SUMMER is fading so fast that husband Keith and I decided a bit of serious sunshine wouldn’t go amiss.

With many European countries calling in the receivers where could we go?

Turkey seems very popular at the moment, but as we’re always up for a laugh we went for Greece.

I had visited the Greek mainland in the 1970s fulfilling a childhood ambition to see Athens and the Parthenon.

However, Keith hadn‘t sampled the delights of this particular country.

It was 5.30pm when the final choice was made and the flight was at 6am the next day.

We packed and went to bed setting the alarm for 1.30am.

By now what we expected to be a cheapish trip had been added too by the cost of a week’s parking plus travel insurance.

Needless to say we didn’t sleep a wink, we were much too excited.

No, actually I think the word is apprehensive. Neither of us are keen on flying.

The airport was eerily empty. No huge queues of sleepy students or grizzly children with frustrated mums and dads trying to keep order.

However, I can report that Club 18/30 is still up and firing judging by the numbers of young people prowling the duty free.

At security I was picked from the line; it happens every time and in full view of other passengers I’m patted all over to see if I’m what, carrying something sinister?

I mean do I look the type, I’m five-feet short and a fluffy powder puff of a woman, I don’t do menacing.

But I’m used to it now and when I ask they always say, “it’s random madam.” Yeah.

Never mind, it was meltingly warm at Zakynthos.

Just a word of advice though, make sure you take a rubber mat with you when visiting Greece so you don’t slip on the bathroom floor (I did) and you don’t electrocute yourself in the self-catering kitchen.

Standards fall somewhat short of UK regulations.

Still the pool was lovely and provided us with a week long people watching fest.