It was two in the morning and I was pretty fucking tired as I plodded along the coastal road to Corfu town. The backpack straps had been digging into my shoulders for ages and were starting to sting . It’d taken me over three hours to walk here from Ipsos and I was finding the lack of beaches to sleep on along the coast depressing. An odd rickety boat would catch my eye, strung up to a makeshift jetty, jutting out into the still night water. Should I attempt to crash out in one? I rambled through an overgrown hedge to take a quick peek. The damp floor, mouldy nets and rusty pile of chains aboard told me I’d be better off trying to sneak into one of the more luxurious yachts moored in the posh harbour (but that was way back up the road and I’d happily marched past it confident there would be a sandy beach I could pass out on). I had past the last beach at Dassia a good ten Kilometres back and from here on in the coast seemed to be all jagged rocks and undergrowth. My last three cans of Mythos lager had gone warm. I dumped my stuff in a bus shelter, sat down on the rusty bench and started to neck one. “I should have stayed in the doorway of that abandoned church an hour back up the road,” I thought to myself, recalling the uncomfortable mossy step I’d reclined upon with its panoramic view of the sea. My virgin homeless arse had figured there’d be an abundance of places I could get my head down, peacefully sleeping in one of a million idyllic spots, underneath the starry blanket whilst the salt air filled my lungs. There were plenty of roadside bushes but, despite the inviting dense shrubbery, I’d already seen too many snakes to make that a viable option.  I slowly plodded past a yard full of speedboats in storage. The guard dog went mental when  I attempted to have a look in one for a bed so, unwanted even by that mangy creature, I slowly walked on.

Dramatic arguments with psychotic women can have dire consequences, as if I didn’t know this already.

As the night progressed the breeze became sharp and chilly. I walked on, stopping every half an hour or so to dump my heavy load, take a breather and rub my shoulders. I’d about worn a hole in the sole of my battered Indian Addidas when a glimmer of hope appeared, softly casting an oblique ray down upon me from the starry heavens above.  A huge billboard sign attached to the back of a truck, parked up in a lay-by, caught my miserable eye. It was advertising a cruise and had a huge picture of a tanned Greek guy kissing a seal upon it. Behind the sign was a raised metallic platform. Result! I climbed upon it and attempted to sleep using my laptop case as a pillow . A stagnant pool of water nearby supplied the mosquitoes, which conveniently buzzed loudly in my ear every time I was about to drift off. When it got too cold I quickly necked the last two cans of beer in the hope the alcohol would internally warm me and perhaps numb my tiny mind. It sort of worked. The cold metal platform chilled me to the bone as I rolled around trying to get comfortable, and I sporadically drifted in and out of a troubled sleep.

Living rough had its charms I’d supposed; olive trees, lemon groves, vineyards, peach trees, vegetable gardens, wild mulberry bushes, Grecian nature in all it’s abundance meant I wouldn’t have to starve. I could bathe in the Ionion sea, spend my days soaking up the sun and at nights sleep behind a sign next to the noisy coastal road freezing my bollocks off. Hmm…I think not.  As dawn approached the sky became blue and purple . The vivid orange outline of the sun could be seen slowly rising from behind a dark cloud that spanned the eastern sky. A couple of swallows happily drank from the muddy puddle I’d been pissing into. They chirped merrily and flew off towards the sunrise.  The walk back to Ipsos the next morning, on blistered feet, exhausted, with my tail between my legs and the hot sun beating on my back seemed to take forever and took everything I had left. I could only hope that the annoying  woman would be waiting for me with open arms…..