Gulp! I thought we had wandered into a Grey Big Belly convention by mistake. I felt so inadequate. I tried expanding my tummy as I sat down but, no matter what I did, it seemed nothing in comparison to the gentleman sitting next to me. He had on a tight blue vest emblazoned with the words 'U.S. Athletics' that showed off his wobbly expanse to perfection. This was further enhanced by baggy white shorts and matching legs that tapered tantalisingly into grey socks and sandals.

I felt that the meeting was a waste of time. All these holiday reps really want to do is sell their vastly overpriced excursions. I got more useful information by chatting to the hotel receptionist (e.g. a trip to Limassol in a shared stretch Mercedes taxi for just £2 each, car hire £15 per day etc)

Our hotel wasn't in a prime position to say the least. From the balcony I could gaze at houses, unfinished buildings and what can only be described as scrubland - no doubt also waiting to be developed. In fairness the hotel (Paphiessa) was adequate - nice and clean and well decorated. Like a lot of things though, position is important.

Now this was better - thankfully. In fact it was quite pleasant. Running along by the sea was a wide promenade that stretched the full sweep of the harbour and led to the port. On the opposite side of the road were shops and restaurants with pavement style tables. Yes this was definitely much better. The sun was shining, there was blue sky and I was getting switched on.

I got my kit off (except for the thong) and lay in the sun after drenching myself in sun oil. Great! I had a swim, walked along the beach to dry off and felt that, at last, I was really on holiday. Even BF was looking relaxed and kind of cute. (Note: The sea can be rough around Paphos, swim in designated areas only, look out for warning flags).

In the evening we headed to the port and sat in a bar where I had my first holiday Orgasm while the sun changed to a deep red and sank into the sea. Yes, the Orgasm was a cocktail! I only chose that one to see BF's expression when he ordered it, "A large beer and an Orgasm please". We wandered along the port a litle further and sat outside another bar. This time I had a cocktail called Foreplay. I was beginning to have fun, Paphos wasn't so bad after all!

Actually the buses are very efficient. They run every fifteen minutes and there is a local set fare of 50 cents (55p). BF and I got to know them quite well. There is also a number 15 which runs to Coral Bay (about 11 km distance) where there is an extensive sandy beach and water sports, again only costs 50 cents. Buses also run to Ayia Napa and Protaras but the fare is dearer because of the much longer distances.

Lower Paphos is the main tourist area where most of the hotels are situated. The area around the harbour and port gets busy in the evenings with lots of people walking up and down, sitting in restaurants and watching the sunsets. It's an area for couples and families. You feel safe and comfortable and it's lovely and relaxing.

In lots of ways Paphos still has remnants of British 'rule' (1878 to 1960). The traffic drives on the left just like us, the electricity plugs are the same as ours and the pedestrian crossings still have old fashioned Belisha beacons. Virtually everyone seems to speak English so I didn't need the phrases I'd picked out, "Kalispera sas kyrie. Ti inae afto?" (Good evening, sir. What is this?). Even the currency is called pounds, though a Cypriot pound is worth £1.10 at present.

Night life? There are a few clubs, discos, music and topless bars all tucked together behind the main front to the east of the harbour. Some activity here, especially at the weekends when all of the Cypriot boys and girls come out to play. Not quite Ayia Napa - but you wouldn't really go to Paphos if that is what you are looking for.