Harry Kane, James Bond and Prince Philip... (Corfu Town)

 

On the boat, days (sometimes even weeks) can go by with not much happening. The last few days, whilst not exactly action packed, have at least given me something to write about.

Let’s start with two nights ago: no wind forecast turned into a vicious howling, rattle the rigging all night blow. Not much more to say about that other than it’s really not very nice.

Waking from what little sleep we did manage, bleary eyed we headed off into town to visit the local market. Expecting tourist tat: T-shirts, fridge magnets, shot glasses and the like, I was presently surprised to find an open air market with only two types of stalls. Firstly, fruit and veg - with a wide variety of Mediterranean faire . All very fresh and well presented, and presided over by smiling helpful stall holders. The second type: fishmongers - again all stocked with a wide variety of well presented stock, and judging from the lack of smell, all quite fresh from the sea. Along with our fruit and veg choices, we opted for some good looking tuna steaks and fresh anchovies in spiced oil. Ladened with all our goodies we headed back to the boat.

We’d spotted a bar suitable for our evening’s entertainment on the way back - the aptly named ‘Wembley Sports bar’. This is where we will be headed in the hope of witnessing another England football victory... but deep down expecting a heartbreaking penalty shootout!

Spent the rest of the day relaxing and occasionally swimming, dined on the tuna ( marinated in soy, ginger and garlic then pan fried, served with new potatoes and coleslaw - Yum! ).

Arrived early at the bar - the previous game still underway, with the red shirted Danes still there in force.

We strolled round the block, by which time the Danes had downed drinks, finalised their celebrations and left. We then had the choice of all the seats and two large TVs. We seemed to have options galore, but with a few tables and chairs already reserved, and a rapid influx of people, we needed to quickly stake our claim, which we did and settled in for the night.

We were soon joined tightly on all sides, our closest neighbours being a group of ten friendly and well spoken Londoners out on the first day of their holiday.

Well - I’m no sports reporter, but 4 spectacular unanswered goals later, the game came to close with an emphatic victory for England. This was jubilantly celebrated by all in the bar... all that is except for the Ukrainian man who’d decided to bring his wife and two children in at half time to watch the show unfold. The wife had left after 10mins, and neither child glanced up from their phone throughout. Some sort of self inflicted sadistic glue kept him stuck to the chair, with eyes locked on the screen throughout the (for him) awful spectacle.

Bidding fond goodbyes to the group we’d been sat next to - who’d become more and more amicable and vocal throughout the game after each subsequent tray of shots they ordered were sunk.

Leaving them, and their upcoming day-2 holiday hangovers, we headed off back down towards the water.

Clearly visible from the boat is the Corfu Casino - not wanting to call it a night just yet, we made our way there for a look see.

You enter through the foyer of what must once have been a grand hotel - this now has a somewhat tired feel. It’s brass could do with a polish, and the marble could do with a dust.

We presented the required photo IDs - The pair behind the counter began laughing at the size of my poorly photoshopped head on my Greek residency card, so instead I ended up using my New South Wales Forklift licence to gain entry!

Once checked in, our temperatures were taken with a device like a barcode scanner pointed at our foreheads. Deemed cool enough to enter we headed down some carpeted stairs to the gaming lounge.

This casino had appeared in the Roger Moore bond film ‘For your eyes only’.... so I was expecting a clientele of tux wearing secret agents, a few countessas and perhaps a swarthy man or two wearing a fez. The actual real life occupants were a sad bunch of middle aged paunchy men slowly and morosely feeding the row after row of flashy fruit machines. We collected our ‘first time visitor’ complimentary drinks from the bar and ventured further in towards the gaming tables: 5 card stud, Blackjack and Roulette were underway. Not actually keen to lose any money, we watched a few hands and spins here and there, then wandered aimlessly taking it all in. At one point I made the mistake of walking around an unused roulette table with an ‘out of order’ sign on it. Fascinated by the engineering side of how it all worked, I was taking a good look, when I was jostled by a suited and black masked security guard. In broken English I was gruffly told that I should not be doing whatever I was doing and firmly guided back into the more acceptable area, I was then handed off to a smiling Glaswegian pit boss (supervisor), with whom I chatted politely for a minute or so. Although the talk was civilised, and the smile was fixed in place, there was something about his sheeny nylon suit and cold shark eyes that hinted that I could be down in the basement tied to a chair getting a wee slap in nay time at all!

Continuing our leisurely stroll around the floor, I realised we’d picked up a tail - and from then until we left we were shadowed like suspected shoplifting teenagers by one or more of the black masked security team.

We finished our drinks and left there around midnight, took the tender back to the boat to sleep.

Waking this morning, to another flat calm sunny day, we breakfasted on coffee and pancakes then headed off to find the birthplace of Prince Philip - a local landmark, and the summer residence of the Greek monarchy... Well...it was until 1967 when they were overthrown by a coup and fled the country. It was here apparently that Prince Philip was either born or conceived on the kitchen table (can’t remember which).

It turned out to be just a short walk along the coast then up through an overgrown park of shady trees to the house. It has the look of a grand old colonial embassy used for entertaining, with a turnaround for carriages out front and an impressive columned facade to greet guests. It seems the upkeep hasn’t been of the highest priority since the coup, with chipped paint on the walls and shutters, and overgrown mossy paths. That all said - its location and the view through the trees that surround the house to the sea below was lovely.

We didn’t stay long - the temperature steadily creeping up into the now common mid 30s. Headed home for more cold drinks and swims.