Crete, Episode 1: Yes I am happy just reading, no I do not want to play your pool games, THANK you.

 For eases sake I shall henceforth refer to greek time. For easy translation to British, thats GMT +2 hours.
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It's coming up to 0800 at home, making it 1000 here. It's quite pleasant. There is mandolin music playing somewhere. There are men in matching clothes running around trying to get people who just woken up to go hiking. I am safe in my hotel room. Good luck guys.

Everything is delightfully multinational, which is nice. It's not a total Britishfest, and I don't feel like I am the only person who has no idea of the surrounding culture. Not that it matters. This is one holiday where I fully intend to just moodle about in the hotel grounds. Hell, even the beach is hotel owned. I am a little irritated by the lack of other people my age, but whatever. Who needs new friends when you have a bunch of books and free WiFi?
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 1023 That mandolin is really pissing me off.
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1115 Just finished typing up yesterdays notes. Mandolin music is now louder and people are dancing. I believe someone will die before day's end.
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Can't go in the pool. Will get dragged into  organised ball game. Dammit, this place is really good really, but these employed entertainment fucks are the fucking devil.

The replaced the mandolin with eurodance. In accordance to my previous observations, this is hell.

Wait, no, now one of them is doing aerobics in speedos. This is hell.

They have sensed my rage and have tried to placate me with Gaga. I am not sure whether or not to be offended.

Current pool contents consists of 40% middle aged women following Mr Speedo in aqua aerobics, 60% red faced men playing a strange volleyball/water polo hybrid.

It is worth noting that there is a complete gender divide between the above parties.

They've started doing the chicken dance. Kill me.

They've started clapping. Kill them.

It's like they're rhythmically applauding their own impending demise, each clap a beat on the drum keeping death's boat moving.

I'm do some pretty nice writing when I'm angry, don't I?
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French hip hop is surprisingly good. Why it should be surprising, I couldn't say.

Second thoughts, it might just be because it's female fronted. The vocalist was getting pretty intense. I could have pretended it was Queen Adreena.

Then they changed it when it got too angry. You know, when I began to really enjoy it.
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I have retreated into the food hall. I have no idea of the time but obviously it is between the alotted lunch hours. The music here is much more pleasant. I assume some kind of greek folk. It has a kind of indian touch to it...I miss Ellie.

Food is ok. I had spaghetti.

Two words: Free. Ice-cream.
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I have returned poolside to find no music. Things are looking up. This unfortunately means less high-larious anger for you the reader.

A weeble shaped woman just blobbed past in a bikini. Everything is ruined forever.
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1607, Just back from the gym. Aww yeah, just workin' out, pumpin' iron BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT MEN DO. ARRRGH.

Shitfuck, the eurodance volleyball is back.
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I am forced to undo three whole buttons on my shirt, mainly because said buttons fell off. How will humanity survive my half-mast-shirted form? We can only wait, and pray.
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That is all of interest today. I predict the rest of the night will be me hating every moment of a disco, and coming back to the room to play WoW.

Good. Night.

Addendum, I ended up going to watch some pretty cool Greek dancing and live music thing, then went back to the room and played Maiden out of the balcony.