..the whole party flew to Herakleon (late Candia) in Crete.
A comfortable hotel, but no food supplied. We set out for
dinner .. a terrible tourist resort called "The Glass House"
on the edge of the harbour. We were kept waiting hours for
a very indifferent meal, and the band blared away deafeningly.
Joy finally began flicking bread-pellets at the nearest
musician, and the four of us whiled away the time by writing
alternate lines of the following doggerel:

[Jack ] A pub-crawl through the glittering isles of Greece,
[Joy ] I wish it left my ears a moment's peace!
[June ] If once the crashing Cretans ceased to bore,
[Roger] The drums of England would resist no more.

[Jack ] No more they can resist: For mine are broken!
[Roger] To this Curetes' shields were but a token,
[June ] Our cries in silence still above the noise -
[Joy ] He has been hit by a good shot of Joy's !
[Jack ] What aim! What strength! What purpose and what poise !

(from Roger L Green's diary.. at Sunday 10 April, 1960)