Our final afternoon on the Greek island of Kefalonia, and we’re snorkelling around a cluster of giant mushroom-shaped rocks sprouting from the sea opposite Ithaca. Apparently thrown by Cyclops at invading pirates. As if being half blind is an excuse for not tidying up after yourself. Anyway, they’re great to jump off and, especially when the sea is calm, the most photogenic objects on the island. Which means I take the same photos of them every time we’re there, in the mistaken belief that one of them will be perfect, and I will look at it often, even though it’s exactly the same as the last, and I won’t. That’s the problem with always having a high quality camera in your towel bag. When you have the opportunity to preserve that perfect moment for all eternity you tend to take it, thus missing it completely.
The eldest lets out a gurgled exclamation and points down to a huge snail moving surprisingly quickly over the rippled sand below. With the magnification effect of the water it’s hard to tell how big it is, although it looks about a foot long. It’s decided that I’ll dive to get it, having the biggest lungs. Also we’re all slightly worried it might be dangerous.
