Never Can Say Goodbye..

Don't you hate it, when you have got to get up... when you have got to pack, got to move?

I was like that this morning; especially knowing that we were going to be air con free for a whole flipping day - that distressed me no end.

But we packed, cleared the room and stowed our stuff at reception. We boarded our bikes for one last time and cycled down The hill and along the beach.... we parked up beside the boats and watched the coming and going... and weirdly bumped into ourselves, the Netherlands pair again from Last night.

Then we wandered round the marina - gazing in awe at all the sail boats - the majority of which were from Bodrum or Delaware.... explain that if you will?

Then we went for coffee and a sit in the shade.

Then a final mooch around the food market.

Then a final gaze in all the tat shops.

And a final look at the pretty expensive shops.

Then we cycled back... and wouldn't you believe it - i got a bloody flat at the bottom of the hill. I carried on cycling anyways - that was preferable to walking the hill in 45degrees.

We got the bikes back (it was only 200 yards).... and then walked the final 400
Yards... that had to be done in batches of 40 Steps.. tree shade to tree shade, resting by the wall. It was hard going. So much so that I has to rest up by sleeping for an hour on a sunbed under a tree when we got Back.

Then we had a burger and a drink, repacked
The case and waited for the bus. Luckily for
Us it arrived on time - and we were sat in the midst of an Italian group who spoke Loudly and animatedly the whole way to the airport - it sounded like the Fast Show live.... sorchio... boutrosboutros gallez - but with Italian words and not Spanish.

Then we arrived at the airport, and found queues at both doors.... then we found queues. Inside... and then they started organising us into nice queues which all
The british followed... and we watched in dismay as our new Italian friends, Walked past the queues and lifted the flimsy barriers and walked past 70 odd Folk to
The top of the queue- I reached out to complain to an airport organiser but he pointed to a newly opened gate and pushed me in the direction to the front and I lost all
Thought of the italianans because then i had to deal with over weight bag

Himself bravely repacked bag at desk in front of three millions people whilst i stood and held all stuff he unpacked. Good Job

Then we were sent to another queue to drop the bag; and then another queue for passport control - only to be told at passport control was the wrong queues and we were pointed to a queue which stretched from where we were to the other end of the airport - curling round its length twice.

We stood in that queue for ages along with other Brits .... yes it was a queue simply for
Brits; and eventually we got the front and were asked to stand aside for 4 wheel
Chair users and their extended family of 16 each.

And then, we all cheered loudly when a group at the front who had stood in line and gotten to the actual security were sent away - for being in wrong line... So long italians...... karma sucks.

Then we had to wait in cattle grid along with passengers from 8 other planes.

Then it was delayed, then it appeared Not.

Then we were made to queue to show
Our boarding pass, and moved onto walkway outside. Then across Walkway... and down flight of stairs.... first 40 Folk were pointed to plane and they crossed the 40ft to plane and then boarded..... then they stopped the rest of us... put us on a bus which was twenty feet the other side of stairs and bussed us forty feet.... leaving us
Twenty feet to walk to plane.... oh there were some vocally unhappy people; including one kid who had given up Crying and was just doing interval screaming. All
The way home. Vocal chords wrecked.

Then we got to GLasgow

Then the taxi said he was there

Then we got home (via very weird route)

And guess what?!!!!!


THE LEEKS HAVE GROWN!!!!!!!!!