Lovely way to start the weekend: toothache at 03.00. Well, gum ache really, so just swollen and a dull throbbing, and my midnight feast of an anti-inflammatory tablet should see me through to late morning when I am due in the dentist’s chair for a root canal, which may now have to wait… Hey! But at least I can still walk there and back. At least, I could the last time.

You’ve always got to look on the bright side, and once this morning’s visits are out of the way, I should have a few days with no ‘extras’ to interrupt my morning work routine, such as popping out for this, or going to pick up that. Mind you, since I had to change credit cards for security reasons, I will have to pop down to DHL next week to collect the new one. Do we still have DHL here? If not, the delivery will be passed on to another service and will still get here. At least, it did last time.

We’ve had a bit of a battle these past two weeks, what with water issues and other bits and pieces. We’re not as badly off as the house over the road that has no water (as mentioned yesterday), because the pressure is too low – and no wonder when we have new high-end tourist accommodation opening up where the apartments come with their own built-in terrace jacuzzi or plunge pool. Read that again. Built-in pools. On terraces/flat roofs. On an island under an official drought notice. Where some people get no water for basic living. Where some people don’t/can’t flush the toilet until absolutely necessary, and stand in a plastic bowl in the shower to catch water to flush with, and generally save as much water as they can… So that the wealthy tourist can sit in a small pool on their roof and watch the sea, all the while pretending they are on Santorini – which, it seems, is what some people want the island to become. You’ve got the money for a classy holiday? Good on you. It’s not your fault some businessman is using local residents’ meagre supplies and infrastructure to fuel his income. And, I assume, in my naivety, that the council will be charging said apartments extra fees or whatever, and using that income to bring in more water for the islanders who support the island all year round, to replace that wasted on Mr & Mrs Cash’s rooftop ‘pool.’ (Times several, because this isn’t a lone case.) I wonder what this has done to the island’s protected status, and if other homeowners, having seen the strict rules bent for one, will bend their own and start putting in things that are ‘illegal’ according to the archaeology services that protect the island.

I could go on, because I am as inflamed as my gum at the moment, but I don’t know all the facts, and have only seen images which might be AI-generated like the false advertising for that windmill accommodation last year. Lit all around by pretty lights, lovely terrace, all mod cons… Er, no. Across the other side of a building site, having very few amenities like no washing up bowl or kitchen furniture, no table… toilet in a cupboard under the stairs… “Doesn’t matter, they paid €120 a night for it, and we made some money.”

The sooner I get my gum deflated and some more painkillers in my gob, the better, eh? Right then. I’m off to 1895, rural Kentish life, blacksmithing, and the trials of Oscar Wilde. Have a great weekend!

You might have been wondering if the Symi Festival is happening this year, and the answer is yes. It begins on Saturday with a concert from Dimos Anastasiades, and this will take place in the town square in the evening.

Also going on in Symi this weekend, a two-day conference at the Cultural Centre, starting on Saturday. With a rich program of presentations covering Symi’s journey from mythology and antiquity to modern history, its maritime tradition and its cultural heritage, the 2nd Annual Symi Historical Conference entitled “Symi through the Ages” will take place next Saturday, August 1st and Sunday, August 2nd. Article from Real Voice.

Other events from the only programme I’ve seen so far include, the festival of Ag Sotiris on Tuesday, a concert by Χριστίνα Σάλτη on Monday 6th, a performance by the Symi Theatre group on the 8th translated as: “Romeo and Juliet…for cheers and laughter,” and on Sunday 9th, Traditional dances by the Symi Women’s Union accompanied by musicians Michalis and Iakovos Missos. These will also be in the square in Yialos.

That’s just the start. If you want to see all events listed, click here for the PDF program. It is in Greek first, and then in English.

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This next part rambled out of control, so I went back and dropped in some random photos.

In other news… Er… Plumer visited again yesterday, but this was for the house over the road which draws its water from the same mains feed as ours, which is in our courtyard, so we played host, but not, for a change, the patient, and the problem was diagnosed: not enough pressure for the feed to reach the tank. I know this water business is a recurring theme, and some may wonder ‘What’s the problem?’ In this case, the problem is this:

Imagine a tree upside down.

At the top sits the reservoir, and the trunk is the mains feed, the large black pipes you might see following the edges of paths around the village. For around four hours on a Monday, Wednesday and Friday, our tree trunk is opened, and the water is allowed to flow from the top to the bottom. On the way, it branches off to the properties on its route; this it does via various smaller branches, each one of which leads to a sterna beneath a house or a water tank like ours.

Let’s say there are 100 houses on this route (I don’t know the exact number, I’m not that much of a nerd). In the winter, half of those houses are closed up and their water intake turned off, or their sternas are full. Therefore, the pressure from above is fine to push the water back uphill if needs be – as it needs to be to fill ours and the one over the road, which is slightly higher in altitude than ours. However, when summer comes, and the other properties are let to tourists, opened for visiting families and so on, the same water pressure has to do all 100 tanks, and the pressure is simply not enough. It’s a clear illustration of the island’s water issues in the summer.

Too many visitors? (Need the income they bring.) Not enough water in the reservoirs? (Let’s build bigger ones and really blight the scenery.) What’s the answer? (I don’t know.) What I do know from firsthand experience, though is that when someone who usually lives in, say, Athens, comes to stay in their once-a-year holiday home, the first thing they do is fill the sterna. Fine. The next thing they do is get through the same 300 litres of water a day as they might back in Athens without thinking – and that’s why our other neighbours got through 600 litres of water in 48 hours last weekend. For those of us used to saving, not wasting water, that amounts to roughly five days’ worth. Slightly more, actually.

Anyway, the property opposite is still without water and has been for over a week, but there is nothing we can do for our neighbour other than offer buckets of water drawn from the mains as extra on water days and offer her to use our shower, if the lady from the mainland downstairs hasn’t got through the whole 1,000 litre barrel again by then.

Today’s message? Be aware and turn it off!

I’m stuck with a no-news day for a change, so I thought about a quick mention of a place in the village that I don’t know too much about. I mean, I know what I know, but I don’t know if it’s open for viewing, and if so, when, but after some recent renovations (or some work to the building at least), it looks like it should be open to the public as a local monument in the same way the Folklore Museum has been renovated and is open.

The Old Pharmacy, as it’s known (traditionally known as the Spetsaria), stands on the ‘main road’ through the village. That, in Symi terms, translates to the five-foot-wide path from Taverna Zoi to the village square, through which you can fit a vehicle if you have a slim one, or if you drive the bin truck, which seems to fit through anywhere. Come straight up the Kali Strata and carry straight on (after you’ve stopped for a drink to recover), and just before the butcher’s shop, and just after the Airbnbs that used to be shops and apothikies, you’ll find it on your right. There is a date on the lintel which tells you when it was first opened. (1884.)

Over the years, I have been told a few things about this building and what’s inside. Some or all of this might be made up, but I was told the first doctor to work there was English. It was built in the island’s 19th-century heyday as a pharmacy and medical centre, and you can still see the original shelves, bottles and the counter, or you could when I last went in many years ago. When we first came to live here in 2002, it was still being used as the village medical centre, and ‘the Russian doctor,’ as he was known, used to hold his surgery in one of the side rooms. Customers would wait inside the main pharmacy shop itself, which was a pleasantly odd and historic experience (depending on what was wrong with you).

Then, it was closed for a while, then ‘open’ as a place to visit, and I went in when on a guided tour of the village run by John Thomas. Later and briefly, I did the same thing with interested parties, though it was hardly ever open by then. It sat for several years, with bits starting to fall off or out, but in recent years, some attention was paid, and it’s back to what we have now.

Sorry, only vague info, I’m afraid, but all the same, it’s worth standing and admiring even if it is closed; a wonderful neoclassical; building with (French?) woodwork for the cabinets, still in their original cream-coloured paint, and the ceramic jars and buttles carrying the French names of their ingredients, and something of a step back in time if and when you can poke your nose in.

I hope this doesn’t become another hardly used Airbnb. ‘Wouldn’t surprise me,’ moaned Eeyore. ‘Everywhere else is.’

Take a look as you’re passing, and if you have any stories or info about the place, leave them as a Facebook comment on the Symi Dream page for others to read.

A visit to the port of Yialos. For any but the very rich or very ill, arriving it Symi’s main port of Yialos is a watery affair. Where we have a helipad for emergency, military and occasionally private arrivals by air, and despite rumours both believed and made up that the island is to have an airport, the only way to arrive is by boat. It’s also the best way, if you ask me, but then, the only way I have arrived, so maybe choppering in from your luxury yacht is also enjoyable, but you’re not going to get the same sights.

The houses around the harbour have been described in many guides, novels and articles, and I’ve seen some cringers. Multi-coloured houses nestling… Homesteads jostle like excitable spectators awash with the colours of the Greek flag*… Like eager children rushing down to meet the azure, blue waters of the Aegean Sea…

The writers’ obsession with ‘Greece means blue’ continues into the water and a sea which has also been described as cerulean, cobalt, Capri, and Persian blue in colour. They’ve not seen it on a winter’s day when dark storms and swells keep ‘boats rocking tentatively against the ancient harbour walls where once fishermen and sponge divers plied their time-honoured…’ Oh, do give it a rest.

[* This must have been one of those AI aneurisms, because the Greek flag is only made up of blue and white, and as I was always taught that white was a shade and not a colour, and as there are few ‘blue’ houses, and none in that typical Greek blue-and-white square house design, one has to wonder what this nonsense is all about.]

I plodded off down the Kali Strata yesterday morning early, as always, so I didn’t have to rush in the hope that I would arrive at the dentist dry, rather than in my usual state of dripping wet and ‘sparkling with drops of clear diamante beads that speak of…’ [Shudders.] Said hello to a few people I knew and caught up with some quick news, nodded here, kalimera-ed there, dodging bikinis and pink flesh, and taking a minute to admire the 11.02 from Platia to Nimborio, building up steam at its station… And, after a chat with the dentist and a few laughs about life, slithered into the chair for the final stage of a root canal, which took all of five minutes and hurt not one jot. Back again on Friday for the next one, but at least, after that’s done, I will be able to eat and drink things above and below body temperature without wincing, suffering a headache for half an hour or complaining.

That done and the next visit arranged, it was a case of wandering back towards the bus stop with ten minutes to spare at least before departure, and being captivated by a cab on the way, so taking that instead. Here’s a debate finally settled; it now costs €6.00 to come up from Yialos to Horio by taxi, not, as some around me have been insisting, ‘still only a fiver.’ Still very worth it, if you ask me. It gave me time to reply to the landlord about the water problem his other property was having (no water, been here before), and how yes, the feed tap is on, no our plumber didn’t disconnect it the other day and why would he, and, for the last time, the water supply from the mains starts the day at virtually no pressure but usually perks up after it’s had its coffee, and all water arrangements at these two houses are pretty rubbish, and anyway, when’s the house opposite going to have its own feed and meter and not come through ours? (When the paperwork goes through, and as it’s taken a year with the water company already, probably not very soon.) We gave the poor neighbour a bucket we had filled to water the plants with, so she could at least flush, and together, we examined the Heath Robinson arrangements of pipes and taps, only to discover what we already knew: the water was coming in, but it would take forever to fill the tanks. Just as it took all morning to fill our new one-ton barrel because the lady downstairs had used, in my estimation, around 600 litres of water in two days. (WTF comes to mind.)

Finally home less than one hour after leaving it, the day returned to as near normal as days get around here, and life continued in its sweaty summer way.

The village changed slightly yesterday, because the extra-fine dining establishment, Barra, opened in the village last night. It’s situated where the Jean & Tonic bar used to be, opposite the two new Airbnb’s that used to be a tiny shoe shop and, beside it, George’s family butchery. That’s about all I can tell you about the new restaurant for now, except that it looks very exclusive and from some guest images I’ve seen, very modern.

Right. Now, I must get on.

Well, last week was something of an up-and-downer. We shall draw a veil over the 2.5 days without water and the day without a water pump, a contretemps with the landlord about all that, Neil going down with a mystery virus and (for the first time) being signed off work for two days by the doctor, someone trying to get into my bank card account, and some other niggles. We shall lift the same veil, though, on the help we received re the water situation and the pump, the kind attentions of the clinic and friends, and the cooler weather, and we’ll carry on, fortified by experience.

Oh my, the wind last week! One day, it was 37° and calm in the afternoon, and by the next morning, only 27°, half the leaves of the vine ended up in the porch, and some scuttled their way in through the open front door and made it as far as the kitchen. There were a couple of days when the taxi boats and small craft were unable to sail, though the day boats continued to bounce in. Strong winds up to 5 Bf are predicted for Tuesday evening this week, but otherwise, the Windfinder channel tells me it will be calm, perhaps with a force four this evening. We also had some cloud pass over briefly – the tail end of a large storm further north, I think.

Visitors continued to visit, and it was good to see a few visiting families in the square in the afternoon ordering their blue lagoons and G&T’s and having a good time. It was also nice to see our neighbours back for a few weeks’ holiday. Of the houses in front of us, three out of four are holiday homes, and we only see the neighbours at this time of the year, sometimes for a short while earlier in the year, and I wonder if they were out at last night’s Symi Shrimp Festival. This is always held in the village square on the last Sunday of July, and there is one of Panormitis’ video shorts below, so you can see the dancing. (I was, of course, fast asleep by the time it started, but it sounded like it was going well.)

As for this week… I am thoroughly enjoying work on my next book, which will be different from the previous ones, though also set in the late 19th century. This time, though, it’s not about detectives in London, but a blacksmith in a small village on the Kent Downs, just off Stone Street – for anyone who knows that old Roman road. I ordered a book to help with my research, so don’t be surprised if you soon find me setting up as a farrier and blacksmith, operating out of a home smithy just off the square.

No, that’s hardly likely. When forced to do metalwork at school when I would rather have done ‘commerce’, it took me an entire term to bend a piece of steel into something resembling the shape of a hacksaw handle, which was almost as terrible as my attempts in woodwork to create a wooden fish for no discernible reason. Imagine if boys had been allowed to do ‘commerce’ instead. Only the girls were taught the useful arts of touch typing and shorthand, two things which I would have found much more useful in later life. Ah well. I continue to clatter the keyboard in the manner of an infinite number of monkeys in the hope that one word in five is types correctly… typed correctly. See?

I also have Barchester Towers to read, so as soon as I can, I shall spend my afternoon quiet time with my Trollope before lighting the forge.

In the meantime, here is that short video of the annual celebration of the Symi shrimp. Well, not just the one shrimp, but the thousands, millions probably, that are caught in season, frozen, and served up in just about every restaurant on the island throughout the summer.