Arrived back from Corfu late Friday night. It was a lovely hotel, the Greeks in Sidari were surprisingly friendly and laid back, considering they have had a season full of English tourists. Oliver enjoyed it. I, as usual, found myself longing for home after a few days. Many years ago (in the days of my first marriage) I used to holiday abroad often twice a year. I hated it - I hated the foreign-ness of being abroad, instead of being able to embrace the differences in culture and the absence of home-comforts, I found myself desperately homesick and weeping copiously. Then came Mark and the kids, and holidays in France, and I loved it - I NEVER felt homesick in France. We stayed with Mark's family too, in Tunisia and in Paris, and the Loire and I loved that - I NEVER longed for home so I thought I had outgrown the missing home thing.
But - weirdly, I struggled this time. It is the bareness and lack of familiar things I think in the apartment that did it. I love being with Mark and Oliver - there is no-one in the world I would rather spend time with, but - this time on holiday, I felt 'lost' in the evenings when our meal was finished and afraid of the 'emptiness' of returning to our apartment. Concerning for me.
Anyway - enough analysis - some pics -
This is Mark and Oliver on the boat we hired for an hour...and took back after 10 minutes because we felt seasick - 
Mark doing some early evening reading -
Oliver hopefully not reading Robert Goddard with Mark -
The view from our apartment -
And, to prove I was on holiday too...
No comments:
Post a Comment