A SINGLETON ON LESBOS ISLAND - Part 1

With no mates knocking about for a week’s holiday, which normally goes something like having a laugh, drinking beer, and chasing girls. It was all down to me, Billie no mates, or as I called myself, Billie Big Bananas.

The adventure started with me trawling the internet, and booking a week’s all inclusive activity holiday on the intriguing sounding Island of Lesbos. One of the many Greek Islands, but unlike the others, could be filled with lesbians. Well in my warped mind anyway!

Going solo on a week’s Mediterranean activity holiday, became one of the many weird and wonderful experiences that has made up my life so far. At the age of thirty, with all the wisdom of human behaviour, the ways of the world, plus that special knowledge that I am always right. Whilst the rest of the world took the view I know diddley doo about dog’s poo, I headed to Lesbo land.

With “Yesterday is history, Lesbos a mystery,” running through my head, I arrived at the airport and started reminiscing about what my mum said to me years ago, when I was going on my first holiday alone. “Don’t smoke, don’t drink and leave the girls alone; Oh and have a good time!” Well on Lesbo Island the last rule might be a challenge to break.

Once aboard the plane I found myself sitting next to the Right Reverend Bob, who was happy to tell me what a special place Lesbos was for birds, I’m thinking bring it on, preach to the apprentice. In a very short period of time, the very polite reverend was indeed telling me what an amazing place Lesbos was for wild birds, and he and his chums were very excited about their twitchering holiday, but I was after wild birds of a different kind.

Two hours later, I was queuing for the transfer coach, when I noticed what was printed on the back of Bob’s shirt, “In god I trust, every one else can F*** their self’s.” As I was laughing out loud, a Pippa Middleton looky likey, her royal bumness who was by the side of me, saw what I was looking at and laughed along.

We started chatting and ended up sitting on the coach together. With the sun shining through the window radiating her elegant face, and lighting up her beautiful long golden hair, she was looking well lush. It was then like the good reverend, I realised that there was a God.

She started telling me, “She, had just finished training as a doctor, and was on a week’s holiday, before starting her new job at the Cardiothoracic Hospital in London.” I told her, “I am on Lesbos Island to check out the Lesbians,” which made her laugh. Approaching the resort, we arranged to meet up that night for are evening meal. Looking good, feeling good!

Once at the resort we were offered drinks in the courtyard, where a resort rep explained all the different activities available for the week. I booked myself onto a week’s level two sailing course, no need to start with the entry level one, I’ve seen people sail boats from the Isle of Wight ferry, there’s nothing to it. Continued to book some mountain biking, although my holiday insurance did not cover me and we are in the middle of nowhere, and left the gay lesbo tennis well alone.

After leaving the rep, I did my hunter gatherer bloke thing, and picked up a slab of beer from the shop for the fridge in my room, which was going to be my man cave for the week, and decided to pick up some water next time.

At seven that evening we made our way to the terrace restaurant for some alfresco dining, or what my mum calls al denta dining for some reason. There we sat talking over a leisurely meal, with the fragrance from nearby lemon groves in the warm breeze, a spectacular sunset in the background and the doctor being such lovely company, it made for an enchanting night. At the end of the meal, she said, “She was feeling tired having been travelling all day, and was having an early night.” We agreed to meet up soon, and kissed each other on the cheek as we went our separate ways, I retired to the bar.

Whilst nursing my second larger, a group of twelve turned up, a mixture of guys and girls. They looked like they had been drinking else where, as they were in a party mood. While they ordered a round of drinks, one of the girls with a rather large chest, wearing a tee shirt saying, “Is that a canoe in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?” printed on the back, started chatting to me. She was told me, “We all belong to the same canoeing club in Dublin, and are out here for some canoeing, and the craic.”

She asked me what I was up to, I replied “I was bird watching,” she came back with, “You not checking out the lesbians then,” which made us laugh. At the end of the night, after having a good craic with Canoe Girl, and the rest of the group, and having far more lagers than were good for us, we said our good byes. As I was leaving they said, “We are on a canoeing expedition around the island in the morning, and would I like to join us?” To which I replied, “Sounds like a good idea.”