Parting is such sweet sorrow.

(Apologies to Juliet and Mr Shakespeare).

As you may know or not, I’ve just been on an idyllic holiday in Crete. There all the advantages that you can find on that Island, that stand out from the UK.  Sun, warm sea, good inexpensive food, and the best of all. Negligible smoking regulations.

The Greek government might have brought in laws, but the general population have just ignored them. It was wonderful just being able to sit in a bar and light up when you felt the need. ASH should take note. I actually smoked less as I felt no need to try and fit a quick fag in between venues.

There was only one bar that we visited which had any sort of regulation sign showing. In this taverna there were signs stating “No smoking beyond this point”. This was obviously just for show, as on putting my cigs and lighter on the table behind me, the next thing I heard was a muffled clunk. Turning round I perceived that the waitress had just left me an ashtray.

The beauty of it was there was no one in any of the bars or restaurants that did the antismoking faux pas coughing or hand waving that is seen in the UK. If only the British pubs and clubs could mobilise together to stick two fingers up to the jobworths  who infest our sceptred Isle. (Sorry again Will. From Richard II, Act 2).

Fuck me. I’ll be writing poetry next. Oh dear. I already have in my last post. Bugger. I need to slowly recover from a surfeit of retsina and metaxa. I may recover.