I’m spending my last few days near Agioi Apostoloi, a couple of miles outside Chania, from where I’ve just returned after a hot round trip walk. On the way I took an early morning dip in the bay above and a second on my return. It was all part of a plan to cleanse myself of the price paid for the previous evening’s shenanigans.

I’m staying in an apartment, one of five in a small building in a beautiful garden down a quiet street from where you can hear the waves. It’s owned by a family, three generations of which live here too. There’s granny Zinovia and grandpa Kostas, Kostas junior and his wife Stella, and their two children, Haris and Zinovia junior, both in their early twenties.

Last night, or rather all afternoon, the senior and junior Zinovias, and Stella, cooked an enormous moussaka. Everyone staying was invited to join them to eat under a palm tree in their garden.

Kostas and Haris spent much of their day driving the few guests that they have to the supermarket, so they didn’t have to lug heavy loads of food back to their apartments. They took me too, and even picked me up from the bus station in Chania when I arrived from Anopolis.

As the feast began, Kostas junior took charge of an unlabelled bottle of raki close to the size of a champagne magnum. He regularly toured the table, apparently intent on draining it if the guests so wished. There was beer too and I and the other guests so wished and obliged. It turned into quite a Friday night.

As well as the family, around the table were a Swedish woman with her two kids, an Italian couple and their daughter, and a Russian Ukrainian couple, Uri and Natasha, beside whom I sat, the sole representative from Blighty. Uri and Eva were huge characters, entertaining us with a similarly sized knowledge of their countries’ histories.

I asked Uri, a nuclear physicist who lives in Moscow with Natasha, a university lecturer, if the Ukrainian side of their families were able to educate the Russian sides with information about ‘the special operation’. I was alluding to the fact that Russians only hear disinformation (i.e. lies), from their state-controlled media, and Uri laid his cards firmly on the table: ‘there is propaganda on both sides and the truth lies somewhere in the middle’. To me his response seemed to suggest an equal balance between Putin’s brutality towards Ukraine and his dishonesty to his own people, and the actions of the sovereign country he’s in the act of destroying.

None of the guests responded. I was itching to but didn’t and I suspect others may have shown the same restraint for similar reasons. It would have been a shame if the kindness shown by our hosts, who were evidently loving the get together, was fractured by one of us sparking an international incident.

I was surprised and confused though. Uri and Natasha both struck me as intelligent, engaging company. And I’d assumed that nuclear physicists were super intelligent, like the proverbial brain surgeon. I would have loved to continue the discussion to explore the rationale to his thinking. Perhaps I’d read too much into his response and further discussion would have enlightened me, but the moment passed for good reason, the raki and bonhomie flowed, and there were a few sore heads in the morning.

Agioi Apostolo has three beautiful coves, one awarded Blue Flag status, including the one where I swam. Of the criteria for the award, one is the provision of environmental educational activities, and here it’s all about loggerhead turtles. They have a low reproductive rate and so the sites where females come ashore at night to lay their eggs need looking after and are protected. They lay an average of four but then none for two or three years. People are therefore discouraged from visiting the beaches at night, as was the case in Rethymno, where the beach extends as far as the eye can see.

I’m confused though as to how the award can be bestowed upon beaches where the eggs are buried by night, but which come alive with sun seekers by day, such as in Rethymno, where there’s thumping disco music, sometimes well into the night, mile after mile of sun loungers and umbrellas atop the very sand under which eggs are incubating and hatchlings might be ready to emerge.

According to Wikipedia one of the threats to nesting habitats is human disturbance, which causes disorientation during the emergence of hatchlings. I can’t think how high volume euro disco music, jet skis and lots of people getting pissed above, where they’ll one day hatch, somehow manages to evade classification as human disturbance. Note to self: when home write to the Blue Flag people and ask.

Agioi Apostoloi’s shores are blessed with some fine, shady woodland that extends over a large area, the protection of which has ensured that development close to the shore has been averted. The picture below is of one of the many towering eucalyptus trees that have kept development at bay. On Sundays many locals arrive with blankets, chairs and chill boxes and lie in their shade.

Today, Monday, the forecast here is for temperatures of around 24°, while in Rethymno fires burn and elsewhere, in Portugal, Spain and France, forests are ablaze and thousands of people have been evacuated from their homes. The BBC website tells me that the UK is likely to have its hottest day ever this week, with temperatures forecast to hit 41°.

Against this backdrop I watched a bit of the Tory leadership battle’s live debate last night, as contenders tore lumps out of each other in their cat clawing bids to garner support. One of them, Kemi Badenoch, has already signalled her opposition to the UK’s net zero goals.

Have a nice day.