The Leaving of Manchester

After a night with a friend in Glasgow, Tim and I entrained for Manchester Airport, which was as miserable as you'd expect! I suspect that 'The Leaving of Liverpool' might have been much more spectacular! Our aircraft was an hour and a half late in arriving, due, we were told, to the late departure of the aircraft from Gatwick, due no doubt to the late departure of the aircraft from Heraklion, due to . . . . . . . . . .  OK, you probably get the drift! 

The lucky passengers who had boarded at Gatwick were treated to a free ride NW to Manchester before turning around to head SE for the flight to Crete. I'm sure there was a reason. 

We landed at Heraklion in the dark and boarded the bus to take us to the Bali Paradise Hotel some miles along the coast to the east. It wasn't the sort of holiday Mrs M and I would normally go for, preferring to hire an apartment and a car and do our own thing, but in 'winter', as we were constantly told it was, it was comparatively quiet and no deck chairs and umbrellas littered the poolside. I'd agreed to join my friend as he would otherwise have gone on his own, but the  prolixity of the tour guide, a Turkish Cypriot by the name of Utku, and the number of visits to 'retail outlets' on the itinerary, quickly made me somewhat dubious as to the success of the holiday!

On the other hand, the number of feral cats roaming about the grounds was a good sign - we had the same experience some years ago in Cyprus. I made myself popular/unpopular by buying some cat treats, and found myself sitting on a step outside the hotel surrounded by fifteen hungry moggies!

After a buffet meal we were shown to our room in one of the free-standing accommodation blocks, sorry the 'village-style complex'!