By James Stone

"Oh no, what have you done?", I shouted down the telephone. Colin was at it again. Having foolishly given him my passport details for one of our previous overseas adventures, Colin now had the ability to book me up on any one of his madcap schemes. A walking holiday in Corfu doesn't sound particularly hair raising but when you find out that your headquarters will be in Kavos, the den of iniquity that prides itself on being the Ibiza of Greece, without the music, you can see my trepidation. Colin, you see, had thought that the cheapest accommodation on the island would be the best, and that is why we found ourselves housed next to five 18-year-old girls from Blackburn for a week.

Our first day was spent acclimatising to the heat on the beach. Colin was moody, eager as he was to get up in to the mountains to do some exploring and "Leave these yobs behind", but I was adamant that to head off without a sufficient acclimatisation period would be foolish. The "Sexy Doughnut" man plied us with doughnuts all afternoon, washed down by watermelons from the "Red Melon Yellow Melon" man who pottered up and down in a boat. The evening was spent trying to avoid offers of two-for-one shots and introducing ourselves better to the Blackburn girls, who were utterly incredulous that we would be donning our hiking boots in the morning. In all honesty, after five minutes in our company, a glazed expression came over their eyes, although Colin had perked up considerably, and I thought it would be for the best if we let them get on with enjoying themselves.

"An early start is called for," announced Colin at 06:00 the following morning. A few unrepeatable objections from myself and a croissant breakfast later we were striking out for the nearby mountain, which, I was reliably informed, had an ancient monastery at the top, just as our Lancastrian chums were dragging themselves home. I found the look that Colin gave them extremely unsettling. Despite the early start, the temperature was warm, and the innumerable hanging spiders made out ascent a touch unpleasant in places. The occasional glimpses of the sea and rocky, unpopulated beaches below were incredible and the two hour climb up to Arkoudilas Monastery was great fun. We has actually been enjoying the view for around five minutes before we turned around to see the monastery just 50 yards up the road, which gave me a great sense of relief as I was beginning to worry we wouldn't find it.

The rest of the holiday descended in to drunkenness if not quite drunken debauchery. Colin, now like the proverbial kid in the sweet shop, ran amok. He confided in me that he realised he had missed out on a large part of his youth, and proceeded to spend evenings out on the town with me in tow, while mornings and afternoons were spent recovering. His hiking boots were left forgotten in one corner, while I went off for the occasional rambles in the local vicinity, without finding much to write home about. Colin says he's going back next year, as a holiday rep.