Goodbye, Crete! Hello,Quarantine!

After five idyllic days in Panormos we packed our bags for the final time, popped into the supermarket to buy bus tickets (who knew? Certainly not us) and ordered a final frappe in the village square before catching the 10.30 am service to Rethymno. The coastal bus calls at several tourist resorts on its way into town and twenty minutes into our journey it was standing room only, the first time we'd been in a crowd since Mumbai. Fortunately we had seats and as everyone was masked-up and facing away from us we didn't feel unduly worried.

At Rethymno we bought tickets for the bus to Chania and sat in the sunshine awaiting its arrival. A little over an hour later and we were back in our new favourite city. We didn't need to be at the airport until the evening so bought tickets for a later bus, deposited our bags in the left luggage locker and spent a happy five hours reacquainting ourselves with the city.

It was crazy hot in Chania for our final day, the digital sign at the bus station registered 38°C, unusually high for late September. We took shade under the ancient plane tree in the town square, Platia 1821 (named to commemorate the year a rebellious priest was hung here). The salad we'd shared a week previously was the best we'd ever had and we decided we needed to repeat the experience, along with an ice cold Mythos and a basket of bread. Unfortunately the taverna's sign was in Greek so I can't share the establishment's name but it's painted sage green and the complimentary watermelon raki, beetroot & garlic butter and salted chocolate fudge brownies are sublime.

We visited Chania's Maritime Museum although it was so hot in there with our masks and a few shots of raki coursing through our veins that we had to keep abandoning the exhibits to stand under the fans.

After a joyful afternoon of exploring we made our way back to the bus station, collected our belongings and boarded the bus to the airport.

Remember the thorough inspection of our passenger location forms (PLF) on our departure from Birmingham airport, how a man without a code was barred from boarding the flight and how the armed police in Greece checked our forms against our passports before we were permitted to leave Chania airport? Forty-eight hours before our flight home Jon spent an age downloading & completing the PLF forms ready for our return, with the UK government website declaring that Failure to do so is a criminal offence, he didn't want to make any mistakes. At check-in, at passport control & in the departure lounge nobody checked if we had them although, just before disembarking the plane, the steward reminded passengers that it is mandatory for anyone returning to the UK to fill in a PLF form and that all arrivals from Crete must quarantine for a period of two weeks.

Back in the UK and nobody at Birmingham airport checked that anyone on our flight had completed a PLF form. 

The UK government website warned that: When you arrive in the UK, you must travel directly to the place you are staying and not leave until 14 days have passed. You must stay away from others. You should not have visitors, including friends and family.

You cannot go out to work or school or visit public areas. You should not go shopping. You can have food and other necessities delivered. You cannot leave your home to walk your dog, you must only exercise within your home and garden.

In England, if you do not self-isolate, you can receive a fixed penalty notice of £1,000. If you do not provide an accurate contact detail declaration you can be fined up to £3,200.

Prior to departure several passengers phoned friends and family back in the UK to arrange meet-ups in the pub or to invite them round for lunch. One man called a friend to ask what they'd like him to get in Aldi when he went shopping in the morning. Numerous people called relatives to check they'd be picking them up from the airport. 

We haven't ventured further than the garden gate since we returned to the UK. No official has called, emailed us or visited to check that we're adhering to the rules. 

I don't consider us to be a Covid risk. Looking at the alarming rise in cases in and around the West Midlands we were a lot less likely to contract the dreaded virus in Crete than at home BUT rules are rules and our government are deluded if they think that they can rely on the public to do the right thing without policing them. Judging by the plans of the passengers on our flight we're probably two of only a handful of travellers bothering to quarantine. 

A sign of the times... some filthy little bastard has just abandoned this in the middle of the avenue. Dare I risk breaking the law by venturing outside the garden gate to retrieve it?

Anyway talking of quarantine, on Sunday 11th October we can leave the house - we've got FREEDOM in green highlighter scrawled across the kitchen calendar. Since we've been in isolation life continues pretty much as normal, starting with a Wii Fit workout and fruit & yogurt for breakfast and ending with us and the lads all squashed up in bed together. The only pain about not being allowed out is when you run out of something and can't pop out for a replacement, like milk for instance, but black coffee is a small price to pay after eleven wonderful days in Crete.

We had a couple of gorgeously warm & sunny days when we got back in which we managed to tidy up the garden, line-dry the holiday washing, sort out the greenhouse and top up the tan. Sadly the weather went downhill from there, cooling down significantly and subjecting us to hours of torrential rain in the form of Storm Alex over the weekend. Jacob's already in hibernation, tucked away in a box under the broom cupboard in the utility room.

I took the change in weather as my cue to sort out my wardrobe, packing the halternecks, bikinis and sundresses back in the suitcase under the bed. The peep-toe clogs and sandals have been substituted with boots. I don't have many Winter-specific clothes and the flamboyant maxis I usually wear to vintage fairs and the pub I suspect aren't going to see the light of the day for a while (the events we did have booked for the Autumn have all cancelled) so I've kept them packed away meaning my wardrobes are the emptiest they've been in years.

I'm not one for woolly jumpers, cardis or knitwear and try to leave off wearing the dreaded tights until my legs are on the point of turning blue, for me cooler weather dressing means piling on the layers or wearing a coat. Today I'm wearing a 1970s Anokhi pinafore dress, a vintage embroidered Afghan blouse by Janet Wood for Monsoon and my long-line 1980s Anokhi waistcoat with some sock boots bought from TopShop's sale several years ago. I don't normally wear a hat in the house, I needed to keep my hair dry when I popped to the recycling bin earlier.

It was so cold at one point last week that we had to light the fire, much to Stephen's delight. Jon's chainsaw had given up the ghost a while ago but he found a tutorial on YouTube and spent an afternoon repairing it at the kitchen table.

With Stephen hogging the fire, Frank had to make do with snuggling up next to the computer for warmth - although I suspect he's doing it to stop me searching for flights back to Greece!

What else have we up been up to? We've had two food deliveries from Asda (now back under British ownership), one last Sunday and another just before 8am this morning. We had to declare that we were quarantining when we placed the order to keep the delivery drivers safe.  Tony did a milk run for us on his way back from work, leaving the bottles on the step.

Jon's been baking bread and Ray, our neighbour, brought round a homemade sun-dried tomato sourdough loaf first thing this morning. I've a glut of green tomatoes than I was hoping to turn into chutney but Asda had run out of pickling vinegar so it'll have to wait until we can get down to Johal's next week.

I'm a couple of chapters off finishing my latest read, The King's Witch, a gripping historical novel centred around the Gunpowder Plot and with lots of references to local stately homes including Coombe Abbey, Kenilworth Castle and Coughton Court which we visited back in July (HERE). I didn't do much reading in Crete until we reached Panormos, devouring five books in as many days.

The Fourth Passenger by Mini Nair
Midnight Blue by Simone van der Vlugt
Erotic Stories for Punjabi Widows by Balli Kaur Jaswal
The Ministry of Utmost Happiness by Arundhati Roy
The Cairo Diary by Maxim Chattam

I'm wearing Barry M's Rock Pool this week on my fingernails. I removed the paint on my toenails for the final time last night, they'll be bare until the Spring or until I get sick of the sight of their nakedness. 

TV-wise, we loved series two of Mystery Road (if you haven't seen this phenomenal Australian thriller you really ought to, both series are currently on the BBC i-player as well as the film, Goldstone* also starring the brooding detective Jay Swan).  We also enjoyed the three part documentary, Britain's Biggest Dig, where in preparation for the controversial HS2 project, the biggest ever cemetery excavation to take place in the UK reveals the secrets of two burial sites in London and Birmingham. As we've watched almost everything on Walter Presents, Channel Four's European thriller channel, we've decided to rewatch Spooks, the BBC's fantastic spy drama that kept us gripped for almost 10 years.

*Thanks to Facebook friend, Lisa for letting me know!

The plan for this week, should it ever stop raining, is to take down The Egg and to sort out the area of the patio by the Wall of Mirrors where we're planning to create a cosy shelter nearer the house for the winter. As we live in a conservation area it can only be a temporary structure, we don't want to incur the wrath of the council. Unlike much of the West Midlands, residents of Walsall are still allowed to entertain visitors in their gardens, something we fully intend to take advantage of once our quarantine is over.

Take care, stay safe and see you soon!