We have a few drips in places we don’t usually get drips, and the porch is an inch under water with nowhere to drain off, but other than that, we’re still standing. It’s too dark to see what’s going on out there, but when I went to bed at 21.30 last night, the wind was still shaking the house, and the walls were vibrating. Apparently, we had a severe storm alert message at some point not long after, and it didn’t help when a stray alarm went off at 04.15 this morning, waking Neil who’d only had a few hours’ sleep. (I think it was a hangover alarm, left uncancelled since Monday. According to his phone, it’s been going off every morning since.) But we’re up and about, and I have a lot of reading to do today and some mopping up later, by the looks. We’re supposed to be helping a neighbour move a heavy plant or two later and going out for an early dinner, in which case, I shall be eating very little. Why?

Not that you need to know, but I had something of a sofa day yesterday, recovering from a nasty bout of reflux that made itself apparent at 1.00 the previous morning. This happens from time to time, and I do all I can to avoid it. A fun one is not eating too late at night, which is why if anyone invites us to dinner and says, ‘Come at eight-for-half-past,’ I stare at them as though they were mad, and say, ‘Can we make it more like six? I know, but there you are. (I’ve also got the relevant pills and ointments, tinctures and poultices for this reflux thing, so no need to send advice, medical aid or thoughts, thanks. It’s one of those things.) Anyway… The point is, I wasn’t up to doing anything much yesterday, except a jigsaw on my tablet, some reading, and watching a few things on TV, while listening to the wind and rain from behind closed shutters. It’s like I missed seeing a whole day pass by, but I did pop my head into the courtyard once or twice to make sure it was still there.

Now then, there is something serious to report, because we did have something of a sad evening the one before last. Back in 19… I forget, but about 28 years ago, Neil bought me a Thunderbirds figure/doll, dressed, movable, ages 5 to 13, as a Christmas present. A bit of a laugh, something daft, but mainly because I’ve been a Thunderbirds fan since year forever. When we moved to Greece, we took Alan with us. That’s his name, for those who aren’t au fait with the classic TV series made for children aged 5 to 50 and beyond. He even joined us on the beaches on holidays now and then, and he has a voice that, when the button is pressed, says, ‘F.A.B.’ and ‘Thunderbirds are go.’ Bless. Well, on Tuesday evening, I moved him and his companions (he’s built quite a following over the years), so they wouldn’t get wet if the window leaked, and found, tragically, that one of his legs had inexplicably become detached. Not only was that a cause macabre, but the situation deteriorated when we realised he was trying to speak. With a weak, croaky rattle, like a dying Geiger counter, he grated out his last words… and wouldn’t shut up, so we put him in the laundry, there to go in peace, surrounded by his mates. The scene reminded me of ‘The Death of Nelson.’ It was very moving. He’s not going in the bin (though after 28 years, he could do with the washing machine), and I’ll find somewhere else for him when the laundry floor dries out. If it does.

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It’s a day for battening down the hatches, staying indoors, and, in our case, putting towels around the windows. According to the weather channels, we’re in for a force nine overnight tonight, with rain and high winds developing through the day. Yesterday’s forecast showed more severe weather than this morning’s prediction, but still, best be safe. It also showed a lot of Sahara dust on its way…

However, this morning, that screen is clear, so unless the layer for ‘Dust’ is temporarily out of order, it’s all blown away, somewhere. In that case, not so much ‘red rain’ leaving its red dust and sludge behind, but also, maybe a computer glitch. Tempus revelat omnia. ‘Time reveals all.’ We shall see. But the clouds have been hanging around a while now, itching for a fight and preparing to do their thing. This was Monday morning:

Tempus revelat omnia. That motto was found inscribed in a pocket watch that came to light during the investigation into the ‘Jack the Ripper Diary,’ or forgery, depending on which evidence you believe. Had it not been for it being found scratched inside the casing, the rest of the watch might have been more believable, as it also had the initials of the canonical five Ripper victims scored into the metal. To add a kind of ‘You’ll see’ in Latin seems a little suspect if you ask me. But on the subject of ‘You’ll see’, we’ll now see what the day holds in store. It’s still dark, so I can’t comment on the skies, but I can hear the occasional gust of wind, though nothing dramatic. Let’s hope it isn’t too bad, because I saw several visitors wandering around yesterday evening, I think, looking for somewhere to eat, and they may be in for a shock if they’ve not experienced an island storm before. Things could get wild, but there’s no need to send thoughts and prayers. We’ve dealt with bad weather before. Hey! Maybe the phrase of the day should be Tempest revelat omnia.

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Set the alarm for 03.15 and head to bed at nine. Wake up at 1.45 to do one of those nighttime visits in the cold. Back to bed. Alarm at 03.15 met by groans and, ‘Gotta get on with it.’ Kettle, tea, check Marinetrafic.com and boat looks to be on time as it’s just coming into Tilos. Second cup of tea. Pack a bag. (Phone charger, battery thing, spare t-shirt for when sweaty after walking, jacket as it’s still pitch black and cold out, previous test results, a book to read, spare jumper, a banana you know you’ll never eat…) Try to find trainers not worn since last October. Under bed. Found. Check everything is unplugged and off, windows shut, towels down against any rain, take the rubbish to the bin, and off down the hill at 04.30.

A gentle walk down the slope interrupted by a message that the boat will be an hour late. Could go to the port’s café and sit among the early morning smell of coffee, toast and cigarettes, but wander on to stand by the water and wait, and watch the night turn to morning, and chat to people and… 06.05, boat arrives. It’s the ‘Paros’, because the ‘Patmos’ is being valeted back in Piraeus.

On boat, coffee, watch sun come up, photograph the clouds (Neil. The photos will be along one day), gentle crossing, gradual walk off as we’re in no hurry, and off around the seafront and through the Old Town to find breakfast. Settle on Koukos because it’s about the only place open, and go for a Greek salad omelette. It’s like a pizza, but the base is a plain omelette. There’s no tomato sauce, but there are fresh tomatoes, and the cheese is feta, and there are a few olives (strong), some peppers and chips. (Chips? A bit Spanish, but, whatever.) I manage 90%, Neil only about 50% because it’s so filling. And upwards and onwards. I shan’t bore you longer. This was really just to show you the moon yesterday morning. The cardio test was routine, and no issues. Neil invested in a shirt from Zara, while I only went on to see what shade of grey was in this season (for men, it seems the choice is grey, darker grey, black, cream, or grey).

The highlight of the day, a quick lunch with Harry who finishes his first exams this week, while starting on his college-placement summer job at Kolymbia (Rhodes) as a head waiter in a massive all-in gulag along the Gulag Archipelago coast of that part of the island.

The boat arrived back at Symi only a little late, and we began the trudge up, until Neil caught site of a neighbour from near the Rainbow, and blagged us a lift up the hill. Result.

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Thank you everyone who sent birthday wishes. I’m sorry I didn’t do individual replies, but I notice the trend these days is to put up a social media post the day after and collectively thank everyone, so that’s what I shall do. I had an idea to take you through my yesterday, which began at 05.20, as it often does, and ended at around 23.00, as it often doesn’t.

I’m up long enough to make a cup of tea and sidle straight into the office to deal with emails (for emails read spam), and am in the throes of that when husband awakes, checks on the tea situation, and changes the ritual morning dialogue by beginning with birthday wishes. These are then followed by the more traditional: Sleep well? Yes, you? Yes. (Few minutes off to let tea/coffee do its thing.) Any plans for the day? (Plans explained.) You? (Me.) Not a lot… And so the day begins.

Neil has much to do in the kitchen, and I leave him to it, and try to sell books for an hour. Then, a morning pottering around the house, trying to look useful while hoping not to be asked to help. There had been a concern that we’d have no water, Wednesday being both intake day and a bank holiday, so I go and check the tank only to find it full. The water elves have been at work when we were not looking, and we are very grateful. The main reason for joy is the fact we can have showers, and don’t have to wait until Friday to be clean. Some washing can also be done, and I can do that odd job I’ve been thinking of doing since Monday, scrubbing the bathroom floor. Meanwhile, Neil has drawn up a shopping list, and we head off to Sotiris for supplies. This is the usual case of searching around for what’s fresh and/or on the shelves, plus a few of those things you only buy now and then, but when you do… Shopping bill rages and knocks out most of the remaining spending money for the month, and there’s nothing untoward in the basket; no costly bottles of booze or anything, though I did buy a bag of frankincense for €7.00, which was an extravagance, and the price of butter these days…. OMG. I’ve moved onto Vitam or Bitam, or Βιτάμ, to be accurate. Cheaper and less cholesterol.

On which note, at some point during the morning, while also starting on the plotting for my series finale, I receive an email from the pulmonologist Neil saw in Rhodes last week, who also kindly said he would check my annual X-ray. Both good on all counts, which is good to know, and no need for me to go and see him. Later in the day, I get a phone call from our health insurance lady, who has set up the cardio checkups for Monday, so we’ll be on the 05.00 boat on Monday morning. Eek. Meanwhile, there’s much activity in the kitchen, and in the planning room where a timetable is drawn up, and supplies are checked. That done, I stay on the sofa with a puzzle or two while Neil clatters and creates.

Later, in the afternoon, Jenine arrives and joins the kitchen madness with gusto and much laughter. Something to do with egg wash and breadcrumbs being applied to chicken Kiev without having taken the clingfilm off them first. I don’t know, but I was called in to catch the laugher after the punchline, and witness the carnage. Only Neil could use every bowl and implement in the house to produce a red pepper soup, chicken, potatoes and veg. As it happened, the air frier chose yesterday to stop working, so the roasted carrots didn’t roast, and he forgot to boil the potatoes until we’d sat down, but the bread was fab, and so was everything else when it came, and that included Sam, currently hovering between winter and summer jobs. The house suddenly feels smaller with a six-foot-four godson in it.

The other one joins us by video from Rhodes where he has exams next week. He starts his summer work soon after at a massive gulag down the coast in Rhodes, where we think he’s to be a head waiter, but no-one seems sure yet. There’s much hilarity when the older brother decides to put the younger one in the fridge, from where he continues to chat away from his console in Rhodes, while we head into the sitting room to watch a film. In this case, it’s ‘The Importance of Being Earnest’ from the National Theatre, and although I’m not a great Wilde fan, I enjoy the production, and chocolate cake, some ice cream, a Nexium antiacid tablet, some Maalox and water before bed, because I don’t want to have a reflux night. Surprisingly, I don’t, and here I am, rambling away, and happy to be here and getting on with another day. Again, I probably shan’t be here on Monday, so I’ll be back, all being well, on Tuesday.

Thank you again for messages, posts, cards, emails and the birthday wishes. Later today, once I have scrubbed the kitchen floor, I shall start reading my new biography of John Steinbeck.

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A brief post today with a couple of recent photos, which clearly have the Neil touch.

I have decided on the name of the autobiography I am never going to write, ‘Almost, but not Quite.’ I’ve always thought this sums up most of many people’s lives, and it can be said about times in mine when I’ve almost got there, but didn’t. I am thinking about, say, that job promotion which I went for three times and was told ‘Almost, but not quite’ until I finally got it. Then, there was the time I entered a musical for the Vivian Ellis Prize, where the judges were big names in musical theatre, and, although shortlisted, it ultimately didn’t win (though Sir Tim Rice did jot a note in the margin, ‘There is some incredible talent here.’ Thanks, Tim). There was another time when the theatre in Brighton entered another of my shows, ‘Risk’, into the Arts Council of England Drama Awards, and it was nominated for 11 out of 13 categories, and won none (because it was a musical drama and everything else was a play). They did give us a special award for creativity because they felt sorry for us, I guess.

I’m sure I could think of others, but… Oh, there was one that happened last week. You know how I’ve mentioned spam promoters of late? The new AI-driven drivel from desperadoes hoping to make a quick buck by doing nothing, and who have no idea about books or publishing at all? Well, I received a genuine one last week, from HarperCollins. More importantly, from someone in an editorial leadership role, and more importantly still, it was genuine. She was interested in ‘Bobby’ and whether I was planning to write any more similar biographies, and what else was I up to? Could I send a sample etc.

So, I contacted her (having had my spies make sure this was genuine and not someone using HarperCollins’ name – and yes, very genuine). We had a quick exchange of very pleasant and helpful emails. I told her what I am doing, and she put me in touch with an agent – I thanked her, and her last contact was along the lines of, ‘good luck, and I hope to hear from you again when you have representation.’ So… I contacted the agent using this person’s name as advised, and saying what she told me to say (honestly, she is/was so helpful and encouraging), and the agent wrote back asking for the standard submission of the work I want them to consider and a usual covering letter. Anyway… So I’ve done that, though I don’t have anything for them to consider because I am finishing a series of self-published books, which won’t be of interest to them because they are not new. I sent them one so they could see what I can do. Anyway, another of those feelings of ‘almost but not quite,’ and here’s a goat.

I’m more than happy not going down that ‘traditional’ route with all its restrictions and having to speak to people and stuff. So, I shall potter on with what I enjoy doing and leave it at that (unless the agent gets back to me, of course). What I can say, though, is that I have reached the year of my birth (1963 without the 19), and that is a definite, not an ‘almost, but not quite.’

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