TAN: Planespotters - We are not alone
IS Edit
Friday, December 14, 2001 4:43 AM
Check this out, jokers.
Wonderful bit of writing.
RT Murphy
FRIDAY DECEMBER 14 2001
Spot the difference
BY BEN MACINTYRE
The British enjoy the thrill of taking photographs of foreign military
planes and noting down their numbers. The Greeks think those who do so are
either spies or mad. Our reporter in Athens reports on the cultural
differences that divide the two countries
Everyone has a bad holiday story, about the inedible food, the truculent
natives, the hotel like a prison, the peculiar companions. But Lesley Coppin
's story goes one worse: her accommodation was a prison and the past month
abroad has been spent in the company of a woman who diced up her husband and
buried him under an onion patch.
In early November, Mrs Coppin set off with her second husband Paul for a
relaxing week in Greece, part belated honey-moon, part hobby tour: while her
planespotting spouse and his friends visited the military airfields that are
their passion, she planned to read a few books on the minibus, and then
spend the last days of the holiday touring ancient Greek ruins.
Today Mrs Coppin, 51, was finally hoping to leave Korydallos high-security
prison, one of the nastiest jails in Europe, after five weeks behind bars on
charges of military espionage for looking - or in her case not looking - at
elderly Greek aircraft. Mrs Coppin had planned to explore the Acropolis;
instead she found herself sharing a fetid cell with 13 women and facing a
possible prison sentence of 20 years.
The decision this week by Greek judges to reduce the charges and allow the
Coppins to be released on bail, along with ten other planespotting Britons
and two Dutchmen, has brought to an end one of most bizarre international
legal disputes of modern times, but it has left Mrs Coppin, a grandmother
who works as the deputy manager of Domino's Pizza in Mildenhall, Suffolk,
with the sort of holiday memories that nightmares are made of. Perhaps the
cruellest irony is that she, unlike her husband, is very bored by military
aircraft and does not know an AH49 from a B52.
The incarceration of the planespotters has driven the Daily Mail into an
anti-Greek frenzy, prompted questions in Parliament, diplomatic
representations by the Foreign Office and Prime Minister, and enraged
comparisons between the Greek Government and the Taleban; it has angered and
confused many Greeks, provoked resentment within the Greek military
establishment, exacerbated tensions between Greece and Turkey and brought
relations between Athens and London to their lowest ebb for years; it has
cast a light into the strange world of the planespotter, and another into
the paranoid mind of Greek military officialdom; it has spawned some
familiar jokes and some pompous newspaper columns.
But above all, the incident has revealed the unbridgeable cultural gulf
between two exotic European species: the average British planespotter and
the typical Greek military policeman. European commissions, parliaments,
courts and currencies may seek to bring Europeans closer, but these two
creatures simply do not inhabit the same psychological universe - which is
why Mrs Coppin ended up in a dank cell with prostitutes and murderers.
Mr Coppin runs a travel company, Touchdown Tours, specialising in excursions
to airshows, military installations and, most importantly, to foreign
airfields in order to spot military jets.
Planespotters deem themselves a more glamorous version of trainspotters - if
such a distinction is possible - but the object of the hobby is much the
same: see an aircraft, note down its identification number and, if possible,
take a photograph; then spend hours in arcane conversation with other
planespotters, over Thermos and sandwiches, often in the rain. This uniquely
British pastime follows a grand tradition of eccentricity: it is not
complicated, physically dangerous or athletic. In the minds of most people
it is merely harmless, pointless, and mind-crushingly boring.
But to its most enthusiastic practitioners it verges on compulsion, and of
all the myriad varieties of planespotters, the most obsessive are the
"militaries", who spot military planes. Not for them the humdrum pleasures
of a Heathrow passenger jet; they long for the forbidden thrill of a Mirage
glimpsed across barbed wire on a cold East European runway, the smell of
military jet fuel in the morning, the challenge of getting around the guards
to jot down that elusive tail number. These men - and they are almost all
male - are the über-nerds of planespotting, anoraks with attitude for whom
no military plane is too dull or obscure, no airfield out of bounds.
Mr Coppin knew what he was up against in Greece, and his account of a
similar planespotting visit to the country last year now reads like pure
irony. "I would warn that spotting in Greece is still not particularly liked
by the authorities and without our contacts in the Greek Ministry of
Defence, which helped on a number of occasions, the trip might have been a
little longer than anticipated." Mr Coppin even appears to have relished the
risks.
On his website he eagerly records a visit to an F104 storage area at Araxos
last year: "This was our closest call with the security forces during the
whole trip, so care is definitely needed here."
On November 8, the 14 tourists, having paid £650 for the week-long trip,
arrived at the military airbase in Kalamata in the Peloponnese. Mrs Coppin
stayed in the minibus, doing a crossword puzzle, while the others trooped
off to see what they could see. By this point, the spotters had already
visited airbases at Tanagra, Andravida and Araxos, and Mrs Coppin was bored
stiff. Greek officials say the group had been repeatedly warned that its
activities were suspicious and told not to take photographs; it had been
detained, cautioned and released once already. But the "militaries" laughed
in the face of danger: this, after all, was the annual feast of Saint
Michael, patron saint of fighter pilots, when the Greek Air Force
traditionally (if cautiously) opens its doors to visitors.
"We had an invitation to attend the open day at Kalamata that was signed by
a Greek Air Force brigadier. We left the cameras in the minibuses as we were
told," Mr Coppin says. Within minutes the entire group, including the
hapless Mrs Coppin, were rounded up, marched off to a Greek military police
station and accused of espionage or, more exactly, "walking suspiciously"
through a military area.
The British tabloid press immediately leapt to the defence of the "Kalamata
12", insisting that innocent, if somewhat quirky, Britons were being cruelly
used by barbaric foreigners. From the Greek perspective, matters looked
rather different. Photographic equipment, whether used or not, near military
installations is suspicious, but, in the wake of September 11, Kalamata
airbase, the home of the Greek Air Force academy, was on the highest
security alert. Despite repeated warnings, the group persisted in its quest
for sensitive aircraft serial numbers. If a group of foreigners had been
noticed lurking around the perimeter of a British military airbase armed
with binoculars, notebooks and telephoto-lenses in the wake of the terrorist
attacks, the British police might also have taken an interest; at least one
sincerely hopes they would have. Spies have been known to use spotters as
cover before, and during the Cold War spies pretending to be trainspotters
gathered useful military information in Albania.
There is also one other crucial factor: Britain has roughly 10,000
planespotters; Greece has precisely none. In Britain people who hang around
airbases spotting military planes are benign, Bovril-drinking eccentrics; in
Greece they are spies.
What the Greek authorities subsequently discovered redoubled their
suspicions. Inside the planespotters' luggage was a shortband radio scanner,
used for eavesdropping on conversations between pilots and ground control.
Their notebooks were full of the serial numbers of army helicopters
operating out of Megara, a high-security base near Athens that is off-limits
to civilians. During interviews with police, Mr Coppin neglected to mention
that the group had been to Megara; more importantly, he failed to mention
that earlier this year he had toured airbases in Turkey, which has not
always had the most cordial relations with Greece, as a guest of the Turkish
military. Nothing could have looked more dodgy in Greek eyes, and Mr Coppin'
s excuse that he had been in similar contact with the Greek military did
nothing to dampen suspicions.
Greece is gearing up to host the Olympic Games in 2004 and issues of
security are high on the national agenda. Moreover, the country has just
taken delivery of a secret new aircraft: an adapted Embraer jet, modified to
carry an airborne early-warning system. According to some reports, the Greek
authorities believe the group took photographs of the new plane. Another
factor contributing to Greek sensitivity may be the fact that it has already
supplied two of its aged Huey helicopters to neighbouring Macedonia, which
is facing deep internal conflict with ethnic Albanians.
The arrested planespotters insisted that the radio scanner had not been
used. Mr Coppin said he had not told the authorities (or his lawyer) about
going to Megara because the top-secret airbase had not been on the original
itinerary. He said they had simply seen planes as they were driving along
the road, and got out of the minibus with their binoculars and notebooks and
got spotting.
The unconvinced Greek authorities called in the prosecutors, and Mrs Coppin
was bundled off to Korydallos prison while the men were incarcerated in
Nafplion. On November 12 they were charged with espionage, the ponderous
Greek legal system lumbered into action and Britain erupted in
self-righteous fury.
Planespotting is pursued by relatively few Britons, but bashing foreigners
who arrest Brits is a sport the whole nation can enjoy. The Daily Mail began
a campaign to force the release of the Kalamata 12 - and may be negotiating
to pay some of their bail as a publicity stunt - to the point where the
Greek Embassy is getting thousands of e-mails and letters, and sales of
Greek products are falling. Edward Heathcoat Amory invoked
Palmerston,recalling for Mail readers the occasion when the then Foreign
Secretary sent a naval squadron to blockade the Greek coast in defence of a
lone British citizen. The Spectator issued a ferocious harangue against the
"sadistic and moronic" actions of the Greek authorities, insisting that the
Taleban treated their foreign prisoners better and demanding a boycott of
the Olympic Games. Baron Lamont of Lerwick fulminated about the dangers of
European-style justice, and Boris Johnson MP declared the judges, in a
region famed for its olives, to be the pits: "Are these Greek judges just a
few olives short of a picnic?" he demanded.
"I am not a spy. All I want to do is go home," Mrs Coppin wailed from her
cell, as Britain's media enjoyed the pungent tang of taramasalata jokes and
planespotting witticisms: Greek meets Geek was irresistible, but here, too,
was an opportunity to bring other sins into account. Why were a few harmless
enthusiasts being persecuted in the name of anti-terrorism, when Greece has
so signally failed to tackle the November 17 Marxist-Leninist terrorist
group, despite a string of horrific attacks, including the still-unsolved
murder 18 months ago of Brigadier Stephen Saunders, the British military
attaché?
Others pointed out that Britain could have precious little interest in
spying on the tatty and outdated Air Force deployed by Greece, a fellow
member of Nato. If the serial numbers of the 35-year-old Huey helicopters
were so secret, why were they painted in large white letters on the side of
each aircraft? And if Megara is such a sensitive site, why is it visible
from a busy road, and how come it has been used as the location for a
popular Greek television drama series about fighter pilots? Almost all Greek
military serial numbers are available in defence manuals and aircraft
directories anyway, and if Britain had really wanted to spy on a Greek
military base, the job could have been done far more easily by satellite
than with a bunch of ill-dressed tourists in a minibus in broad daylight.
"Planespotting must be one of the most eccentric hobbies known to mankind,
but it is not an indication of ill-will or a threat to Greek national
security," insists Denis MacShane, the junior Foreign Office minister.
Some in Greece responded angrily to the British barrage, with one Greek
newspaper claiming that Britain was deliberately trying to undermine the
tourist trade (2.5 million Britons visit Greece annually) ahead of the
Olympic Games. There was, clearly, grandstanding on the Greek side, too,
most particularly from the Kalamata investigating magistrate, Panayiotis
Poulious, who seized his 15 minutes of international fame with both hands.
The Greek Government was plainly embarrassed, particularly after the
personal intervention of Tony Blair, but rightly pointed out that the Greek
judiciary is independent and politicians may not interfere with the law,
however slow and misguided that law may appear.
The reaction of most Greeks, however, was simply one of bafflement: not at
the scale of British fury, but at the depths of British peculiarity. John
Nikiteas, the lawyer representing the Kalamata 12, put it simply: "This
hobby is completely unknown to the Greeks, and it is very strange for us to
understand the attraction."
Indeed it is not easy to explain to a patriotic Greek why one might come to
this cradle of civilisation not to admire or explore, nor even to sunbathe,
but to stand by an airfield jotting down the numbers of identical planes.
As we waited for Mrs Coppin to be released today outside the prison, I tried
to convince my taxi driver, Michalis Mitropoulos, that in Britain there
really are people who live for the thrill of photographing a foreign
military plane of no importance, even in defiance of the law. He made no
attempt to hide his incredulity and then, after a few moments of reflection,
declared: "There are only two places for such people: prison, or hospital."
Planespotters are widely regarded in Britain as amusing entertainment, but
ultimately pretty silly; the idiotic actions of the Kalamata 12 have done
little to shift that perception. Greece is widely regarded as a fine holiday
destination, but a place of slow and uncertain justice; the events of the
past month have also done little to change that view. The only person to
emerge blameless from the saga is Mrs Coppin, whose cultural priorities are
unimpeachable, and who wanted only to see the remnants of the glory that was
Greece.
Mrs Coppin's holiday from hell is finally coming to an end: her bills are
huge (although they no longer face criminal charges, the accused must each
stump up £9,000 bail), she does not feel well, the souvenirs are lamentable
and her memories of Greek architecture extend no further than the inside of
Korydallos prison. The Kalamata 12 will spend Christmas at home, but may
have to return to face misdemeanour charges, which would probably carry a
suspended sentence.
In the wake of the imbroglio, Greek and Briton remain deeply confused and
suspicious about each other's customs and peculiarities, but two thing are
certain: Mrs Coppin will be going elsewhere for her holidays next year, and
planespotting won't catch on in Greece any time soon.
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Wonderful bit of writing.
RT Murphy
FRIDAY DECEMBER 14 2001
Spot the difference
BY BEN MACINTYRE
The British enjoy the thrill of taking photographs of foreign military
planes and noting down their numbers. The Greeks think those who do so are
either spies or mad. Our reporter in Athens reports on the cultural
differences that divide the two countries
Everyone has a bad holiday story, about the inedible food, the truculent
natives, the hotel like a prison, the peculiar companions. But Lesley Coppin
's story goes one worse: her accommodation was a prison and the past month
abroad has been spent in the company of a woman who diced up her husband and
buried him under an onion patch.
In early November, Mrs Coppin set off with her second husband Paul for a
relaxing week in Greece, part belated honey-moon, part hobby tour: while her
planespotting spouse and his friends visited the military airfields that are
their passion, she planned to read a few books on the minibus, and then
spend the last days of the holiday touring ancient Greek ruins.
Today Mrs Coppin, 51, was finally hoping to leave Korydallos high-security
prison, one of the nastiest jails in Europe, after five weeks behind bars on
charges of military espionage for looking - or in her case not looking - at
elderly Greek aircraft. Mrs Coppin had planned to explore the Acropolis;
instead she found herself sharing a fetid cell with 13 women and facing a
possible prison sentence of 20 years.
The decision this week by Greek judges to reduce the charges and allow the
Coppins to be released on bail, along with ten other planespotting Britons
and two Dutchmen, has brought to an end one of most bizarre international
legal disputes of modern times, but it has left Mrs Coppin, a grandmother
who works as the deputy manager of Domino's Pizza in Mildenhall, Suffolk,
with the sort of holiday memories that nightmares are made of. Perhaps the
cruellest irony is that she, unlike her husband, is very bored by military
aircraft and does not know an AH49 from a B52.
The incarceration of the planespotters has driven the Daily Mail into an
anti-Greek frenzy, prompted questions in Parliament, diplomatic
representations by the Foreign Office and Prime Minister, and enraged
comparisons between the Greek Government and the Taleban; it has angered and
confused many Greeks, provoked resentment within the Greek military
establishment, exacerbated tensions between Greece and Turkey and brought
relations between Athens and London to their lowest ebb for years; it has
cast a light into the strange world of the planespotter, and another into
the paranoid mind of Greek military officialdom; it has spawned some
familiar jokes and some pompous newspaper columns.
But above all, the incident has revealed the unbridgeable cultural gulf
between two exotic European species: the average British planespotter and
the typical Greek military policeman. European commissions, parliaments,
courts and currencies may seek to bring Europeans closer, but these two
creatures simply do not inhabit the same psychological universe - which is
why Mrs Coppin ended up in a dank cell with prostitutes and murderers.
Mr Coppin runs a travel company, Touchdown Tours, specialising in excursions
to airshows, military installations and, most importantly, to foreign
airfields in order to spot military jets.
Planespotters deem themselves a more glamorous version of trainspotters - if
such a distinction is possible - but the object of the hobby is much the
same: see an aircraft, note down its identification number and, if possible,
take a photograph; then spend hours in arcane conversation with other
planespotters, over Thermos and sandwiches, often in the rain. This uniquely
British pastime follows a grand tradition of eccentricity: it is not
complicated, physically dangerous or athletic. In the minds of most people
it is merely harmless, pointless, and mind-crushingly boring.
But to its most enthusiastic practitioners it verges on compulsion, and of
all the myriad varieties of planespotters, the most obsessive are the
"militaries", who spot military planes. Not for them the humdrum pleasures
of a Heathrow passenger jet; they long for the forbidden thrill of a Mirage
glimpsed across barbed wire on a cold East European runway, the smell of
military jet fuel in the morning, the challenge of getting around the guards
to jot down that elusive tail number. These men - and they are almost all
male - are the über-nerds of planespotting, anoraks with attitude for whom
no military plane is too dull or obscure, no airfield out of bounds.
Mr Coppin knew what he was up against in Greece, and his account of a
similar planespotting visit to the country last year now reads like pure
irony. "I would warn that spotting in Greece is still not particularly liked
by the authorities and without our contacts in the Greek Ministry of
Defence, which helped on a number of occasions, the trip might have been a
little longer than anticipated." Mr Coppin even appears to have relished the
risks.
On his website he eagerly records a visit to an F104 storage area at Araxos
last year: "This was our closest call with the security forces during the
whole trip, so care is definitely needed here."
On November 8, the 14 tourists, having paid £650 for the week-long trip,
arrived at the military airbase in Kalamata in the Peloponnese. Mrs Coppin
stayed in the minibus, doing a crossword puzzle, while the others trooped
off to see what they could see. By this point, the spotters had already
visited airbases at Tanagra, Andravida and Araxos, and Mrs Coppin was bored
stiff. Greek officials say the group had been repeatedly warned that its
activities were suspicious and told not to take photographs; it had been
detained, cautioned and released once already. But the "militaries" laughed
in the face of danger: this, after all, was the annual feast of Saint
Michael, patron saint of fighter pilots, when the Greek Air Force
traditionally (if cautiously) opens its doors to visitors.
"We had an invitation to attend the open day at Kalamata that was signed by
a Greek Air Force brigadier. We left the cameras in the minibuses as we were
told," Mr Coppin says. Within minutes the entire group, including the
hapless Mrs Coppin, were rounded up, marched off to a Greek military police
station and accused of espionage or, more exactly, "walking suspiciously"
through a military area.
The British tabloid press immediately leapt to the defence of the "Kalamata
12", insisting that innocent, if somewhat quirky, Britons were being cruelly
used by barbaric foreigners. From the Greek perspective, matters looked
rather different. Photographic equipment, whether used or not, near military
installations is suspicious, but, in the wake of September 11, Kalamata
airbase, the home of the Greek Air Force academy, was on the highest
security alert. Despite repeated warnings, the group persisted in its quest
for sensitive aircraft serial numbers. If a group of foreigners had been
noticed lurking around the perimeter of a British military airbase armed
with binoculars, notebooks and telephoto-lenses in the wake of the terrorist
attacks, the British police might also have taken an interest; at least one
sincerely hopes they would have. Spies have been known to use spotters as
cover before, and during the Cold War spies pretending to be trainspotters
gathered useful military information in Albania.
There is also one other crucial factor: Britain has roughly 10,000
planespotters; Greece has precisely none. In Britain people who hang around
airbases spotting military planes are benign, Bovril-drinking eccentrics; in
Greece they are spies.
What the Greek authorities subsequently discovered redoubled their
suspicions. Inside the planespotters' luggage was a shortband radio scanner,
used for eavesdropping on conversations between pilots and ground control.
Their notebooks were full of the serial numbers of army helicopters
operating out of Megara, a high-security base near Athens that is off-limits
to civilians. During interviews with police, Mr Coppin neglected to mention
that the group had been to Megara; more importantly, he failed to mention
that earlier this year he had toured airbases in Turkey, which has not
always had the most cordial relations with Greece, as a guest of the Turkish
military. Nothing could have looked more dodgy in Greek eyes, and Mr Coppin'
s excuse that he had been in similar contact with the Greek military did
nothing to dampen suspicions.
Greece is gearing up to host the Olympic Games in 2004 and issues of
security are high on the national agenda. Moreover, the country has just
taken delivery of a secret new aircraft: an adapted Embraer jet, modified to
carry an airborne early-warning system. According to some reports, the Greek
authorities believe the group took photographs of the new plane. Another
factor contributing to Greek sensitivity may be the fact that it has already
supplied two of its aged Huey helicopters to neighbouring Macedonia, which
is facing deep internal conflict with ethnic Albanians.
The arrested planespotters insisted that the radio scanner had not been
used. Mr Coppin said he had not told the authorities (or his lawyer) about
going to Megara because the top-secret airbase had not been on the original
itinerary. He said they had simply seen planes as they were driving along
the road, and got out of the minibus with their binoculars and notebooks and
got spotting.
The unconvinced Greek authorities called in the prosecutors, and Mrs Coppin
was bundled off to Korydallos prison while the men were incarcerated in
Nafplion. On November 12 they were charged with espionage, the ponderous
Greek legal system lumbered into action and Britain erupted in
self-righteous fury.
Planespotting is pursued by relatively few Britons, but bashing foreigners
who arrest Brits is a sport the whole nation can enjoy. The Daily Mail began
a campaign to force the release of the Kalamata 12 - and may be negotiating
to pay some of their bail as a publicity stunt - to the point where the
Greek Embassy is getting thousands of e-mails and letters, and sales of
Greek products are falling. Edward Heathcoat Amory invoked
Palmerston,recalling for Mail readers the occasion when the then Foreign
Secretary sent a naval squadron to blockade the Greek coast in defence of a
lone British citizen. The Spectator issued a ferocious harangue against the
"sadistic and moronic" actions of the Greek authorities, insisting that the
Taleban treated their foreign prisoners better and demanding a boycott of
the Olympic Games. Baron Lamont of Lerwick fulminated about the dangers of
European-style justice, and Boris Johnson MP declared the judges, in a
region famed for its olives, to be the pits: "Are these Greek judges just a
few olives short of a picnic?" he demanded.
"I am not a spy. All I want to do is go home," Mrs Coppin wailed from her
cell, as Britain's media enjoyed the pungent tang of taramasalata jokes and
planespotting witticisms: Greek meets Geek was irresistible, but here, too,
was an opportunity to bring other sins into account. Why were a few harmless
enthusiasts being persecuted in the name of anti-terrorism, when Greece has
so signally failed to tackle the November 17 Marxist-Leninist terrorist
group, despite a string of horrific attacks, including the still-unsolved
murder 18 months ago of Brigadier Stephen Saunders, the British military
attaché?
Others pointed out that Britain could have precious little interest in
spying on the tatty and outdated Air Force deployed by Greece, a fellow
member of Nato. If the serial numbers of the 35-year-old Huey helicopters
were so secret, why were they painted in large white letters on the side of
each aircraft? And if Megara is such a sensitive site, why is it visible
from a busy road, and how come it has been used as the location for a
popular Greek television drama series about fighter pilots? Almost all Greek
military serial numbers are available in defence manuals and aircraft
directories anyway, and if Britain had really wanted to spy on a Greek
military base, the job could have been done far more easily by satellite
than with a bunch of ill-dressed tourists in a minibus in broad daylight.
"Planespotting must be one of the most eccentric hobbies known to mankind,
but it is not an indication of ill-will or a threat to Greek national
security," insists Denis MacShane, the junior Foreign Office minister.
Some in Greece responded angrily to the British barrage, with one Greek
newspaper claiming that Britain was deliberately trying to undermine the
tourist trade (2.5 million Britons visit Greece annually) ahead of the
Olympic Games. There was, clearly, grandstanding on the Greek side, too,
most particularly from the Kalamata investigating magistrate, Panayiotis
Poulious, who seized his 15 minutes of international fame with both hands.
The Greek Government was plainly embarrassed, particularly after the
personal intervention of Tony Blair, but rightly pointed out that the Greek
judiciary is independent and politicians may not interfere with the law,
however slow and misguided that law may appear.
The reaction of most Greeks, however, was simply one of bafflement: not at
the scale of British fury, but at the depths of British peculiarity. John
Nikiteas, the lawyer representing the Kalamata 12, put it simply: "This
hobby is completely unknown to the Greeks, and it is very strange for us to
understand the attraction."
Indeed it is not easy to explain to a patriotic Greek why one might come to
this cradle of civilisation not to admire or explore, nor even to sunbathe,
but to stand by an airfield jotting down the numbers of identical planes.
As we waited for Mrs Coppin to be released today outside the prison, I tried
to convince my taxi driver, Michalis Mitropoulos, that in Britain there
really are people who live for the thrill of photographing a foreign
military plane of no importance, even in defiance of the law. He made no
attempt to hide his incredulity and then, after a few moments of reflection,
declared: "There are only two places for such people: prison, or hospital."
Planespotters are widely regarded in Britain as amusing entertainment, but
ultimately pretty silly; the idiotic actions of the Kalamata 12 have done
little to shift that perception. Greece is widely regarded as a fine holiday
destination, but a place of slow and uncertain justice; the events of the
past month have also done little to change that view. The only person to
emerge blameless from the saga is Mrs Coppin, whose cultural priorities are
unimpeachable, and who wanted only to see the remnants of the glory that was
Greece.
Mrs Coppin's holiday from hell is finally coming to an end: her bills are
huge (although they no longer face criminal charges, the accused must each
stump up £9,000 bail), she does not feel well, the souvenirs are lamentable
and her memories of Greek architecture extend no further than the inside of
Korydallos prison. The Kalamata 12 will spend Christmas at home, but may
have to return to face misdemeanour charges, which would probably carry a
suspended sentence.
In the wake of the imbroglio, Greek and Briton remain deeply confused and
suspicious about each other's customs and peculiarities, but two thing are
certain: Mrs Coppin will be going elsewhere for her holidays next year, and
planespotting won't catch on in Greece any time soon.
------------------------ Yahoo! Groups Sponsor ---------------------~-->
Break free. Great
American Smokeout
http://us.click.yahoo.com/3vN8tD/.pSDAA/ySSFAA/DiTxlB/TM
---------------------------------------------------------------------~->
Your use of Yahoo! Groups is subject to http://docs.yahoo.com/info/terms/