You Pay You Pay Unexpected Kostas

Late to breakfast today which meant we could easily find a table and watch the white-skinned Newbie intake who had arrived on the late flight, hah, what amateurs.
So I secured a sunbed on Pool 2 and we brought the rubber ring and some guns and did watery horseplay for ages. I decamped to the Pirate Pool and shot some more new friends and then one of them spanked Bud's bum which was truly deserved but he got a big telling off from his Dad which wasn't.
Today's deaths were Bud's mask/snorkel set and a second watergun, may they be landfill in peace. Afterwards we pottered off to the local sandy beach, only a few hundred yards west of the hotel.

We passed a splendid example of classical Greek architecture which sporadically dots the countryside from towns to deserted hilltops. The concrete frame is finished, but nothing else. This particular skeletal erection stands in half an acre of desert and is currently home to 5 stray dogs.
There were rockpools and waves and seaweed and topless sunbathers and then a man ran out and said You Pay You Pay so we argued about whether we were going to stay stay and pay pay and I griped about my personal rash for the 100th time and Jof got angry and left us to it, with just 5 Euros to pay Unexpected Kostas the Youpayman.
As it happened we bobbed up and down in the surf for ages and got stones in our shoes and I walked back home like someone who really needs to visit the GUM clinic. Kostas never asked again, so we didn't pay.
On the way back we popped into the seafront church. It's clearly new, nothing historic here. But the Greek Orthodoxy love a bit of colour, gold spangly dangly things and spectacle so I investigated behind the priest-only swinging doors, why not.
Back at the ranch, I applied E45 cream to my Gentleman's area and sat quietly which is exceedingly rare for me.
Today is our last full day here so we took our stash of Roubles, Shekels and Groats and visited the 2 bizarre Bazaars adjacent to the hotel. Both have uninspiring low-quality exteriors, gaily bedecked with blow-up dolphins etc but once inside, they go a long way back and are welcomingly air-conditioned Caves of Aladdin.
I got 3 Cretoid fridge magnets and a motorbike made out of scrap metal. I also loved the metal skull and gun section but they all turned out to be cigarette lighters, and I hated the attractive seashell section because it was topped with dried inflated puffer fish, that's an airplane cabin weapon they haven't put on the proscribed list.
Bud got 7 bottles of unpronounceable booze, we only have visual clues on 3 of them which may (or may not be) honey, melon and kumquats, there's a 4-candles joke if ever I saw one.
There was a complete display rack of wooden and metal carved willies. I don't know what this says about Greek men.
Jof bought me brightly coloured T-shirts but then also got lots of pointless plates, dishes, jars and ornaments together with luxury olive oil and anti-rash cream which stung severely when applied to my nether regions which Bud did while I read a book. Packing is going to be interesting.
Supper was not exactly Cret-a-manger with further arguments about food groups. As per before, I arrive at table with pizza and spaghetti, Bud says try again, I go back for something different and after extreme culinary investigations, come back with spaghetti and pizza. This was when Jof bailed from the argument-storm and hid in reception.
We took her some stolen stollen and chocolate cake and witnessed part of the 'Miss Stella Beauty Contest 2015'. When Jof was 15 she entered the Miss Crete 1957 parade in which they had to put a giant nappy on a man, walk with books balanced on head etc. Tonight, they had to strut, work a chair in modelling stylee, and pose in various Playboy positions. Second act was 'Stella Bra-tography' in which they had to persuade as many brassieres as possible off the studio audience leaving many of them going Commandette.
The purloined pap-pouches were then scored by size so the lacier items from the friskier members were low-scoring whereas the pendulous reinforced granny-retainers and whalebone over-shoulder-boulder-holders were heavier-scoring.
But Bud had to retrieve Jof so I played manic run-around with Sam (5) and Tom (7) and various sisters, none of them mine. This, on a day when England bowled Australia out for 60 (Broad 8-15 off 9) was a fitting end to our Cretinoid shenanigans, I just hope our house is OK. Jof's phone does not work here so for all we know, Zoe is texting come home now, house burnt down.