A while ago, and a while before that, and then, another while before then, a photo appeared on ‘the socials’ (i.e., Facebook), showing an image of the sunrise at Pedi. This photo was taken by Neil, and it became a ‘viral’ favourite. When I say ‘viral’, I don’t know exactly when something is deemed ‘viral’ or how it gains that much-sought-after status — much sought after by people who now aim for stardom rather than the stars, and fortune rather than finesse. These idiots with cameras pointing at themselves and talking away as if they were the experts on whatever they drone about are, to my mind, much to blame for the dumbing down of the population, particularly the young, and I consider their viral antics more of a virus than an influence.

‘Oh, Tais-toi, you moany old Tartuffe.’ Fair enough, moving on…

Neil’s photo was shared around, and that’s fine, but then it popped up a few times with other people claiming it was theirs, or suggesting it was theirs, at least. Well, here’s another one that may well go the same way, although this is watermarked (inside and out), and it may appear on a Symi calendar later this year, if he decides to put another one together.

I just wanted you to know that you saw it here first (or yesterday on his Facebook page, where it’s already had many likes and comments). You can see part of Harani around to the clock tower, the rising village behind, and the Vigla and hills behind that. By the light, you can tell it was taken just after sunrise.

You can also see that, as it was taken yesterday, the day was calm, and the sky was blue. We reached 20+ in the courtyard’s shady corner, and normal service was resumed in the weather department. I did read that we’re in for more weather nonsense, and that will include the dust from the Sahara, but so far, Poseidon Weather Systems is not showing that. Fingers crossed.

Talking of calm, quiet days, I have another in store, and this is how it started.

That’s one of our supply ships coming in, and was taken before six, so if you want sunrise pics of your own, you’ll have to be at Pedi or up by the windmills at around 5.45 to ensure a good view. Although I was quiet at home yesterday, the harbour, apparently, was ‘rammed’, and I saw at least ten day boats of one sort or another either coming to stay for their few hours, or ferrying back and forth. Another good sign. Maybe these thousands of cancelled flights are not affecting Rhodes yet? Let’s hope all that’s going on doesn’t put people off coming, because, so far, I have seen little difference on Symi – mainly the cost of some imported items is rising, as previously discussed. I can’t comment on petrol because I don’t use it, I don’t have anything to do with bookings etc., so I can’t comment there either, and as I’ve not been on a boat for several weeks now, I can’t say if they have had to increase their prices yet. In fact, I don’t know what the point of my discussing such things is, as I only see them from the outside and hear about them second hand, but I’ve got to fill this page with something.

Eek! I didn’t want to get into all that. I just wanted to share some photos, and there you have them. Share this page, by all means, but if you share only the photo, remember to give credit, otherwise you may be considered a virus.

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Although it was chilly up here at altitude yesterday, it was warmer down near sea level. The current weather is at least giving visitors a taste of the answer to the inevitable question, ‘What’s it like in the winter?’  At times, like yesterday, it’s warm in the sun and cold in the shade. From today, it promises to be calmer and warmer, so that should start cheering people up.

I have to wonder about day visitors who set off in full tourist gear, shorts, t-shirts, sandals, with a light jacket for the evening, and come across on one of the open-fronted fast boats, stopping to swim at St George on the way. Fine to start with, even though it’s not the height of summer, because you’re fuelled with excitement and derring-do on your €50 day out, and you’re determined to enjoy it. Fab. Quite right. Sun, swimming, and the entry to our gorgeous harbour. Then, a few hours wandering the streets, enjoying a lunch, maybe taking a dip at one of the dipping places around Harani or at Nos, and then, hurrying back to secure your place in the front of the open-air fast boat back. There, you sit, all pink and satisfied, and off you go, back across the sea in the full glare of the sun, and let your hair flow behind you in the biting breeze. Put on your light jacket, and realise just how burnt your shoulders are, but face to the wind and out across the high seas, having had a great day out. The next day? Skin as stiff as a board, and a nose as red as a traffic light. The moral? Take sensible precautions, and put on sunscreen even when you think you don’t need it.

There were several large parties of herded tourists yesterday, following the half-open blue umbrellas around the town before being freed for an hour or two. The train was running, the Poseidon went out with a group from the Pedi Beach Hotel, the Trawler was busying up around midday onwards as were other eateries, and the harbour was beginning to buzz. All good signs for the summer to come, we hope.

As for me, I had a great success, and it only cost me an extra €2.50. I’d ordered a book from Amazon France, to avoid confusion and delays at customs (which you can fall foul of if you buy from Amazon UK). The seller dispatched my book, which was hard to track down, and I waited. A few weeks later, I received a message from ELTA courier (the post office one) saying that my book could not be delivered. This is standard, and we tend not to take much notice of these messages, because they are usually followed by a ‘delivery waiting for you’ one once the info has been entered into the computer, or something. In this case, though, I hadn’t had one of those, but called into the post office anyway. Nothing in our PO box, but Elias saw me and told me he had something for me, and sure enough, there was the delivery. Yay! But, it cost me €2.50, because, although I had bought it via France, the seller had, I assume, arranged to buy and send it to me from the UK. From Rawtenstall, Lancashire, to be precise, a place I visited once back in the 1980s to admire but not use the dry ski slope. All the same, a small price to pay for a hard-to-find book.

And what was this book? You ask. Mind your own business, I reply… No, seriously, it was the kind of book only someone like me would want, and in this case, need (as research for my current story set in 1894). It is the highly coveted Tower Bridge Operations Manual: 1894 to date. Wonderful! It was like being a teen again. It’s got pictures and everything, including original specs and drawings, and how the thing works. I can now delve in and see if it is possible to use the bridge’s mechanics as a murder device. Well, I never do things by halves, just, maybe, half a bridge at a time.

So, while others were going hot/cold, white/pink on day trips, I was salivating over a book, and that’s what it’s like on Symi in winter… and sometimes in May.

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I think we might be returning to ‘normal service’, as far as the weather is concerned. The wind was still from the northwest yesterday, but this morning, it has died down and should be breezing from the west and dropping, with the temperature rising steadily to reach the 20° mark at the weekend. Gawd. I sound like the shipping news. That’s probably because it’s all I have today; no satirical waffling, not even after a day at home completing chapter 21 of a new first draft. You know, you pick up a lot of odd facts when researching for a novel set in the past. At least, you do if you stop every few minutes to check a fact or if a word was in existence by then.

I am currently in 1894, a fascinating time for all kinds of inventions. Did you know, for example, that pinking shears were invented in 1893 (in America), the Kellogg brothers were still only developing cornflakes, and there were over 11,000 hansom cabs in London, plus all the other carriages, carts and horse-drawn vehicles leading to a massive ‘Farage’ problem on the streets? Not only were Kellogg’s developing cornflakes, but they were also coming out with the first intercom system. I suppose they go hand in hand. When the lord of the manor wanted his breakfast in 1893, not only could he not have cornflakes, but he couldn’t buzz downstairs for the maid to bring them up. Mind you, if he were that posh, he wouldn’t have had a maid to serve him, but a footman. (Not common for grand houses to have maids serve upstairs until the early 20th century.) No such luxury here. Although cornflakes are one of the still affordable breakfast items available in the supermarkets, and we do have mobile phones instead of intercommunication devices.

As for the day ahead, I intend to pop into the town hall to ask about our water supply, and we’re meeting friends for lunch in Yialos. There should be more visiting boats today. We’ve only had the Panagia for the last two days because of the wind, but the Express came through yesterday, which is a hopeful sign that shipping is returning to normal. I was chatting with Harry over the weekend. He’s working in a hotel along the coast in Rhodes, and had just done his ‘lifeguard’ training. I had to wonder why that was necessary for a station-head in a restaurant, but he meant CPR, which is more reassuring. It’s such a big place that for a waiter to reach an incident in one of the pools would be a 200-yard dash. ‘That’s two beef stiffados, one chicken with lemon, and… Oh, one moment, luv…’ (Time passes. Waiter returns dripping…) ‘And a freshly caught cod.’ You’d have thought they’d have someone nearer, and they have, apparently. Good to know the hotel is doing it right and teaching its staff CPR and other ‘hopefully never needed’ skills in preparation for when customers see the price of a gin and tonic.

We shan’t get started on prices, because there’s nothing we can do about the rising cost of living, particularly on imported goods, which, on an island, is just about everything. If Sotiris’ chickens aren’t laying, we have to buy the off-island eggs, and not only are they not as good, but they also cost a bit more. We have a philosophy of ‘If we need it and can afford it, we’ll buy it. If we want it and can’t afford it, we still buy it, we don’t. Sadly, for many items, it is cheaper to order them from Athens and have them delivered; not the basics, but other things like electrolytes for the summer months, but that’s just the way it is.

Anyway, the images today are to show the rapidly changing colours of the island at this time of year; the contrast between the grey skies of late and the blooming plants.

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The last time we were together on this page, it was May 1st, and Greece was having its coldest Mayday on record. We’re still under the tail end of some winds strong enough to ban shipping, and I can’t help wondering if this storm has a name.

Then, I can’t help also wondering why storms have names these days? Perhaps it’s to help us remember what is battering the roof, rattling the shutters and driving rain under our doors.
‘What is that noise?’
‘Why, don’t you remember, love? That’s Boukephalas.’
‘I thought you had tablets for that.’

Maybe it’s so the howling winds sound more cosy as they rip scaffolding from buildings, and tear up trees.
‘Oh, bless. Saoirse has come to stay for the weekend. I’ll just pop out and say hello.’

I tell you what, Toto, we’ve not been in Kansas this weekend. The sea’s been grey and white, the heater has been back on (for a measured one hour, or as we like to call it, €15.00’s worth), and my first job this morning was to stick my head out of the window and find the heavy rocks that usually hold the shutters open. Very unseasonal, but when we as a species are intent on ruining our planet to keep ourselves in riches, luxury and ‘celebrity’ TV, what do we expect?

Talking of celebrity TV, we watched Gogglebox on YouTube on Saturday night because we know how to live, and I couldn’t help thinking, if this is the height of civilisation, it’s no wonder we’re a dying breed. Not that programme itself, for there is nothing wrong with watching people watch TV (ahem), but all these cheap ‘celebrity’ programmes which I might find more amusing if I had a bleedin’ clue who anyone was. It seems these days, all you have to do to win hallowed celebrity status is to appear on a naff sofa in a TV studio at seven in the morning and talk about how you once baked the largest barn cake in Sniffersdale. Bang! There you are appearing on ‘I’m a Celebrity – Someone Please Notice Me’ (jungle edition), or ‘Mystery Celebrity Soprano’, where you prove your worth by debasing yourself in a gorilla costume and where the only mystery is why? Or even on more worthy attempts at making money from a sow’s ear, shows like ‘Strictly Pointless’ or ‘The Great British Jerk Off.’  Has the world not learnt that when you award celebrity status to the hopelessly narcissistic, they end up being elected to run important countries? And look where that’s got the world.

Anyway…

It’s a stormy May morning here on Symi, where the contents of the courtyard have now blown into the porch, and where there may or may not be boats sailing today. (The Poseidon was due to do its first day trip about now, but I am not sure of the current situation there.) Yes, the temperature has dropped a little (13° today), but it is set to rise again by Wednesday (19°), and onwards and upwards to over 20° by this time next week.

Having spent the weekend finishing painting up an old chest of drawers for the kitchen, and spring cleaning the bedroom, I locked myself in the sitting room on Sunday afternoon with a god old comedy thriller, The Old Dark House, 1963, Robert Morely, Joyce Grenfell and Fenella Fielding, and fell asleep halfway through. Perfect. Today, if this wintery weather persists, I might do something with Farley Granger – Ooh, Matron!
But now, I can put off chapter 21 no longer, and so, must return to work. All I can sensibly add to this Monday morning wash-out of my brain, is that if you are coming to Symi over the next few days, fabulous! Can’t wait to see you, but check that the boat you need will be able to sail.

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There was another cruise ship in yesterday, smaller this time, and, by the looks, more exclusive. I watched it sending its tenders back and forth throughout the day, except for when I was varnishing furniture and painting a chest of drawers in the courtyard and the upturned kitchen, where everything is out of said drawers and piled on the table. Deserving of a break in the afternoon, I called down to the bar to find it doing rather well with locals and visitors alike, and there, I witnessed the classic, happy tourist behaviour we’ve come to know and love. Not.

A couple sits down and asks for a menu. Menu provided. After a few minutes of deliberation, they ask for mineral water (€0.50), and are asked, with or without gas? What? Repeat: With or without gas. Sparkling? I want this one. Pointing to where it says Aνθρακούχο, ‘sparkling mineral water,’ in both languages, even his own. He repeats for clarity, because the servant is not English. This one, and off goes the host to return with two bottles of sparkling mineral water (€2.50 each). Puts them down, toddles away.

Mrs and Mrs Armitage-Shanks dive merrily into their chosen drinks, speaking not a word to each other as a small part of the afternoon passes by, and then, when ready, ask for the bill. Which they then dispute, because, allegedly, they asked for still water (€.50) and they don’t want to pay the €5.00 bill for what they not only asked for, but also drank – not queried or returned, but drank. Naturally, there is some debate, the upshot of which is that Mr Armitage-Shanks flatly refuses to pay the bill, using, I suspect, that British attitude of brick-wall outrage that he could possibly be in the wrong. He was, and I’d be happy to take the stand.

It does rather make one’s blood boil when you witness stubborn, and dare I say, ignorant privilege come up against gentle Greek hospitality, especially when we are talking of €4.00. Mr Armitage-Shanks isn’t having it, though. Oh no, he expounds. We fought them on the beaches when they came ashore, and I’m out there every night with my searchlights looking for small boats, so I’ve done my bit for the invasion effort, and Johnny Foreigner no longer matters because without the Eastbourne Conservative/Reform Club, we’d all be speaking humanity and reason nonsense, and it’s high time they brought back the lunchtime entertainment at Tyburn. (All in one breath of exasperation, note.)

Of course, gentle Greek hospitality and ξενοφιλία (the appreciation of foreign people) mean nothing to Armitage-Shanks and his ilk; the Duravits from Twyford, and Miss Pyramid from number twenty-six are worse. He’s off, dragging the little woman behind, and basking in the glory of having got away with paying €1.00 for €5.00 worth of drinks.

Needless to say, I hurled some choice Anglo Saxon down the Kali Strata after them, but sadly, that’s water of a duck’s arse to the smug, and my Þū unsǣlīġe ǣrs! went unheard. Probably too busy gloating and agreeing, ‘That showed them, eh? Telling me I was wrong. Water is water…’ I expect they went muttering with glee all the way back to the harbour, and round to the tender, and back across the sea to their cruise ship. Or, maybe, to their own boat, or even to catch their day-trip ferry back to another island. To be on Symi means you have either swum very hard or spent money on a flight and a boat ticket, and what with criminals now running the world and the price of oil what it is, and thus, the price of flights what they are, to fuss over €4.00 while on a holiday millions cannot afford nor will ever know… Well, it says to me that someone’s either very twisted or very upset that the little woman dragged him away from his Sunday Sport and meat pies to try some of that foreign muck. Water with bubbles in it? Not seen that since bathtime at Dotheboys Hall.

What an utter niþing. (Excuse my Anglo-Saxon.)
Because you are in no way a gloating greed like Mr Armitage-Shanks, I will leave you with this lovely photo Neil took recently.
And breathe.

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