Two French guys put up their one man tent next to ours. After they’d set up we followed them onto the beach and watched them play frisbee – naked.
“They’re fit as fuck” Marni said.
“Posers.” I said. Their frisbee throwing was way too impressive.
Clothed and back at camp, Marni and I became more acquainted with our new French olive grove campers.
Freddy was black and Yvon looked like he was black but wasn’t, it was just the tan. I told Marni I was happy with Yvon and she was happy with Freddy because she’d never been to bed with a black man and because I’d been to bed with Rasta man (No. 52) it seemed only right and proper for her to have Freddy and me to have Yvon. We split off into couples and enjoyed an afternoon of sun, sea and sex, what we soon learned was a typical Pelekas day for all campers.
A few days later Wand (our newly shortened version of the Wicked Wanderer Les), having lost our interest, was busy helping two Belgium girls put up a larger, more sophisticated tent opposite ours. Marni, me, Yvon, Freddy, Les and the Belgium girls stayed down the beach, settling in the taverna for a cosy evening of Metaxa and chocolate milk.
Marni and I were surviving on a small amount of cash that we kept hidden underneath our tent. We were going without proper meals to save money for booze and had eaten some sunflower seeds mixed with Marmite (a speciality makeshift MS dish I had bought from England, it would survive the heat – in fact the hotter it got, the runnier the Marmite – yum).
In the taverna we watched Freddy, Yvon and the Belgium girls tuck into feasts of spaghetti bolognaise with Greek salad, tzatziki and baskets of fresh, crusty bread. We never saw Wand eat much, he bought bread and cheese from the shop and we’d seen him sitting outside his tent eating baked beans from a can with my plastic spoon from the plane, we knew he didn’t go hungry.
“Can we have your leftovers?” Marni’s tongue was hanging out. The French guys pushed their plates over and Marni and I ate theirs and the Belgium’s left overs. We scavenged left over crusts of pizza and drinks from other tables as campers turned in for the night.
Five or six Greek guy’s sat huddled together on the table furthest from us, they leant over a ghetto blaster. I thought I could hear them playing Butthole Surfer’s (one of our stolen tapes) but kept the thought to myself, the taverna was now closed. Wand and the Belguim girls had gone back to camp and Freddy and Yvon had upped and left too for no reason.
“Shall we sleep in our tent tonight?” I asked Marni.
“Yeah, theirs is too tiny.”
Their tent was also claustrophobic with large back packs of camping gear cluttering it. Marni and I had argued who would go in which tent and after a few nights of negotiations between our foursome it seemed easier and more comfortable to sleep back together. We’d had lots of sex that day, we could have more the next – at this point comfort came before sex.
“They’ve all gone into Corfu town” Wand said when we emerged from the tent the next afternoon. “Do you want some melon? Yvon and Freddy left it.”“They gone with the Belgium girls?” Marni asked.
“Umm . Umm. Think so” said a stoned Wand.
“They’re after them now, twats.” I said, I was pissed off with the rejection but the frisbee posing was wearing thin and I was fancying new campers on the beach that had bamboo huts.
Appetite whetted from the melon, Marni walked round the back of our tent to dig up the small amount of drachmas she’d buried for us to get some food.
“It’s fucking gone Liz”
“No way” I said. The only people who knew where our money was were Freddy, Yvon and Wand. It wasn’t Wand, he’d been too generous and loyal to us.
“Fuck sake, we were scrounging from their plates last night and it was our fucking food, our fucking money.. bastards…” Marni was fuming. I was fuming. Wand smiled emphatically, he’d got our attention from the previous theft and could help us again.
“Bastards” I searched the tent just in case she’d got the money out in a drunken haze last night. But no, it had gone.
“Want a beer?” Wand said and we followed him back into the taverna before the three of us walked up to the village to sort out cash.
We never saw Freddy and Yvon again. They stole from the Belgium girls whilst in town and were caught by the police.
“We’ll have this lot” said Marni, delving in their tent, pulling out equipment to make a kitchen with. We took their sleeping bags too, our pink floral sheets were warm but the ground hard, they made good mattresses.
“We can rent the tent out to anyone we fancy” Marni said.
When the Belgium girls returned to camp we gave them no sympathy. They shouldn’t have gone off with our lovers, they’d got their money back anyhow. They left the next day and a new bus load of interrailers arrived.