Your Life is One Big Lie

One of the central themes of all my writings – even the My Haunted Life series – is the nature of reality and the role that we may play in dictating that. Over the last twenty or so years (if not my entire life really), I have read, meditated on, studied and discussed this topic and the process I have come to several conclusions. One of these is that I now believe that much of our world is an illusion.

It’s easy to draw analogies with movies like the Matrix here and I and others often do but what I mean is a lot of what we think we know isn’t real. It isn’t truth nor fact. I once said (and thought it was rather cute) –

The more I think on it the more I realize that certainty is an illusion. History was written by the winner, the news is provided with a spin and other people are opaque. We know nothing for certain. It used to be that the internet might provide information,but it too is now nothing but opinion and scare mongering. Nothing can be relied upon. We have to look inside ourselves for anything of value – anything that can be relied upon – but it too is colored by our ego and personalities.

So in the end, if the past is a colored view and the future a fancy, what do we have left?

Simply to live in the moment…..” (The Mystical Hexagram (Vasey & Vincent, 2012)).

Life is an enigma and I may never actually understand the answers but I do know this. Everything that we take to be true is probably not. Let me give a few examples;

1. History – history is written by the winner and it reflects a perception or view of what happened. There are alternative histories for everything and the sad thing is, they are all colored by the same issue.

2. Education – Education is partly about providing certain tools – reading, writing, critical thinking, analysis – but only in limited degree. The rest of education is essentially to ‘brainwash’ you with cultural normalities, cultural convention and to ensure you don’t actually challenge the system. Most people accept what they are told as the gospel truth and never for a minute stop to think critically or analytically about things. In this way, the illusion is maintained.

3. Religion – While all religions are probably based on wisdom and spiritual truth, they are all and without exception, subverted to match someone’s political or cultural agenda. They become the basis by which people can be manipulated and controlled.

4. On a more mundane level, the music or entertainment industry can be used to prove its all illusion too. Many singers can’t sing (they use computer software now to ensure perfect pitch), many musicians can’t actually play, many live performances are lip synched. It’s all a lie (It didn’t used to be). Actors and actresses public personas are creations and false often nothing like the reality. Show business is really all a show – an illusion – just like everything else in your life.

5. You are bombarded day in and day out with messages – some subliminal and others in your face – buy this, eat this its good for you, holiday here and so on. The marketing machine uses our ability to imagine and visualize – a rudimentary skill though it is in the  majority of us) and uses OUR magic making ability and equipment to have us make THEIR reality. Our magic has been hijacked!

I could go on and on but I won’t. Don’t ask me who the THEY might be. I have no idea and I am not a conspiracy theorist – that’s just another fantastical dead end. That there is a THEY – whether THEY actually know it or not, I am sure.

I also have concluded this. Given everything turns out to be illusion and that I cannot trust anything, then I must turn to the only thing I can rely on – me. Unfortunately, I have to first clear the Me of all the nonsense I have been conditioned with and am bombarded with daily. As Mark Stavish terms it – I must know my own mind. This is far from easy and may not be attainable at all but I can make progress towards it and, in doing so, I can take control of my life and my reality. I can be a true mage and imagine my thoughts into reality. Of course, I also live in other people’s realities too and I must learn how to interact with their parallel universes too.

You know, if the outer world we call life is an illusion while the inner world is real then surely, the Kingdom of heaven truly is within us and faith – well, it can move mountains.



It Doesn’t Matter Anymore

It doesn’t matter
Matter anymore
A life lived
An open door
No matter anymore
It doesn’t matter
Matter anymore
Such a stress
Bloody mess
It doesn’t matter
Matter anymore

So serious
What was that about?
So erroneous
I said that
No doubt
Life and death
It seemed so serious
A waking dream
Horrifically delirious

I thought it mattered
I really did
I thought I had to try
I really did
I thought I should be
Like so acute
Like dark glasses
Sideways cute
But now I know
I have just understood
And now I laugh
Like you knew I would

It doesn’t matter
Matter anymore
A life lived
An open door
No matter anymore
It doesn’t matter
Matter anymore
Such a stress
Bloody mess
It doesn’t matter
Matter anymore


A Meeting with God

In the run up to Halloween, here is another true and strange tale of the paranormal. I will post a new strange true story each day so don’t miss them.

A few weeks into my college days, as I made my way from the Students’ Union building to my student flat on the 19th floor of a campus building, I noticed a rather suspicious looking character who seemed to be following me around. As I entered one of the elevators in the ground-floor of the building, he followed peering sideways at me but looking away whenever I tried to catch his eye. As the elevator arrived at my floor, I was hoping it was all just my imagination and that perhaps he would continue up to the top floor above me. But, as I left the elevator, he followed and as I reached the doorway into the group of six study bedrooms, shared kitchen, and bath that was my home on campus, he was still right there – right behind me.

“Do you want something?” I asked nervously.

“Gary, I want to talk to you,” he said quietly.

“How do you know my name?” I asked in surprise.

“Oh, I know a lot about you.” he replied. “And I must speak with you – Now if possible.”

Reluctantly, I let him in to my study bedroom and he introduced himself as an Indonesian student. He practiced meditation, he said, and he had been asked by his Guide to talk to me and help with some challenges that I was facing. I was rather incredulous but convinced. How exactly did he know my name?

Anantha and I actually became firm friends from that point forward. He really did know a lot about me for someone I had just met and that seemed both mysterious and alluring. He tried to help me understand that I was a ‘sensitive’ and that this sensitivity meant that I was open to all the flotsam and jetsam of the astral world. He also told me that my uncontrolled reaction – pure fear – was attracting things from that realm that I was probably better off without. He started to teach me some psychic self defence methods that were useful but the problem was that at the smallest hint of any phenomenon, I became a total wreck and fear possessed me completely.

In order to help me overcome this deep-seated fear, he suggested that it might help if I could share a controlled experience with him. Sitting me down in a comfortable position, he asked me to close my eyes and relax. Peeking out of the corner of my eye I watched him do likewise. Suddenly, I was with him in a stone tunnel, it seemed to go on for a great distance and as it did so, it slowly curved around so that you could not see where the tunnel went. What I could see though, was the brightest light I have ever seen. It filled the tunnel with golden light but its source was always just around the bend in the tunnel so that it could not actually be seen directly. The light began to fill me with laughter. It made me feel very happy, happier than I had ever felt and happier than anyone has any right to feel. I began to laugh out loud and as I did so, tears of joy sprang from my closed eyes. As I laughed an odd thing happened. My laughter seemed to become magnified thousands of times and to descend in pitch until I realized that this was not my laughter anymore but someone or something else’s laughter. The laughter permeated throughout my entire being so that everything was laughter and golden light and I knew then that I was in the presence of God.

When I finally came out of the trance that I had found myself in, Anantha was already sitting opposite me with a smile on his face and a questioning look in his eyes.

“You see, He is always there for you,” he explained. “There is no need to be frightened. All you have to do is trust in Him.”

As I discovered on several occasions since then, a wonderful experience like that quickly fades just as the memory of a dream fades. At the time that it happens and shortly afterwards, it feels as if it should surely stay with you forever, but it fades just the same as consciousness returns to normality. And, with its fading away so too the newly found and almost grasped confidence went with it and as Anantha left, I was ashamed to feel just as frightened as I had been before.

Anantha did help me a lot though. Through slow perseverance he got me to a state that I could best describe as the toleration of fear. He was also someone that I could share my thoughts and experiences without fear of reproach or that look of horror as your confidant realizes that you might well be a total freak. Unfortunately, he left the college at the end of my first year returning to Indonesia and I never heard from him again.

If you enjoyed this story you will also enjoy my novel – The Last Observer – great price on Kindle all winter!

Divide et impera

What is the definition of divide and conquer? A strategy for achieving political or military control (my italics).

There are a lot of ways to divide and conquer but the three that most easily come to mind are as follows;

1. Nationality
2. Religion
3. Race

Politicians use all three of these and many others on an almost daily basis to gain what they want for their personal power. They pit us against one another by playing to our sense of injustice. The us and them statements designed to obtain an emotional response because if we surely thought about what we are being said we would recognise it as BS it really is.

I’m English and a yorkshireman apparently. Why? Because by accident of birth I was born there. Nothing more. But, as I grew up I was constantly told how I should think and behave by those around me. It’s normal for that to be the case. I left though – Yorkshire at age 18 and England at age 28. I have not returned and now I see what utter bullshit I was told to think about being a yorkshireman and being English. I am also British, European but most importantly I am a human being and I poop and pee and worry about stuff just like the rest of you. We have in common much more than what divides us but those devious Divide et impera politicians do not want us to remember this. Oh no, for without division how could they achieve their vision?

Meditating, studying the esoteric and observing has told me that we create our own reality. So, to take a current debate as an example, if I am Scots I have been likely raised being told a bunch of BS about the English (or the protestants/catholics – if I am west coast Scots). I emotionally yearn for yesteryear when Scotland was a Kingdom in its own right free from southern control and when Mel Gibson covered in blue daub beat the crap of out them and even stole the King of Englands queen’s heart… oh wait, no that was a movie right? and historically that queen hadn’t been born before Gibson’s character met his death…. well, what does it matter, we’d be better off without them anyway. Stand back a minute and think about that. Being Scots is an accident of birth and then being programmed by the local society. As is being English. It’s all one big fairy story perpetrated to keep you angry, jealous and ready to fight people just like you.

I know some people are still trapped in that paradigm and will not get it. They adore being Scots, English, Russian, Ukrainian or whatever it is and they will argue and fight for their own – their clan. Fine. I won’t because it is bullshit and its anti-human.

We focus on what divides us don’t we as opposed to what unites us. To finish using the same current debate. If the Scots were determined to make the UK work, it would and they would be building a different reality to the one in which they want independence. We create our own reality – its that simple.

I don’t really have an axe to grind and whatever happens I wish the Scots and the English and the Welsh well but I do hope that one of these days people will wake up and realize they are being manipulated. They are allowing their reality to be created by someone else. So, when you get that reality that you ceded to someone else please, quit moaning.


The Adept Magician

I wonder if any of you have ever met a real magician? Someone capable of making physical magic via their will? Czech magician, Franz Bardon, was one person reputed to have developed such powers and I can recommend the autobiographical account of his life which was written by one of his close associates after his death here in Brno and admittedly goes a bit overboard in its claims. Nonetheless, he could make real magic of that I have no doubts. Despite hanging in magical circles for close to a decade or so, I have never seen or met anyone capable of performing that kind of magic. I have seen and participated in rituals that have had real power and had real results but I have never seen someone make it rain or make something burst into flames simply through an act of will. Do people like this exist? Yes, I am certain of it.

Someone who I have become fortunate enough to correspond with is a gentlemen by the name of Marten Crawford. Marten is also someone who admires Mr. Bardon and who has for many years followed Bardon’s exercises and helped with a Bardon discussion group on line. He and others had some interaction through this discussion group several years ago with a real adept magician who had followed Bardon’s exercises with real success. The interaction makes for remarkable reading and offers significant insights into what it takes to become an adept in real magic. The book is a must read for any aspiring magician. Here is its description…

51Uc7ri7mpL._SL250_Most of us know of gifted people: Van Gogh, Einstein, Bach, Hawking, mathematicians, faith healers, psychics and so on. But did you know other abilities are possible?

With spiritual training one can achieve abilities far beyond anything we can comprehend right now: with the right training.

Cast in the form of conversations, this book is about one such person, a gent who trained using spiritual exercises daily for 30 years, sometimes at great peril to his health, his family, his friends and his financial well–being.

After extraordinary effort, this Magician was capable of creating earthquakes, 360 degree vision and could even stop time itself. Impossible new–age claptrap?

“We are a thought created moment by moment containing all that is, was and ever
shall be: the reflection within the reflection”

Set at the turn of the 21st century with the help of his sponsor, he not only made it to the first great transformation, to the second but on to the third great transformation where the ability to speak thought into being is conferred.

Astonishing, deceptive in it’s unassuming easy style, this book itself is a work of magic designed to bring transformation to the reader in a most subtle way, if one but follows the trail of breadcrumbs this magician left us…

“As like attracts like, when you begin to achieve positive results, you will find every
part of your life changing. The uncommon becomes the familiar, what you never
imagined could be, suddenly is all around you. And that is just the beginning”.

I recommend that you buy this book and look out for my in depth review in a weeks or so….

All is One

I looked down onto and across a very strange and unfamiliar landscape. It was a rocky, largely barren place with sharpened peaks rising all around. Yellows and grays beneath an azure sky. It was like looking into a vast ampitheater and I recall thinking that the heat of the midday sun must be unbearable down there in the center. Strange, because ‘down there’ was really up there on top of a flattened peak of dust and bare rocks. It was a strange and crazy point of vantage that I had of this scene. There were a number of squarish whitened buildings dotted around in the yellow-green valleys – signs of life at least.

It was then that I noticed that atop the flattened rocky peak in the center of my vision there were figures. From my position of vantage it seemed as if there may be a small crowd and three crosses. I recall idly wondering about the crosses until somehow I seemed to zoom in upon the scene as if to clarify what it was I was seeing. Sure enough, there were about 50 or so people gathered atop this cross between a mountain and a hill and three crosses. Each cross had a man upon it wracked in agony. The central cross was the one that drew my attention and that of the small crowd as a soldier thrust a spear into the man’s side. The crowd gasped and cheered.

For me, it all happened in a rush as if the entire world had snuck in on me in an almighty rush of energies, sound and light. I realized clearly and without doubt that the Nazarene was dying and as his head dropped and he gave a last breath there was a massive explosion of light and energy. Momentarily, it was suddenly as dark as night and then a small spark of light seemed to appear emanating from the Nazarene dead upon the cross and this light moved outwards in a massive concentric circle, expanding and expanding to encapsulate everything. Again, my vantage point shifted and now seemed seemed distant as I watched in sheer amazement at this concentric shower of light and energy that was spreading through every rock, tree, living creature – every single molecule and atom on the planet.

I hadn’t expected it but the concentric ring of ever expanding light seemed to hit me and I was knocked back as if hit by a nuclear blast. The light filled me up. It enlightened every atom of my body sitting there in my office chair in Houston, Texas. A powerful rush of energy like nothing I had experienced to that point and have not experienced again. The effect of this was to momentarily knock me out – I blacked out literally. But then I was back.

I was everything. Everything was me. We were all one thing in total harmony. The planet, the Universe, you. It was all me – us.

It lasted for an just instant and then the light was gone moving off into the Universe in a huge concentric circle.

But just for a moment, I had been fortunate to have the light of the Christ show me the Truth.

christ crucified

You can read an alternate account of this experience in my book Inner Journeys (Thoth, 2005)

Stranger Than Fiction – The UK Pedophile Story that Won’t go Away

For decades there have been rumors about a pedophile ring at the highest levels of British society. From time to time, bits and pieces would bubble up in newspapers and then just as quickly, the story was gone again. The story was always there though in the background as whispers, innuendo and rumor. It was a story picked over by conspiracy theorists who no doubt embellished it with lurid stories of satanism, black magic, lizards, aliens, murder, royalty and much much more. Indeed, much of this was truly stranger than fiction but throughout there was a core of substance to these stories. Since the Saville case came to light, the existence of such a pedophile ring involving powerful people and going to the core of British society has been proven. Increasingly, the papers and the media are covering the story and the conclusion has to be that the Britain we all know is a lie.

Everyone who knows me will appreciate, I don’t like conspiracy stories. In fact, I set out to disprove conspiracy and my view is that the logical explanation is always the most likely but that we will never know the truth of anything. Too much chaos and too much personal interpretation by everyone involved in anything to ever see the truth of a matter like this. Too many people willing to twist and embellish for personal gain or some other reason. Read The Prague Cemetery if you want to understand how it is done. An excellent book. But I digress. In this instance, there are too many independent pieces of evidence now to come to any other logical conclusion than there is a massive cover up around this group of powerful pedophiles in the UK and that this has been covered up for decades.

I come to this conclusion reluctantly because, like most people, I do not want to believe or accept it. But consider just a few of these items, do your own research and you will come to similar conclusions I am sure. The despicable Jimmy Saville and all of his friends and connections including his driver, Cyril Smith, Peter Morrison, the busting of a huge pedophile ring involving more than 6000 people across the UK, Norman Tebbit’s statement that there ‘probably was a cover up as we believed it was better to protect the system’. He now views that as a mistake. I am not going to name other names though yesterdays news did not surprise me as this man is rumored to be a part of the high-level pedophile ring that literally ran (runs) the country. Stars, politicians, aristocracy and one or two business leaders…..For such a story to never actually bust out another logical conclusion must be that the secret service and police at high-levels are also involved in the cover up.

I think its time this story was blown wide open. I think its time we knew the truth. I think we should demand to have this investigated out in the open and that no one – NO ONE is sacrosanct.

I have two additional thoughts around this topic. Firstly, back in the 70’s and 80’s, this sort of thing was endemic and pretty much kept quiet by everyone. It was a sort of open secret. For example, at my elementary school, there was a male teacher whose name I do not recall that we all avoided. It was well known that if you were a boy and you got hurt or distressed, this teachers favorite way to comfort you was to shove his hands down your pants and fondle you. All the other teachers knew, I think parents knew. No one did anything. I recall falling and grazing my knee at break one day. I was crying but as I saw this creep walking towards me I ran. I ran as fast as I could because I had seen what he did and he wasn’t going to do it to me. Don’t get me started about the scout masters I knew. Nice men but they too seemed to think that a good old fondle was the way to comfort a small boy. Don’t tell me it wasn’t common knowledge – I am sure most people knew and they looked the other way.

My second thought is probably whimsical and falls into the conspiracy area that I so detest but…. I am inclined to believe that people sell their souls for power. Whether accidentally or deliberately, there is no doubt that for wealth, power and influence, people will do things that are ‘evil’. In doing so, they sell their souls. Stranger than fiction?


A cornucopia of magic, mayhem and murder – The Last Observer – my latest novel….

The Art of Dreaming

For a while this morning I was researching Carlos Castenada. I had read his first four or five books as a teen and was thinking perhaps it was time to refresh my memory as regards their content. Pretty soon, I was reading about the man and how most likely, he was a fraud who rather than sitting in a small room with Don Juan was reading books about the subject at the University Library. I felt a rising sense of disappointment too as I read how he had retreated to a mansion with three female followers who gave up everything to live with and follow him and how he treated his family. All the classic symptoms of ego, sex and cult. Very disappointing.

I read too a summary of the content of the books. Even though Castenada himself may have been suspect, mysterious and perhaps a fraud, for me anyhow the books do contain a synthesis of real wisdom and knowledge. Who knows how he really came by that knowledge and who knows what the truth about him really is perhaps instead what matters is what we make of his books. Castenada himself talked about how reality is described to us and we eventually accept reality as described. From the moment we are born, we are described things and eventually we take on this view of reality. He said that to begin to see one had to stop the world. When you stopped the world or as I understood it, questioned what really was around you, you would begin to learn to see another reality or realities. Though he may use terminology that is different to the words I may use, he is saying what I am coming to accept as well. Any form of occult training essentially has the same objective and that is to break down the reality you were taught and help you to observe your own version of it.


This in turn naturally leads me to the conclusion that in a way, we all create our own realities. It explains why for example, some people live conspiracy theories or see roadblocks and objections everywhere. They choose to. On the other hand, it can explain why people who can truly visualize success become successful. They create their reality. But before you can do that, you have to know yourself and be aware of what filters you have been given – how the world has been described to you. Hatred, racism, homophobia for examples, are all inherited filters – they are all a description of acceptable reality for a consensus or majority.

So while, Castenada may be a disappointment to me I feel his works are valid. They originated somewhere in his reality and they describe an alternate reality as well as providing a map for getting there. I shall re-read his books…….

So You Want to Kill Me?

I am surrounded by friends and people I hold dear both physically and also via social media. Like most other people, I feel quite secure in my imaginary cocoon that is my life. I never really give much thought to the fact that a large number of people want to kill me. Why these people would want to kill me is a puzzle. They don’t know me, they don’t interact with me, they don’t know my name or what I do with my life. They don’t know about the things I am good at, they don’t know if I am a good person or a bad person. They don’t care about my hopes, my fears, my loves or my passions. Rather, I am somehow a subject of hatred for them and if they could, they would kill me and seek reward for it in heaven.

Who on Earth is he talking about? I can hear you say.

I am talking about people like Abu-Salha. An American who recently blew himself up in order to kill for God. People like this man who have been somehow subverted in to believing that hatred is love, that death is life and that a paradise of beautiful women – and I suppose ostensibly great sex for eternity – awaits them. People like this want to kill me and you because we are free to believe what we want as opposed to believe in what they want us to believe in. Yes, its a bit more complex than that I suppose but at the end of the day, when a religion or a system demands that you kill in order to go to paradise and asks you to kill then you know that somewhere a man has taken over that religion or system. The God of love would never ask anyone to kill. Only a man of hate would ask this.

The world has a growing and large population most of whom live in poverty and ignorance. They are easy prey for men whose hearts are filled with hatred. Those of us that sit comfortably in our homes with full bellies, a roof over our heads surrounded by luxury are a minority that gets smaller every day. The spread of such hate is like a plague – I have often thought the fascination with zombies rather silly but it is a very appropriate analogy if you think about it. This spread of this insidious religious fanaticism is like a zombie-plague. Once infected, people lose their sanity and reason and become killers of light and love without remorse.


What to do? I only know of one thing to do and that is to pray for these people in any way you can.

Paradise or Prison?

We had selected a place called Kipriotis Village on Kos mainly for its kid’s facilities. It turned out to be very large – too large in retrospect – with 1378 beds or when full, over 3000 people. It had 4 or 5 pools, 4 water slides, 4 or 5 bars, three restaurants, an outdoor theater and, outside of toilets in rooms, I counted just 14 toilets per sex. I would say it was short on toilets and I can only assume that management expected guests to pee in the pools – which I am sure they did given the stink of 14 toilets to serve over 3000 guests. After the first day in which we discovered row upon row of sun beds festooned with towels but no people, we too began the practice of rushing first thing in the morning to claim a sun bed by the pool returning later after a leisurely breakfast, to claim our hard won resource.




The food, at first, wasn’t bad at all. As its all inclusive and free, the temptation is pile the plate and pile the plate I did – at first. By about day 4, I began to sicken of the food. Whatever it was, it tasted somehow the same. The pizza tasted like the chicken that tasted just like the salad. Strange I know, but true. Furthermore, I spent much of the vacation having to make rather urgent trots to find one of those 14 toilets that was free periodically and I suspect too much olive oil to have been the culprit. Of course, one could try the Greek restaurant or the Italian restaurant by booking the night before but, other than a change of scenery, it was the same food.



Next time I do this, I will check the meaning of all inclusive carefully. The drinks were also included but it was only a subset of the drinks and they were all made with local produce. I did ask several times if there was actually any alcohol in the cocktails to which the waitress usually smiled and showed me the bottle which, proclaimed 30% alcohol. I suspect this to be a lie as I never experienced the remotest feeling of being giddy, drunk or tipsy the whole time I was there and I drank a lot of these cocktails – until they too began to taste the same.

Another thing about camp life is that you are in close proximity to several thousand other people not all of them the sort of people you would desire to share a vacation – or a toilet – with. The Russians in particular were the most obnoxious people I have ever met outdoing my fellow Brits and the ever present Germans by a long haul. They shoved in, jumped queues, were loud and simply didn’t fit in at all. I know a number of Russians and these tourists must have come from some deprived housing estate outside of Moscow because they were not at all like the people I know. ‘Russia First’ seemed to be the only English words they knew and that should give you all the information you need to back up my assertions….

By then end of week 1, Kipriotis village began to take on the characteristics of a prison camp complete with its guards who in this instance were the so called life guards. The life guards appeared to have been instructed to do their best to stop anyone from having fun. Make so much as a splash in the pool and the whistle blew along with a stern look in your direction. No jumping, no diving, no horseplay, no coming down the slide anyway but alone and on your bum….. The highlight for me was when we notice our daughter on the other side of the pool obviously struggling just below the oblivious guard. My partner leapt immediately executing a near perfect (9.9) dive into the pool, gliding underwater effortlessly towards our daughter to help her to the side only to have the same guard blow the whistle and lecture her on diving. He felt the full wrath of my tongue let me tell you.

So, it was with some glee that on day 8, we made our bid for freedom. A two-day car rental for 50Eur was our opportunity to explore Kos and change diet, location and toilet use. It was heaven. We toured almost the entire island and what an exquisite place it is. The car was however a bit of a disappointment. We asked for a ‘topless’ car – it was on special. We thought it would be fun. Mistake.

The car was the smallest vehicle I have ever driven and that includes a go-cart. It was advertised as seating 4 however. It had been well used just like Kipriotis Village. When the roof was opened it rattled so noisily that you couldn’t hear each other shout. The roof stayed shut and topless was not allowed. The engine warning light was on the entire rental period. I told them too but the rental lady smiled and told is it was an additional feature of the cheap rental. Mustn’t complain too much, despite only managing 3km/hr up the hills and having to stay in 2nd gear most of the time to accelerate, it did its job and was returned after the rental in the condition we found it along with several empty drink bottles, a ton of sand and sweet wrappers.


We then found ourselves with 4 more days of the prison I mean holiday camp…. That’s when we discovered the bus. Ah, the bus. We managed to escape each day into the lovely town of Kos where we shopped, ate and drank and found toilets quite easily for the remainder of the trip.