Saturday, July 9

Double Oh Seven - Oh No

I know a lady who wants to be very friendly with me. Saucy friendly. She has a wild imagination, which could be interesting for me if I could be more interested in her. She wonders why I am here. (Like I sometimes do).

But her answer is more interesting than mine.
She believes (yes, really believes!) that there's only one explanation as to why an englishman would come to The Village, live in privacy in a large house surrounded by high walls, overlooking the Aegean coastline facing Turkey, keep his own counsel, take on a girlfriend he can't communicate with, have a satellite dish on the roof, and drink Martini (I do, really, I do).

According to her I'm an english spy. How obvious. Passing plane movements to M16. As you do. And here I was thinking I was just a boring, middle-aged, fart.


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