I’m afraid overwintering in a minor Aegean resort can be a salutary lesson in benign boredom. My partner Liam and I have tired of the nosey over-familiarity of village life. We dodge past expat dives to avoid the sycophantic waiters and predictable punters who sulk if we don’t indulge them. We’ve drawn the conclusion that we crave anonymity and a little more buzz. We are London boys with our London ways after all. Prompted by our perfidious landlord we’ve decided to abandon our oversized house half way up a mini mountain with its matchless views and winter desolation. We shall seek solace and pleasure in bustling Bohemian Bodrum where alternative Turks go to escape from the crushing conformity of everyday life. The beauty of renting is we can up sticks when the mood takes us so we’re sodding off to Sodom. It’s güle güle to silence broken only by the call of crickets and spectacular sunsets and merhaba to 24 hour traffic, exorbitant lattes, barking dogs in surround sound and people, lots of them. I’ve purchased a pair of ear plugs.