Island time is learned. And there is no use fighting it.
Thankfully we have a Frenchman, Ludovic, in our party who seems to be born to this.
We are sat out on the front yard of a restaurant in Milliopotamus on the Attica island of Kythira, an hour’s fliight from Athens.
Waiting for our dinner.
Ludovic, who has been holding us up all trip, setting up his tripod to take pictures is laughing it off now at table.
Tapping at his pipe and shrugging Gallically.
We have had to postpone our trip to the waterfall by the village until this morning because it has got too dark.
Ludovic had to buy the whole supply of Poke Mon stickers in a souvenir shop in Choura for his son.
They are €1.20 here as opposed to €5 in France.
We are set under what we hope are vine trees beside a Greek Orthodox church. And praying dinner will come soon.
But we have the best company, Dutch, Belgian, German, French, Irish-Scors and, of course, Greek.
The Mayor no less, our group hosts, and a little ginger friend for cuddles… don’t tell the wife.
We are drinking fatourade, a spicy warming local liquor which the restaurant has kindly brought a couple of mini-carafes of.
To warm us as Kythera cools. It is 8pm. Or whatever time the Gods have on that big egg-timer they have on Mount Olympus.
When our meal comes an hour later it is worth waiting for, Greek salads, of course, and a new one for me here spinach pie.
I need the Popeye strength.
And a lamb which has been working out too… it’s huge.
All lubricated with vino, although in the dying light the third carafe of red looked pink.
St John the Evangelist was thrown off the island we are told earlier in the day.
I fear Ludovic will have us expelled too.
And the hotel with the best views of Chora Castle www.elsolhotel.gr/en/