the journey back from Ithaca begins

Stefano, an Italian friend who lives in Spain with his beautiful family has been given leave to visit and then accompany me part of the way back home.

We are catching the ionion pelagos from Ithaca port at 9.00am.

He has even taken out 1 million euro life assurance such is the concern. Tempted by a cheap entry level. Ai work out he will be paying over 100k euros premium a year by the time he is in his early 80’s. Urgh I think he is going to cancel it.

Assurance, insurance…muggers of the day light !! hours

All the packing , done the previous night the car is precariously loaded with in particular a picture of zanetos sold to an architect called Brian. Also Yorkshire brew, Oliver oil,Honey, trinkets.

I hope the painting gets back because it will have part funded this fun packed jaunt.

Having picked the car up when I recovered it 2 weeks ago it was washed and refuelled and working, but the fuel now costs 2.40 euros a liter for 95 petrol. I had left the Discovery for 3.5 months.. well done Land Rover !!

But Bloody Norah.. the Orange jerk in America is doing his best to screw everyone.

It’s impacting living costs on Ithaca with all the grocery’s, meals, everything costing more. I feel for the everyday person who have done nothing as jerk off does his best to ruin the world.

Anyhow Stefano has been running, making me feel even more unfit. I have a lazy left leg and I had contrasting prognosis.. the osteopath said to exercise it, the jewellery shop owner Demosthenes said it needed rest.

Mmm..anyhow on matters of health.

The wellndss retreat down the hill from where we stay in Lefki probably has USA guests paying 10k a week for soothing words and yoga.

We rejoice where we are staying, it costs less, has a better view and we go to Janetos which has blokes with beards and even men with what I call wank wagons ( only 2 you will be glad to hear).

Wank wagons are shiny 4 x 4 wagons ( Ford) which are driven by bald dick heads, they contrast greatly with the battered honest builders vans which have dirt and dents. They are Japanese or French vehicles.

Generally speaking the women on Ithaca for me are putting up with a lot. They work hard, bring up the children and are somewhat dutifully chained to the rock.

Maybe it’s the same the world over.

Janetos though works his socks off and as usual does his level best to serve up cocktails, coffees and god knows what which is good as the Savoy or the Cipriani in Venice.

This weird combination of qualities almost makes him a sort of mother Teresa, plato, titan mix… high praise indeed if a little mixed up !!

Anyhow waiting at the dockside as the boat approaches to head for Sami and Astakos.

My 4 by 4 which I even wonder if it is a wank wagon itself. No.. it is full of junk and pictures and I have a full head of hair ..

Anyhow a lady called Avril and her friend ask what David’s odyssey is… it is the heart of Ithaca symbol on the side of the car which has drawn them like moths to the flame.

I try to explain about the art, they then relate they have seen it at the mentor hotel.

Well that’s nice.

I explain that the tree picture could have sold to three people, but Stefano is going to buy it.

He likes the picture because the tree is part based on one by the pool at the villa.

I was told the tree was 2000 years old.

Definitely a tree of life.

Anyhow I drive the car on the ferry and meet an old friend from May.

It being an english car the opening does not suit the hard arse guy who loads the ship to breaking point.

I find it difficult to get out in May because I am put up against the bulk head.

Anyhow my friend from May does not want a repeat.

I don’t want this narrative to give you the feeling I am fixated by men’s wedding tackle .. but he had parked the car as I had before and had to extricate himself over the wide central consol.

He was not like the Swedish yoga lady from the retreat.

We exchanged a brief chat.. he did not want a repeat of the legs round his neck.

I therefore would be given a better spot under the stairs.

The overseer of this chap looked on concerned as his crew showed initiative. He gesticulated grasping his tackle and pointing to the door.

The grim pirate like Lego organiser smiled and put his thumbs up.

Conspiratorially I felt I was part of the salty crew who as previously noted might easily be in a real pirates of the Caribbean movie without make up.

I was reunited with Stefano.

We opened a flask of Yorkshire brew.

Stefano got a sticky croissant with a chocolate core and some Digestive biscuits.

We looked out on a bright beautiful blustery morning.

The sun dissapeared rather than glinting off the rust and paint of the battered ionion pelagos accouterments.

The blue plastic seats bit into my ample arse.

There was something perversely monk like about the feeling.. a plastic self fladgelation of the buttocks while eating a calorie filled bun which itself look like it was shitting itself as I attempted to break it in half to share it with Stefano.

‘Fancy that.. A croissant with a bottom and I was eating it’

Never had I thought that my journey back would conjure up such unsavoury thoughts.

Truly I must have gone mad in the last two weeks.

Anyhow the sun beat down and we headed on to Astakos on the Greek mainland.

David Jackson

09.10.2026