Stronger winds

To fit this many boats into the marina, they have to be tightly fitted together, which works ok if you don't mind hearing your neighbours' conversations and smelling their breakfast, and so on.  And it's all perfectly alright if the weather stays calm. But if the wind gets up, things can get a bit more worrying.
We spent the day doing quiet local things - coffee by the pool (wifi access), a bit of shopping (for us, fresh mint for tea and some figs for Andrew), and lunch on the boat using up the abundant and delicious left-overs from the night before.  Then we walked in the mid afternoon to the tiny village on the headland beside the marina bay.... Just getting the lie of the land, unwinding.
By the time we got back to the boat, the song of the wind in the thousand or so yacht masts in the marina was positively orchestral. With fluctuating power its harmonies rose and fell, sometimes just whispering and clanking, sometimes a full bellowing roar. Looking at the masts, their collective personality seemed to be thrilled and excited. 'This is what we're for', they seemed to be saying as they breasted into the gale. 'Show us the wind! Give it to us! We love it! We are all for wind!' And they stretched up taller and straighter, and if masts can smile, these hundreds and hundreds of masts were grinning. Their stays and yards and fixtures were with them, and they loved it.
The hulls, meanwhile, were stirring and bumping about. Where we are, about three piers back from the bay, in the middle of the marina, things were pretty up-and-down, but we and our immediate boatly neighbours are well-berthed with tightish lines. Across the pontoon, two Italian boats were less well secured, one of them swaying and bashing about in the wind, only a couple of fenders protecting its companion. The owners of this victim boat came back, looked, tried moving some fenders, drank coffee, looked some more. Their friends arrived. The badly-moored boat continued to bash into them. K&A said, if this was Split, the marinero would come and re-secure the problem boat, but here in Greece it's less well managed.
The wind roared and gulped. The masts were proud. The sky was blue but darkening into night-time (no shooting stars last night).
K&A (but stupidly not me) went for a walk further out into the marina - where the wind was taking some of the yachts broadside, and the waves were piling up over the jetties. 'No sleep, no staying aboard there.....'
For this to happen in a marina, a safe haven, is quite something.
Our berth, on pier N, berth 20, is about quarter of a mile or so from the actual quay. You get some idea of the scale of the place.
I woke smelling smoke about 1am. The people on the boat next to us, also Italian, were smoking and that had drifted into my cabin and woken me up. The wind had died down, to an almost eery quietness.  Today, the sky is blue and the airs calm. We're off by car to tour a bit of the island.