So what do we do now?

That’s a really boring title. Sorry. Inspiration has been a little thin on the ground the last couple of weeks, mostly because late February/early March is what we in the activity holiday field call “shit-are-we-going-to-get-some-more-bookings-bugger-it-let’s-spruce-the-place-up-and-see-if-that-helps” time. I told you I was all out of snappy titles.

It’s at this stage of the year that people are thinking about their Easter holidays rather than their summer ones, and consequently our enquiries graph has flat-lined. It’s nothing to worry about really – it did the same last year and things soon picked up again in early April – and we have almost exactly the same amount of bookings now that we had last March – but nevertheless it means that we are often left with very little to do at a time when our natural anxieties tend to bob to the surface. This is the flipside of living the dream, the bit you don’t get to see on TV. We have a fantastic life in a Mediterranean idyll. We spend our summers kayaking across glassy waters, leaping into amazing freshwater pools and eating and drinking some of the best natural produce Europe has to offer. We spend our summers doing THIS.



I know, we’re utter bastards aren’t we? And you can shut up about our taste in music.

Winters, however, are different. In the absence of a regular 9-5, we fret about bookings and either do boring things or become a little bored ourselves (car accidents in Norfolk notwithstanding), which is…well…not at the “very” end of the interesting scale. The weather’s a bit rubbish, you’re at a loose end and you need to take your mind off business matters – so you end up doing chores, just to break the days up a bit. We’ve painted walls, ceilings, cupboards, bedside tables and floors in an effort to give our house on Vis a bit of a lift. We’ve been creating driftwood wall art, making coffee tables out of discarded pallets and shoe-racks out of ancient fruit crates dragged out of bushes in an attempt to maximise practicality on a shoe-string budget. We’ve replaced lightshades, light switches, and even lights. We’ve even done a little work on our actual marketing, with two new listings in OwnersDirect and Airbnb that have already brought us in no fewer than four extra bookings.

 

 

Looking much smarter - and this was before we REALLY got going...

 

(mention this blog when enquiring about Kuca Visoka on www.thisisvis.com and we’ll bung in a 10% discount!)

Of course, we were on Vis a bit late thanks to the Croatian customs bods insisting that we take our hot tub direct to Montenegro (see two posts ago). It was great to see old friends again, albeit briefly, but in the back of our minds we always knew that we would have to get back to Villa Miela to make the same efforts there. Since my last post, our Skoda had been freed from the muddy field we’d dumped it in and our hot-tub had made it over our wall courtesy of our mate Dragan.

 

 

 

This is not the same Dragan who failed car electrics module 1 last time out. Nor is he any of the following Dragans: Dragan Majstor, Dragan Doors, Dragan Plumber, Electric Dragan, American Dragan, Dragan Big Boss or Dragan Lawyer, all of whom have crossed our path in the not so recent past. Dragan Dajkovic (for this is his name) avoids our usual address-book-defining moniker simply because he is not such an easy bloke to sum up. He is, variously – and depending on the time of year – Dragan Lorry, Dragan Hunter, Dragan Stolar, Dragan Vino, Dragan Dupilo, Dragan Digger or Dragan Drina (for the cancer sticks he has perennially on the go). He’s a brilliant bloke who seems to know, or know how to do almost anything, and if there is something that falls outside of his sphere of knowledge, it’s likely he knows a bloke who lives in an appropriate postcode. He’s a good bloke to be mates with.



There are two skills I’m desperate to learn from Dragan (other than how to operate heavy plant machinery) – how to make traditional Montenegrin chairs and how to cooper a wine barrel. Maybe next winter, if the DIY ever gets finished. Before the start of the season there’s a lot to do. We have to set up the tub and attach the wood burner (not to mention test it). We have to prune an entire natural orchard. We have to clear and gravel at least two levels of our terracing, clear and tidy another three levels of bits and pieces of building rubble, wood flotsam and discarded bottles of Niksicko that had been left there by various slovenly workmen since 2008. We have to repair a couple of dry-stone walls, set up a “natural” shower by the tub, reconnect our pump system from the spring at the bottom of the garden, do touch up painting in the house, replace loads of light bulbs and fittings, fix one boiler and check over all our bikes and kayaks. We have to meet with our lawyer and our accountant to, erm, balance the books. Oh, and we still have to move house. Again (more of which next time).

Given that we’ve only had two days without rain recently, we’ve not been doing too badly.



Better, at any rate, than the England rugby team. Watching your side getting spanked by Wales is never a choice experience, but watching them getting spanked by Wales in the presence of a Welsh rugby fan was the nadir of my sporting year thus far (and I’m a Norwich supporter). Of course, there is a chance things could get even worse by this time next week. Our cricketers may have failed to beat a bunch of part-time New Zealanders and the expensively-remunerated prats who mostly comprise our national football team might well have come to Podgorica’s FC Buducnosti stadium and left without the multiple points that shall be required if we’re to have any hope of being at the World Cup in Brazil in 2 years’ time.

 Wayne Rooney mistaking Montenegrin arse for the ball



Last time England pitched up here for the Euro qualis, they were 2-1 up and cruising when Manchester’s favourite granny-banger decided to boot a Montenegrin defender up the bum for the hell of it, got himself sent off and then had to watch from the sidelines as his put-upon team-mates, a man down, conceded an equaliser to a pumped up Montenegrin side (as well as getting himself banned for the first two matches of Euro 2012 – thanks Wayne). At Wembley, England (population 60m) managed a god-awful scoreless draw with the same opponents (population 650,000). The scene is set for a really crap game and a 1-1 draw.

And I really, really want to go. There are only two issues – I don’t have a ticket and I’m not entirely sure I’d spend all my time cheering for Woy’s Wonders…