We continued down the coast and past our ultimate destination of Monastery Bay and on towards a lunchtime anchorage we’ve named Crowded Bay. Should have named it ‘Twats In Motorboats’ Bay. Basically it was carnage, with everyone dropping their anchor wherever they wanted. Extra points were awarded for laying one’s chain over another.
The first night of the rally was pirate-themed, hence the eye-shadow. Somewhere in my tiny brain I thought perhaps I bore a vague resemblance to Johnny Depp in ‘Pirates…’, but then I do have to keep reminding myself that he’s not a fat ****, so I just ended up looking like a gay English lout.
I’m not entirely sure why this happened: when the depth is over 100m the gauge normally just shows ‘—m’. I’ve never seen it show a reading like that before and I can only assume it was a shoal of fish, or one big fish, attracted by the sound of the boat’s chugging, monotone engine. Either that or a Turkish submarine was f***ing with us.
As sure as eggs is eggs after WWI, when the Young Turks had foolishly backed the wrong side and lost, the Brits took total control of this strategically important piece of land, and in 1925 Britain formerly declared the island a crown colony. There was much dancing and celebrating in the street at this turn of events (I jest). This is an excerpt from Liz’s excellent introduction to Cyprus.
Cyprus: Brits abroad? Raving to garridge in Aya Napa? Thronging beaches marauded by decapod-crustacean-skinned Essex girls? A fat, besmirched whore of a destination, over-pimped, blighted and past her sell-by date.
The further east we travel the happier I am. It’s so much more “Turkish”, if you know what I mean, much less “Cowes à la Turk”. I have to agree with them, though, it is very hot here. All of us have become quite lethargic and have found it more and more difficult to get motivated. One night when we were anchored just outside Kas (pronounced “cash”) I decided to liven us all up a bit.
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