’Twas a busy weekend for the island for sure. The ferries leaving the island today and in the next few days will be full of passengers, pilgrims, and their transport, and hopefully, people who had a good time at the Panormitis festival that took place this weekend. The photos and videos doing the rounds show hundreds of people celebrating and worshipping under clear blue skies, with the island’s churches that are dedicated to St Michael hosting services and gatherings, food and feasting.

We did some of that ourselves, though at this end of the island. Godson Harry came for lunch on Friday, and the three of us spent several hours chatting and catching up with news and hearing of his adventures working at a hotel in Rhodes for the summer season. Fun times, hard work, seven months of relentless routine with only a little time off, difficult guests, flooding (during the recent storms), driving lessons, driving test, first car purchase, now back to college and the offer of a second year in a higher position at the same hotel for next season, and then… his future plans, but no point getting into all that now. A lovely afternoon and followed by another one the next day, when the whole ‘family’ met for lunch in Yialos.

The harbour cafes were doing a roaring trade, with some having their tables and chairs out on the quayside, the roads filled with pedestrians, and the tavernas that were open also looked to be doing good business. We had booked into O Liris on the town square, another place that was non-stop and turning around tables, and serving wonderful food. I can recommend the spetsofai, a sausage and pepper stew, just as I can recommend everything else we had to share on the table, which included chicken with ouzo, calamari, beetroot dip and… Well, next time you’re here, go there.

When here, you might hear some people, mainly Brits, referring to an eatery in Yialos called O’Leary’s. They’re talking about O Liris, and often call the place ‘The Irish bar.’ That description couldn’t be further from the truth, as it’s 100% Greek, but the warm welcome and friendly hosting are, in my experience, similar in both. There was more time for catching up and discussing future plans around the dining table, and we, although now older, reverted to the mayhem of our traditional family meals of the past, but without the boys squabbling when not staring at their phones, and without Neil dressing up in something outrageous, doing his best to embarrass them, and poking his tongue in people’s ears. We’re all grown up now, or on our way there, but that didn’t stop us having a good time. The event came with the added attraction of a lift home in Harry’s new car, and you don’t get a much better treat than that. (Because you’re able to reassure yourself that the young’un is a safe driver, and willing to turn the rap music down to a less thumping level when he has ‘elderly’ passengers.)

Sunday was, by comparison, a very quiet day at home with writing and household things to see to (which are still waiting to be seen to, of course), and with getting things in order for Neil’s Scotland trip which starts with the early morning Blue Star on Wednesday. This was made possible by the free airline tickets we won on New Year’s Day, though I am not going and gave my ticket to Jenine, who is also off on an adventure shortly. I shall be here, probably doing very little other than writing and trying to promote books, and keeping a promise: to do some sorting out and throwing away in the mousandra. If it’s been up there for more than five years without being used, it’s finally leaving the house. Though maybe not the speakers I bought back in 1983 which have been up there for 12 years, or the amp I’ve not used for all that time but can’t throw away because it was a good one, nor any of the other clutter that’s gathered there waiting to be of use one day. All that’s to come later this week, and I’ll keep you posted.

It’s the end of the blogging week for me, and it’s been a varied one. Rainstorms, new leaks to investigate and plug, some online Christmas shopping, some more local, the bar finally closing after 40 or so years, extending the house rental contract for a year, cutting back the vine, and now, the Panormitis Festival starting tomorrow. We also have Harry coming for lunch today, which means catching up on news and admiring his first car. (Which, in time, should result in free pickups from Rhodes Airport and generally having someone to run us around when over there. I mean, apart from the obvious duties, there’s got to be a point to being a godfather, hasn’t there?)

While all that has been going on, I’ve desperately been trying to sell books, but run into problems with social media, in that Facebook no longer allows you to put up more than two external links a month. This means I can’t point people to my latest books or a promotion in which they are shown. I can only link into Facebook, which is why those who use it can still see notifications about my blog posts, but let’s not get into that. We’re now also competing against the thousands of AI-written ‘novels’ coming online every day, drenching the market with stuff that reads like wallpaper paste. And that’s while batting off more than ten spam emails from book promoters per day. I just counted, and I had 14 overnight. All deleted after being marked as spam. Among them was one for the Symi Dream calendar, so they’ve got their little computer programmes scouring for calendars now too: Dear Neil, I noticed your Symi Dream Calendar 2027 and appreciate the work behind…  

Meanwhile, in another inbox: “I came across your book and wanted to reach out with a quick idea.” That’s a common opening gambit. I ignore anything with ‘reach out’ used in this way. “Our network reaches more than 400,000 book lovers…” As a mate from Keighley used to say, ‘Does it ’ell as like.’ Here’s a good one: “Mi nombre es DulceM digital y me pongo en contacto…” No idea, love, sorry. Something about a digital pongo? What’s that then? Here’s my favourite of the week, and it’s 100% true. It started with: Hello Marigold, which had me laughing but not hooked. It then went on: i came across Deadly Library Late Fees and the tagline caught me before I even reached the plot.  Didn’t even reach the title, did you? Assuming this was to make me reply with indignation, I marked it as spam and deleted it.

Anyway, I didn’t come here for that, but to wish you a good weekend ahead. Enjoy the festival if you are here for it, and watch out for Symi TV videos (YouTube and elsewhere) if you’re not; I am sure there will be many.

There is a character in my recent series of Victorian detective novels who has the ability, through logical thinking, to answer questions before someone asks them. He’ll often meet a client of the detective agency not with a greeting, but with an answer. So, in the style of Will Merrit, here’s the same from me: No, I don’t know what will happen next. There are other answers ready for you too, and the next one is: Yes, he’s fine. Now, here’s what will cause the questions:

The Rainbow Bar in the village has closed. Not just for the winter, but for good. After something like 40 years in the business, Yiannis has officially retired, and the bar won’t be opening again. This has nothing to do with health, that I know of, so yes, he’s fine, and in answer to the net one: We had an inkling, but chose to wait until he told us himself rather than speculate and cause gossip. No, we don’t know what he has planned; a quiet time not working from nine until midnight at the age of seventy-something, I expect. And: He’s not sure, is the answer to what will Neil do for work next year? Apart from being customers in the late 90s, our association with the bar began in 2004, and between us, we have worked there for 22 years. The siesta shift won’t be the same again, and Neil’s four o’clock club that replaced the social gathering point that was our shop’s wine nights, won’t happen in the future. Not there, at least. Who knows? We shall have to wait and see.

I know what will come next too; suggestions, both meant and flippant, so here are the responses to those. No, we will not take it over. Because, for one thing, the rent was around 2K per month, 12 months of the year, and we don’t want to start another business, nor do we have funds to do so. And then: No, I still have no idea what will happen to the building. No, Yiannis doesn’t own it and never has, and, yes, I know you have all manner of helpful ideas about someone revamping and carrying it on, about a younger person taking it on and updating it and making it into this or that, and, again, who knows? Already, in recent years of speculation, the place has been destined to become a hotel, a set of Airbnb apartments, another kafeneion, a piano bar, a taverna, and yes, it would make a great [insert your own idea], but to make that work, you’ll have to come and do it yourself. Oh, and then there are these: He said he didn’t want to suffer endless goodbyes from his loyal regulars, so that’s why he didn’t say anything until it was closed, not even to Neil. Yes, he is very grateful for your custom, and yes, he will miss you too, and no, I can’t pass on your individual thanks and best wishes except in the manner of a class action and say, ‘Everyone wishes you well.’ So, there you are. That’s that, and on we go.

A photo I’ve nicked from Anne (thanks, luv) and which seems to sum up today’s post rather well.

According to Poseidon, god of the sea and weather forecasting, we should now be in for a few dry days. Or we will, when these currently occurring showers have passed, which they are due to do by dawn. So, let’s not dwell on that repetitive subject, and talk about something else.

Yesterday was, for me, a day for staying in, and on my list of things to do was drafting chapter 13 of the first book in a new series. This involved some research into various things such as the depth of the Woolwich foot tunnel, illicit publications available in 1904, and the WSPU (Women’s Social and Political Union). If you want to know more about where I am going with this project, see today’s other blog through this link: Jackson Marsh. The word ‘cat’ is in the title, so that might draw some Symi fans that way…

Also on the to-do list yesterday was the ordering of some Christmas presents, small trinkets mainly, and several things that ended up being early gifts to myself, because I am a terrible shopper. I jot down gift ideas through the year: a this for him, a that for her, and a non-designated demonstrative pronoun for these who prefer to be a third-person singular gender-neutral pronoun, and then I go and lose the note. So far, it looks like one godson is getting a novelty car air freshener, a friend is in for a bathmat, and I am going to teach myself to draw with an instruction book, and a luxury pencil and drawing set. Oh, and some draught excluder, a mouse mat and a USB adaptor hub.

Meanwhile, as the day passed by beyond the shuttered shutters, I cleaned up the courtyard a little, Neil went foraging at the shops (no chance of the freezers being hacked there, not unless there’s a way of jacking steam-powered cold boxes), and I managed to get some washing dry after three days. A routine winter season day concluded with a couple of films.

It’s very quiet now. I caught a glimpse of one sailing boat coming into the harbour, but the part of the south quay we can see from up here was more or less empty. I’ve not seen a day-trip boat since Sunday, so I reckon their season is finally over, but there are some festival visitors already starting to gather, so there has been some ‘lane action’ with a noisy group coming past yesterday, some in shorts and t-shirts. They were passed by a neighbour and his wife, him driving the moped, and her on the back holding an umbrella, and I was reminded of ‘The Aristocats’ for some reason; it was very Disney.

While out and about, Neil got himself a ticket to Rhodes for the start of his Scotland trip, which starts next week. Gosh, that’s come around fast. I may pop over to Rhodes with him for a day’s shopping, if I haven’t emptied the privy purse by buying Christmas presents for myself online, and if I do go, at least it will give me something else to tell you about. We’ll see.

Today promises to be similar to yesterday, though I hope to be able to get out for a short walk, and we are having drinks with friends at the kafeneion this evening. Gosh. The social clamour of winter has begun.

Today’s reality check is for those who come to Symi, stay in a swanky new Airbnb or quaint, traditional property, a top hotel or a revamped mansion, in search of ‘the authentic Greek experience.’ You want authentic Greek? Then pay us a ridiculous sum per night to stay in our house during the winter season.

Yesterday brought the need for some new investigations. For example, ‘Where’s that coming from?’ when entering the bathroom and getting dripped on, and then noticing water trails on the kitchen wall. Before the investigation could begin, dry towels were needed to soak up the ingress, and they are few and far between at the moment, being otherwise occupied in the porch, lean-to and under the windows. Once the passing deluge had passed, I identified the issue before it returned.

The apothiki above the kitchen has a door, and there’s a gap between it and the step. This was fixed with a fill-in slat of wood plugging the gap, but this had worked loose, and now it’s expanded, and the frame started to rot, so it doesn’t fit; thus, the rain was coming into the storeroom and through the floorboards, which are the kitchen ceiling. On the outside of the door is a ‘step’ created by the original house owner out of some old pieces of railing, a dollop of cement and some wood, long since rotted. Behind this now skeletal arrangement is a plain cement wall, with the edging sealant well crumbled away. Hence, rain works its way inside the storeroom and through the cement wall outside, both directly above the bathroom door. Using all the skills gained from the ‘Home Maintenance Book for Boys (1965)’ of my youth, I found some old piece of heavy pipe, a length of discarded wood, a damp towel and a couple of bin liners, and set about a temporary fix. Rolled towel plugging the door’s gap, piece of wood shoved up against it to hold it in place, and the whole thing wrapped in the bin liners. As for the open cement patch, which needs more skilful attention, the best I could do was cover what remains of the step and hold it down with the heavy pipe. That done, the rain stopped, but the dripping continued until the now soaked internals had bled through, and the lintel will need re-rendering or whatever it’s called when the plaster and paint have bubbled, dried and fallen.

And then, rejoicing in my triumph with a cup of tea in the sitting room, I thought the new deluge had brought hail, until I found a waterfall pouring from front window to shelf to sitting-room floor, at which point, I found myself misquoting Jonathan Harker misquoting Shakespeare in ‘Dracula ’: My towels! quick, my towels! ‘Tis meet that I put them down.
These new Waterworld adventures go on top of the other new one found recently: the pointless but leaking aircon unit in the attic directly over the bed/bedroom below. Another towel lost to home maintenance.

All these things are, in theory, the responsibility of the landlord to fix, but as it took him five weeks to get us back onto hot water after the tank burst, there’s not much point in reporting them. It’s better to get them secretly seen to, even if by myself. Certainly, a lot faster. ‘Yes, I am repairing these things when I do work to the house,’ is not a helpful answer when you’re paddling up your passage, especially because, when he does finally get around to doing this work, we will have to move out. (Then, the rent will become unaffordable, and the house is more likely to be sold anyway, so we’ll be homelessly looking for another place to live, but that’s, hopefully, a story for the distant future.)

So, my authentic Greek experience jobs on this idyllic holiday island for today, weather permitting and after work this morning are: 1) dry all towels, 2) devise a better fix for the apothiki door, 3) ponder how to plug a concrete patch on a wall between door and flat roof, hidden by a cemented-in metal contraption, 3) figure out where the lean-to trickles are coming from 4) check overflows and gutters again, 5) remove dying vine branches, twigs and leaves so they don’t plug things up, 6) discover where aircon leak is coming from (I nearly forget that one), 7) go shopping, 8) stay dry.

And people ask, ‘What do you do in the winter?’