls we watched the well praised Avenue Q as the Gary Coleman references whisked over our heads and the ‘grab your dick and double click’ line resounded. Though we enjoyed it, the abundant acclaim meant it did not meet our high expectations. Away from the Noel Coward theatre and back to Hoxton Square where we had reserved a table at The Apprentice, as recommended by a friend. A little unnerved at the emptiness of the place we perused the night menu’s offerings, opting for the spicy leek and carrot soup of the day starter and the “Osso Bucco with risotto Millanise and gremolata sauce” as main, with Sam choosing the Salmon and spinach dish. Osso Bucco is a dish of tasty veal shanks and it was pure bliss — I didn’t need my knife to cut the meat, it simply fell apart, all juicy and scrumptious — it was perfect.

On Saturday we considered rushing to Leicester square to grab theatre tickets early in the morning; but rising late at 10am we quickly abandoned this notion, instead just following our noses. Up ‘n’ down Brick Lane, past Les Trois Garcons — too eccentric for Sam’s tastes, to the Food Hall for caramelized garlic bread, cheese, spinach tortilla and anchovy cauliflowers, respectively devoured by the canal off Upper Street near Angel.

Darting back in via tube we saw the sites; Trafalgar square, Buckingham palace, Hyde Park and all that. After a tea/cappuccino recuperation stop spent watching the passing horses and cyclists in Hyde Park we tried to find an evening event. All the movies at the BFI film festival were sold out, as were any shows we’d planned to see — judging by the boards in the square. Music events were the next option but of course the weekend doesn’t have free papers to look these up! Going out on a limb, we headed to the Apollo Theatre looking for tickets to Rain Man starring Josh Hartnett and Adam Godley; luck would have it they still had some and for £31 each we grabbed upper circle seats for the 7:30pm showing. With two hours to spare we had a set menu Chinese dinner at Mr Kong’s in Chinatown — the usual duck pancakes, sesame bread, seaweed et al.

Neither of us had seen the Dustin Hoffman movie, we went in without any expectations and without grounds for comparison. We left absolutely stunned — wow; the play was brilliant with Godley and Hartnett supremely leaving us on tender hooks. This was the first straight up play we’d seen together and no doubt we’ll be back for more of the same.

Sunday took us to the areas of London we wouldn’t normally go, London Bridge, Tower Bridge, the Tower of London and later South Kensington for lunch and the museums. We stopped at the Hoop & Toy in Kensington for a relatively cheap but tasty steak/burger with a bottle of red ‘Cape Promise Pinotage’. With alcohol fueling our system we pleasantly stumbled around the Victoria and Albert museum, napping by the large middle Eastern carpets, and then later to the Natural History Museum — through Geology, past the birds and into the realm of the dinosaurs, before being ushered out at the close of play.

More tea breaks back at the Hoxton Hotel where we picked up our bags and aimlessly chatted as the time whisked away, soaking up the coolness of the vibe, shoes off and relaxed. Then home and an end to our wonderful weekend; looking forward to the next one.

Heading over appeared easier on paper, short flight to CDG, Paris then an 11 hour Air France flight to Salt Lake City (do not go to the Travelodge near Heathrow and certainly do not taste their food — if you must there is a nicer looking pub just around the corner). Looking online beforehand we noted the movies we wanted to watch, etc. Unfortunately the flight was with an Air France partner, Delta, without a sophisticated in flight entertainment system — instead giving us in the aisle airings of the awful “Little Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day” and “Kung Fu Panda”, leaving 7 hours to spare. No doubt the complimentary Kronenbourg 1664 helped the trip go a little faster. All in all it felt like a short haul flight — just really really long. Leaving the dull London 12C we were treated to a basking 88F on arrival, where we picked up our 4x4 Suzuki rental and proceeded towards Park City in the mountains.

With a little time to spare before we collapsed in a heap of jet lag, we nipped to Ruby Tuesday’s at the Kimball junction for our first dose of American dining alongside the odd tipping culture and the first of the auto-free refills — auto in that they always come back to fill you up. Dr Pepper, overly salted fries and a glorious Bison burger with ranch sauce nestled nicely in my tummy when I slipped into an unconscious 11 hour nap, bringing me nicely into Utah time.

Our rooms were conjoined at the wall, with handy inner door, to form a cozy, large and homely ‘mega room’ of duplicates. Full kitchen, half kitchen, washer dryer, one of those ‘garbage disposal’ grinders, balcony, three sofas, one jacuzzi, one shower with steamer and seat, one bath, four televisions each with cable, a large dining table, luxury bed robes, two safes, two king sized double beds and to wrap it all off a free newspaper in the morning (USA Today)! We were also treated to a heated half in-half out pool with two hot tubs aside it, pool tables, table tennis tables and a basketball net. Though most of my holidays are about getting out and seeing as much of the culture as possible, on the days we had nothing planned or didn’t feel like going too far, these facilities made staying ‘at home’ a lot more enjoyable.

First stop, Walmart and then Smiths for much needed groceries, bagels, drinks and Peanut Butter M&Ms! After a green chili and cheese bagel and something I prefer to call plastic yellow rather than cheese filling, we nosed around Park City’s old main street, with a little bit of shopping and a gander at some puppies in an antiques store with old native, hunting and skiing memorabilia. Eleanor cooked a very tasty roast for dinner, though she was too tired to eat most of it.

Day 2 and the Indian summer continued as we drove down the valley into Salt Lake to pick up a map, visit the “This is the place” monument and carry on towards a small Mall with a terrible food court and Antelope Island. The island sits in the middle of the great lake and is home to a herd of Bison, ‘wave cut platforms’ and a lowly little ranch with some informational plaques. The second shot below was taking from the eating point where we enjoyed some juicy refreshments before heading home.

Wednesday became an outlet store shopping trip complete with red Vans shoes, a lot of relaxing, some pool side sunning, swimming and a meal at the local Good Thymes. Home cooked bread and butter, Brie and Roasted Chicken Quesadilla and Down South Nachos prior to some local Rainbow fresh water trout; all lovely but shame about the over peppering. The meat loaf was also palatable.

With morning pancakes and syrup I packed my bag for a trip up Mount Timpanogos to view the caves. Of course, no one else in my family was up to the 1300ft hike up the paved track, so I did it alone. The thin windy road towards the entrance of the path granted stunning beautiful views of the mountains and foliage complete with autumnal colours — at the cost of nail biting corners; Eleanor was having none of it and was later glad to escape to the safe confines of another shop. Meanwhile I trekked up the mountainside for 90 minutes, past sheer drops, rattlesnake habitats, chipmunks and spray painted red areas you aren’t allowed to stop in, to reach the three large cave systems at the top. Through the ragged limestone formations, out the other side and back down in half an hour and I rejoined the troupe. In the evening we met a local named Elaine and her family in Ogden where we were treated to turkey and other tasty treats. Back at home I caught the highlights of the Vice Presidential Debate, impressed by Biden.

The weekend brought with it rain, lots and lots of rain. In it we drove around Heber City and up the monument for those in the region that have fought in wars, before going down the valley and stopping at University Mall to buy yet more things — Eleanor finding that Nordstrom had in stock some beauty products she’d been looking for.

Luckily enough, the sun made its return on Monday in time for a day out with an old friend of Stuart’s; from peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and views of the Wabash front we were taken down into Salt Lake to see temple square and the other latter day saints monuments and the view from the top of state street. Then a stop off at Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory, a quick trip to the air field to see the aircraft he pilots ($25m Challenger) and back home for a fine BBQ and a game of Ticket to Ride with the family.

After Stuart hurt his ankle, probably playing table tennis with me, the rest of us drove down to Heber (after topping up the rear tire with a little bit of air, following the prompt on screen warning we were given) to go on the valley railway. We didn’t get the steam train, instead a more forceful looking engine, and for $30 we each rode down into the valley. Having driven this route a couple of times now this wasn’t the most exhilarating of trips though it did give a welcomed break to the road, and from the rear cart, which was open to the elements, you could see the snow capped mountains (they had a dusting overnight it seems) and the autumn leaves.

That evening we tried out the Hapa Grill; a sushi bar. Here I was treated to a very tasty thai beef salad; the beef and crushed peanuts really did the trick. I also took the opportunity to introduce mum and Eleanor to the wonders of sushi, starting first with the much loved California Roll (crab, cucumber and avocado) and later trying the Eel which didn’t go down too well. Stuart of course stayed well away from it all; instead sticking to his faithful root beer and refills.

It was about this time that Eleanor developed a severe pain in one of her rear teeth, leading to severe agony, many painkillers, sleepless nights and an eventual trip to a dentist on our last Friday. For $350 we found out that her root canal was infected, needed cleaning out and refilling. Loaded with powerful but nauseating painkillers, antibiotics, a syringe and some X-rays, Eleanor made it through the rest of the holiday dosed up, docile and puffy faced. Though nothing but positive things to say about the dentist she saw.

That kind of put a damper on our plans for the end of the week; later that day Eleanor caught up on her sleep whilst we visited the Utah Olympic park; I conceived of many ways to beat the ball bearing slalom games at the visitor center and get the top scores before checking out the freestyle ski jumps and the bobsleigh run from a distance.

We ate at Squatters along the way from Westgate towards PC, the Polygamy Porter ale was scrumptious but the food was distinctly lacking.

Friday turned bitterly cold and with Saturday came snow. A couple of inches falling in just an hour. Armed with a list of targets to be met, we set off with a mission; first heading North to a “Super Target”, then back down through Salt Lake, Provo and eventually Ogden, to visit a proper Steakhouse and see Elaine again; Eleanor and I opting to do some last minute shopping and picking up some fantastic bargains in Aeropostale. The succulent 9oz filet with jacket potato was delicious. Before packing we made one final stop at Walmart for treats and the Vans outlet so I could buy 3 more pairs of radiant but glorious shoes at cheap cheep prices.

More overnight snow led to our death defying down the mountain trek into Salt Lake to catch our 8:30am flight, where the lanes were unclear, the tracks hard to follow and the car ready to escape from beneath us, though helpfully warning of icy conditions. Through mum’s excellent driving and nerve we made it to the rental drop off point, boarded our plane and we were flying away home, this time with in flight entertainment (Indy 4, Must Like Dogs and The Baker) and empty seats to lie down on — oh what a difference it makes.

The end.

P.S. … Pumpkin Ale is disgusting:

And this guy is really cool looking:

I don’t read the script. The script reads me.

Arsenic and Old Lace

Importing 5 years worth of posts from Blogger and then categorizing them was not a pretty task. Though I did notice a gradual descent into immaturity as I worked backwards. In celebration of this achievement, and bringing this blog inline with my other projects, the site has changed hosts and lives on its own domain as a separate outlet for unprofessional blurbs, rants and whatnot; www.mrfofr.com. The Mr. bit is new, I’d be pretty lucky to bag a four letter domain name.

After 5 years, my AMD Athlon 2700 XP with 1.5gb of RAM and LG 17″ screen was growing weary. Time for an upgrade, and the new 24″ iMac model took my fancy — I grabbed one from John Lewis in July and its now sitting pretty as the focus of my front room, coinciding with a big rearrangement of furniture.

Good timing really, considering that I had multiple and simultaneous hard drive failures on my PC shortly thereafter as I tried to transfer 40gb or so to the mac.

Having been through the old posts, I noted that, in hindsight, screenshots of my projects are very helpful for when the original source material has since vaporized into the mists of some internet purgatory. And on that note:

Rewinding to last Wednesday, I left the office amidst a flurry of work for two weeks, lugging my suitcase behind. In West Ewell, after crossing London, we ate Sam’s risotto of “things left in the fridge”, I watched Man Utd nervously and luckily win the Champions League against Chelsea whilst Sam hurriedly tried to remember all the things she might forget. Come 3:45am, the serenade of my phone alarm assaults us and throws us out of bed, diving into suitcases to triple check our tickets and passports. — before being whisked to Gatwick by Sam’s mum for our 7:00am flight to Mitilene, the Lesbos capital, via First Choice airlines. We booked the holiday and flights through First Choice two months in advance for £850, choosing to stay at the Sun Rise Hotel, next to Molyvos, in North Lesbos.

I shall not get into our laborious process of deciding which island/resort to visit in Greece, but we decided on Lesbos for its vegetation, size, relatively ow tourism, direct flights and culture. The Sun Rise Hotel was also highly rated on Trip Advisor (other candidates were the Olive Press Hotel (too noisy), The Sea Horse (no pool) and a couple of others (Petra, Anaxos, too far from the beautiful Molyvos).

On landing we discarded our jumpers, breathed in the hot air and set about across the mountainous terrain of Lesbos, via taxi, to the north of the island — about an hours drive, at a speedy pace with horn honking at junctions and overtaking of one handed motorcyclists that were texting on their phones. We checked in and proceeded up the 100-odd steps to our room, with a glorious North Lesvos sea view, and Turkey clear in our sights over the water. The room is nice, excellent for sleeping and looking after our clothes, which is all we need it for. The Sun Rise Hotel offers a full and half board food service, we got the breakfasts but opted out of the evening meals — we like our restaurants! A good choice considering their food is over priced and not very good (we sampled a chicken a la creme, a tuna salad and a burger on our first day — though not again since — Sam also made the Chicken Creme mistake in Sozopol).

I’m currently sitting by their pool, basking in the hot sun, as I write this — it looks so refreshing and the sound of the water fountain is soothing. Every now and then a House Martin swoops down to take a quick drink. Sam’s reading her book “The Lollipop Shoes” and her sun burn has mostly gone down, though I am sure it will quickly return. I am reading Mark Danielewski’s “House of Leaves”. We’ve played some table tennis but hand to eye co-ordination isn’t Sam’s strong point.

On our first day we ate our cheese, egg and tomato breakfast rolls, drunk the odd tasting tea and took the SRH courtesy bus down to Molyvos. It’s a small coastal town built against a towering rock with castle atop. The roads are thin, cobbled up’n’down affairs, navigated by the locals on their mopeds and bikes. The central streets are lined with small but cute touristy shops, restaurants with balconies and expensive clothes shops — each of which Sam has thoroughly explored. At the bottom lies the small port and all the highly rated places to eat, with their freshly caught wild fish. There are also cats — everywhere! We met two northern English couples here fishing with a small line they had bought, using bread to catch small fish and octopi.

Between 1pm and 5pm the heat is unbearable and most shops shut for their siesta. We headed back to the hotel on the 3pm courtesy bus (at 3:45, it doesn’t turn up unless you go into the BEST car rental/bar next to the stop and ask for the bus to come — the place is run by the same family). In waiting we met a lovely family that tipped us off about a nice little pizzeria round the corner from SRH, “Fantastico”. Escaping the confines of our hotel foods we enjoyed Pizza and intoxicating house wines down towards Eftalou Hotel at the aforementioned. A nice cherry brandy on the house tipped Sam over the tipsy boat before we staggered home.

Saturday tooks us on a 40 min walk towards Eftalou’s hot water springs via pebbly beaches, hot unshaded roads, poppies and lizards basking. Too sun burnt for the springs we dabbled our feet in the cold sea and made games with the rocks.

After cooling down in the pool, now a common practice, we walked into Molyvos (20-40mins) for a meal at The Captain’s Table, a place run by English speaking Melinda and family. We’d read that their Mezes and Fish were particularly tasty and everyone has spoken very highly of them. Here I sampled the cloudy white Ouzo, spicy aubergines, Tabouleh (a cracked wheat dish), salted Anchovies (perfect with Ouzo), salted uncooked swordfish, “Grandma’s Cheese Pie”, grilled octopus, home-made chips and lettuce salad ~€43. We plan to return for some fresh fish. We stopped for some cocktails at Molly’s bar (another recommended place), drawn in by the awful sounds of the Eurovision song contest. A black russian, pina colada, strawberry daquiris and weird green thing with ice cream later and the room was buzzing with international cheers and boos as songs played and the votes came in. Not the same without Wogan but the zealous laughter and insults more than made up.

Everyone here on Lesbos is very open, talkative and friendly. You can go and speak to anyone and they’ll be happy to engage with you. Everything is incredibly welcoming — there’s banter between tables at restaurants and friendly chatter everywhere between strangers. It’s very easy to make friends and feel like part of something bigger — whether its the Greek native or the holiday atmosphere, this place brings out the best.

Needless to say, we got home at 2am, thoroughly sloshed. Sunday became a tiring shopping trip with a quest for sun-block, hats and shoes. We ate at Betty’s for lunch, sharing a pork Kleftiko with some giant white beans. Sam also discovered a taste for iced tea, I drank one of only four beers available on the island — Amstel. A charming place on the hill with overlooking balcony.

After a nap under a tree near the Olive Press, and a dip in the pool, it was back to Fantastico for a shared Pizza and cheap night out.

Monday brought the start of the local bus service from Eftalou through to Anaxos for only €1.40. With this we headed to Petra, the beachy tourist trap — I haggled for a hat and Sam for some olive decorated pottery. In the heat we climbed the central rock and the church at the top. After coming back down, we walked through the back streets of the town, heading back to the centre via a beach-side walk, hilariously ending with Sam’s shoes falling unceremoniously into the Sea right as we decided to head back to the road. For lunch we had fresh bread, salami and cinammon doughnuts. There’s not a lot to do in Petra, other than sunbathe and shop for post cards, and maybe ride a pedalo. So we took the bus back to Molyvos for the evening — despite Sam’s desire to go to an obscure “Greek night” which offered a set meal, somewhere on the edge of Petra.

Sam’s printed restaurant review pack took us in search of The Galley which was famed for its Moussaka — inquiring at Molly’s it seems like it no longer exists — so they recommended “Le Grand Bleu”. Here we went for stuffed Zucchini flowers and two portions of Moussaka, with a litre of house wine as refreshment. We stumbled happily home. There’s a peculiar feeling to an out door restaurant with a small road running through it — with mopeds, cats and dogs alike.

Today is Tuesday, our day off by the pool, which started with a sweaty stroll around the hill we sit atop of, with more pebbly beaches, humming bird hawk moths, unfinished houses, the odd lush villa and the hot hot sun. With Sam’s kiss it’s time to wrap this up for now — not a cloud above us.

***

It is Sunday now and we are back by the pool in a much busier hotel. Tuesday’s plan was a romantic starlight cruise round the North West bay, on arrival we found that, much to our disappointment, although advertised, it did not run “this early in the season” — not enough people. At a loss we wandered the harbour watching schools of fish in the clear water beneath us. Into the harbour cmae a small boat advertising personal trips for a maximum of 4 persons — running to grap the captain, Stradis, Sam found that he offered a 1–2 hour trip at €60.

With a prospect of a night time boat ride the next night we happily settled for our second meal at The Captain’s Table, looking for some fresh fish! On showing our interest, Melinda invited us into the kitchen to peruse the fresh fish they had — taking them out of the ice box one by one explaining taste, type, bones and price. The Hate and Sea Bream took our fancy, and after Sam’s anxiety over bones, her’s came pre-filleted, both with head and tail still attached. Delicious! Next to us were a couple from our hotel, with a lovely looking Captains Platter. We chatted over complimentary Ouzo before having a lift home from our new friends.

Wednesday brought an early start, at breakfast for 7:30, in taxi at 8:10, we headed to Petra to begin the first of three walks as outlined in “Walks in North Lesvos” by Lance Chilton. For something easy to begin with, we took the 30 — 45 min walk to Anaxos around the coast, along Petra’s main road, round the waterline past seaweed mounds, a mooring place and rocks to scramble over, we reached Anaxos with relative ease. On discovery that Anaxos is nothing more than a taverna/hotel filled tourist trap for sun worshipers, we opted for the second walk, round a dirt track in the hills to the secluded beach of Ambelia, about an hours walk. The temperature was rising, but the route offered some shade and it was just bearable for Sam. After some trouble finding the start of the trail, our walk took us to a wonderful view of the beach and the high up village of Skoutaros, then winding down across a small river and finally to the south end of the sandy beach. A single Taverna, “George’s” gave us our much needed refreshment and toilet stop. Here we found a riverbed filled with Terrapin’s which fought over chunks of our crusty bread.

We ate our salami and bread lunch in a shaded alcove at the end of the bay, throwing remains to the ever grateful fish. Our return route, the third walk, took us up and over the cliffs, the coastal path. Glorious views of cliffs covered in “Yellow everlasting”, Poppies and clear blue sea’s below came at the cost of no shade and the odd thorny encounter plus some beastly hornets, as well as passing one man and his reluctant horse in tow. Taking this route in the height of the day did not prove to be the best idea, we missed our bus and were left utterly parched and sun-roasted in the terrible Anaxos. We were saved by a lady named Alison, pointing us towards a pool and some refreshments where we cooled off for an hour or two, with countless applications of moisturizer and sun lotion.

After the bus home, tired and headached, we opted to postpone the boat trip and headed for the recommended Eftalou Restaurant. From our hotel to the restaurant at the pebbly beach we were accompanied by a charming little dog. Amongst numerous cats and denied food requests (“we don’t have that — try this…”) we ate the fish of the day and a fresh tuna steak, with complimentary Watermelon for dessert. Whilst its hard to pinpoint anything bad, we left very disappointed with the place. Perhaps it was the selection of food on offer (Zucchini pie advertised but not available) or the misunderstanding over fish of the day not gilt headed bream as it appeared, but the unexciting Cod, who knows. Despite the mediocrity we left with high spirits.

Thursday was another day spent by the pool, saying goodbye to friends we made in the week, preparing for the inevitable Thursday changeover that takes back the Brits and brings in the fresh ones. Our hotel was getting ready for full capacity, from 80 to 190 guests. It was sad to see everyone go, the couples and the families, and we chatted in the sun by the pool until 4pm when their coach departed, with pork Souvlakis from Fantastico in between.

With all the old English gone and the new not yet acquainted, Molyvos was very quiet on Thursday night — as we headed to the harbour for our boat trip. Unfortunately, today the wind had picked up to coincide with hotter temperatures (33C), making the sea too choppy for a romantic night on a small boat for 2. With banana and watermelon ice creams we pondered the cost, when a slightly larger 10 person glass bottomed boat docked. Through Sam’s sprint for the captain and inquisitive nature we bagged a discounted €15 each trip around Petra and Rabbit island with dinner including, ditching Stradis and his smaller boat — which we felt bad about but concluded tha he would not have taken us out in the wind. The larger boat cut through the waves much easier and the greek music played as our captain Alex took us to a mooring place on Rabbit island, via some underwater reefs viewed through the bottom. The thousands of nesting gulls on the island were not best pleased to see us as we headed to the top they squawked and began to dive at us, “WHOOSH” over my head, needless to say we were out of there quickly, back on the boat for the prepared barbecue. Our return took us via Petra, watching the red sunset quickly descent into the haze of the horizon.

Back in Molyvos, not quite sated, we hunted down Tropicana and “The Square”, higher up in the town, towards the harbour, an area not yet explored. Despite its generic name, Tropicana gave us a delightful greek salad with well priced Mythos and ‘concocted from two drinks’ Orangeade.

Friday became Car Rental Day, we looked at BEST, Avis and Hertz. Avis gave us the best deal, a yellow Hyundai Alto for €32 a day, with full insurance covered by First Choice, compared to €47 from BEST. I nail-bitingly aided Sam in her wrong-side of the road endeavour, reminding that we are now driving on the right and that the steering wheel should be in the middle of the road.

After trying out the roads we knew, we bravely headed through the winding, perilous mountain roads for Kalloni and Sakala Kalloni. Taking it slow and letting others overtake where we could, we made it to the bustling town, second largest in Lesbos, Kalloni. A lot of the Greek cheeriness appeared to have escaped this busy, functioning locale. With a stroll, a stop at a fine hidden bakery, supermarket stop for some feta cheese and salami and getting lost in the sun and streets, we escaped southwards for Skala Kallonis, missing the turn and carrying along to a very quiet, sandy beach just before Parakila. The only others there were locals, the parasols were free and the taverna cheap. The Kalloni gulf is ridiculously salty, giving us an enjoyable extra buoyancy in our sea side swimming. The sand fell away to a decent depth quickly, with the bonus of clear water for watching the large fish, crabs and hermits that nestled and nibbled at our toes unafraid.

After 4 hours the school kids were out, splashing loudly they engulfed the beach so we returned back to the car and onwards to Skala Kallonis correctly this time. Upon parking, a very British club-going sort of fella that now lived on the island explained and divulged the secret wonders of the moths and caterpillars, as long swirling, squiggly things rained on us from the trees above. The famed migratory birds had long gone, to my disappointment. Rather than eating at Medusa which we finally found, amongst a fisherman clubbing an octopus, we drove home before nightfall, with a small detour to Agia Paraskevi in search of Apollo’s temple.

Sam’s fear of heights really kicked in on the return leg, we made safe but slow progress. Congratulating Sam on a job well done, something she was clearly very nervous about doing, we returned the car (I had a small scooter trip), and had a full meal of Beef Goulash and Stifado at Tropicana, with their speciality salad and feta stuffed peppers. Stuffed, happy and relieved, we slept soundly.

***

Saturday brought another early morning to this holiday, the Wild West coach excusrion around North West Lesvos, pickup at 8:15am. For €33 each we were to explore the area of Limonos, the village Vatoussa, the Petrified Forest and Skala Eressos. Another young couple from our hotel were on the tour with us, they flew in on Thursday and we shared with them our tips. The large air conditioned coach and charismatic guide Ismini greeted us and we were off, through Petra and Anaxos for more pickups, speedily along the tight mountain roads, winding around, horns blown at corners, rip-roaring around the hair pins with the spoken histories of Petra and Anaxos being explained to us, down towards Skala Kallonis where we were yesterday, for the last pickup. Then back up to Limonos Monastery, largest of the island, with a father superior and two monks.

The area is surrounded with small church like monuments, paid for by families as dedications to lost loved ones. The monastery is in a yard with with walled protection in the form of Monk’s cells and a small family of Peacocks. We opted out of the little Byzantine museum, instead wandering the court-yards. An old ruling prevents women from entering the monastery itself (“to stop temptation”). so I went in alone — the walls, ceilings and coves were all elaborately decorated, one depiction of a shark teethed individual being jested by an angel sticks in my mind. No pictures allowed.

Leaving here, sticking to our rigid time constraints, we travelled to Vatoussa which exists within the crater of a dormant volcano, via Filia and Anemotia, stopping for some local Baclava then whisked away again, before we could catch our breath, to the petrified forest. This lies past the high up, mountain perched Ipsilou monastery, overlooking the island — you can see Molyvos in the distance from here. The roads became more perilous, steep, unprotected drops as the coach roars onwards as fast as possible. The petrified forest, a collection of fossilized trees, is amongst the most barren of landscapes, almost moon like — the hottest part of the tour at the hottest time of the day. The largest trees have been uncovered, sparsely populating the park, protected with frail wooden fences, tourists are urged not to touch, but do so anyway. Smaller “tree-rocks” remain unearthed, fragments scattered about the place, some even jutting out of dirt paths. Some shade, a coke and it’s back on the bus and down to Skala Eressos, birthplace of Sappho. On our travels here we were lucky enough to see a Black Stork.

A 2 hour stop brought us some Mezes at the Aegean in the square; fried zucchini, aubergine dip, fries and some feta — just right. By the time we were done, 4:30 had come and the coach was leaving once more, giving us no time to explore the church or the beach. Although a tourist resort it has more character and flavour than Petra offers. Time to head home on a 2 hour round trip, expertly through Messotopos, Agra, passed the entrance to the bay and Parakila, then up through the hills and Kalloni once more. Although interesting, the weariness, driving, constant turning, up and down and heat were incredibly nauseating. Whilst we did a lot, saw a lot and learned a lot, it was not the most enjoyable of days given the sickness and time constraints. If you are a confident drives its probably better to buy a guide and drive yourself.

Home by 6:30pm and despite exhaustion, we went for the evening to a small taverna, triangular shaped at the cross roads between Molyvos and Eftalou, for their “Greek Night” with live music accompaniment. The loud music played and the menu appeared promising — we made our choices; stuffed peppers and lamb kleftiko. They had neither, five iterations later (no potato salad, meatballs or stews) it appeared they had none of the food on their menu. In the meantime the music became piercingly loud, headache inducing with constant feedback from the singer, and those next to us lit up their cigs, smoke blowing in our faces. We should have left, but they had my last choice, a burger, and we decided to judge them on their food — a mistake. After taking what felt like an eternity our food was cold, partly cooked and disgusting; a congealed lamb sauce with no flavour, hard rice, soggy chips and all at an expensive price. Going against my principles we fed the waiting cats, they didn’t like it much either. As we were served our complimentary desserts/drink we paid and left. DO NOT GO HERE. To recover our evening we had ice creams in the harbour (mocha/chocolate! mmm), meeting an equally unhappy couple in the process, with whom we proceeded to bitch. On the bus home we overheard others praising the place; I cannot think how or why.

***

It is now Thursday afternoon and I have been torn from the luscious pool to return home to England, with a one hour coach trip across Lesbos to Mitilene then a flight to Gatwick, London. The flight crew are handing out headphones for the in flight movie, “National Treasure: Book of Secrets” whilst the islands pass away beneath us on the Aegean sea.

Sunday was a designated pool day — time to read our books, practice our various swimming techniques and generally chillax. Tanned, but mostly red, after a late Hawaiian pizza from Fantastico, we wandered down into Molyvos for the evening. Still rather saited, we aimlessly shopped, pondered and considered a meal — even sitting down at the harbour’s “Octopus” restaurant, before leaving because we weren’t hungry. Our evening was saved by the couple from the tour, Mia and James.

Flagged down as we passed them at “Cafe Pirate”, we ate with them at the corner of Market Street, next to the butchers — ordering a selection of Mezes (stuffed vine leaves, tuna crepe) and a large carafe of wine. After talk of jobs in Jamaica and Iraq, Baklava in Montreal and perfectly made coffee, flash floods in Montpelier and some talk about ourselves, we devoured our complimentary walnut baklava and stumbled down to Molly’s for cocktails above the harbour. Tequila sunrises, Black Russians, Alfas, etc. and so on — we left drunk enough to almost forget bags, staggering along cobbled streets down to the taxi rank. “Your donkey doesn’t have enough shade”, we read aloud to the taxi driver; a note left pegged to his fence. Back at the hotel, tomorrow was here, our heads were spinning and our beds enveloped us for what remained of the night.

Stirring at 9:30am, just making Monday’s breakfast (cheese, scrambled egg, tomato, bacon roll, grapefruit juice and now black tea because the milk tastes funny), we postponed the planned coastal walk — instead we chose a hangover recovery procedure, consisting of painkillers and sleep. Avoiding another day by the pool, it was time for Sam’s holiday shopping spree in Lolyvos. But not before a couple of lunch time Gyros from the little “Friends” takeaway and a swim in the noisy Olive Press hotel pool. Sipping mango juice on the promenade wall, house martins on power lines above me, I left Samantha to gather olive oil and ornaments; I instead attempted to catch fish using bread, salami and a small line I purchased — unsuccessfully I might add.

Not wanting to be disappointed by unavailable menu items, dinner at “The Octopus” came early — it’s the distinctive building on the corner in the harbour with the red shutters on its windows; sitting down to a pretty table for two beneath the parasols. AT LAST we found a place that offered AND had Zucchini pie, a delicious one to boot, with it we ate Taramasalata and crinkle cut chips. For mains we shared fresh red mullet, chosen from inside at €50 per kg, consuming five between us. Although Sam’s ongoing gut troubles / illness meant she couldn’t enjoy these to the fullest. So much so we paid a visit to the pharmacist on the way home, for advice and medicines.

* Looks like in-flight lunch is coming *

Properly prepped with an early night, Tuesday brought us into the day fresh and alive enough to attempt the coastal walk to Skala Sikiminea, home of the Mermaid Madonna, via Eftalou. We set out early to avoid the afternoon heats, confronting the blustery coastal winds at 9:00am. At the hot springs a kind dutch lady pointed us towards a dirt track, pointing out that the beach path would be impassable because the tide was in.

As expected, the road is long and winding, dipping in land for swooping corners, sliding up and down as the coastal terrain changes — the walk is about 3 hours from Molyvos, affording the occasional chance to get a closer look at the flora and fauna, birds and the bees. Halfway along there is a small taverna for drinks — at which Sam unwisely decided was the time to satisfy her English-Black tea fix; instead she received an obscure Cinnamon/lemon and very weak concoction — “eugh”, I did warn her. We ended up sharing a bottle of coke.

Shortly thereafter, with some further up and downs, we reached the very small coastal village of Skala Sikiminea. Three tavernas (with parrot, lobster tanks and kittens in trees), two tourist shops selling jewelry, a small harbour and a church sitting on a small rocky outcrop. This church is meant to contain a depiction of the Virgin Mary as a mermaid — either it was hidden away or not there, but we couldn’t find it. For lunch we had the mixed warm mezes from “The Cuckoo Nest” which included bourekakia and tzatziki.

By the afternoon it was too hot to walk back, and expensive for a taxi — our aim was to hitch a boat ride back to Molyvos. Luckily for us, the charismatic and welcoming Captain Alex came to the rescue. By chance he was there to pick up a large group of Dutch tourists that had just happened to follow us on our walk; with space for two more on the boxes at the back of his glass bottomed boat, we hitched a ride for €10 each. Excellent. With Greek music playing we basked in the sun as we passed the sights again, sharing almond biscuits courtesy of Alex. In Molyvos we ate ice cream and walked back to our pool.

The evening brought us back to The Captain’s table, for house wine, spicy fried aubergine, olives and a Captain’s platter for two. Although Sam ended up with white wine spilt down her dress (which led to a courtesy glass and free Cinnamon dessert, on top of Ouzo and small jelly cubes). This was a beautiful evening with a fabulous meal — the calamari was divine, which we ate with Mackerel, Bream, Saddled Bream and a fish that sounded like “melina”, as part of the platter. Our unexpected dessert was the best we had eaten all holiday. Despite having one day left, this became our unofficial last romantic night in lesbos — we decided we couldn’t top it. We caught the bus back to the Sun Rise Hotel after a short chat with “Gomez”, the waiter neat the bus stop; we said our goodbyes and rode home to our room.

Wednesday seemed like a spare day, we’d achieved most of what we wanted to do, time to mop up the loose ends as it were. Sam paid a trip to the hot hot Eftalou springs with dips interspersed with a cooling sea swim — I plowed through 100 pages of my book. A word of warning — avoid the eateries here, we were subject to high prices and arrogant waiters, the food was equally horrid. To reset my pallet I swiftly purchased some delightful home made Baclava from the Women’s agricultural co-operative of Mithymna, and Fantastico provided another tasty tasty pork souvlaki — we just couldn’t get enough of them, they made a perfect lunch time snack.

Without wishing to taint our last evening, we chose a safe option on our last night — Lamb kleftiko and beef stifado from Tropicana, this time with a rose wine at Sam’s request. The friendly neighbourhood diners shared with us their stories of walks, snakes and visits to Petri. As our chairs wobbled on the cobbled floor, the debonair head waiter shared stories and engaged with everyone and the cute black and white dog made its hunger rounds amidst all the cats, we prepared to say goodbye to Lesbos. Waving goodbye with some night time photography and squinting to see the flashing light emitted from Ipsilou, miles away to the West.

We’re just crossing the English Channel now, and our ears are popping with the descent, and it seems a just place to wrap this up. I haven’t spoken much of today, a bus ride, a meal at a Taverna in Mitiline, nothing special.

That’s it then. Goodbye Lesbos and all the wonderful people there. Gomez, the Fantastico men, Stradis, Alex, the breakfast waiters, friendly English tourists, Molly’s bar, the helpful Avis man, Melinda and Co., the jester like waiter at Tropicana, the cats, the dogs, the house martins and bugs. The end.