I had all kinds of ideas for things to bleat about today, but then forgot them. One returned to me as I was browsing my Fakebook thing, and I made a connection between Yialos and Mount Everest.
I saw this video of the climbers on Everest queuing up to summit. It was horrendous, I mean it looked to be about half a mile long, all waiting in the Death Zone to tiptoe across the Hillary Step (if it’s not been worn away), then queue up again as they are dying from cerebral edema to stand amid a pile of prayer flags, before turning around and coming down past the lifeless bodies of their colleagues who didn’t make it.
I know, there’s only a certain window to summit because of the weather, but I thought the authorities were going to put restrictions in place. Clearly not, not judging from those videos and reports. They also reminded me of what I was saying about the Galapagos Islands and Machu Picchu and how they wanted to restrict tourism there but couldn’t afford to lose the tourist revenue despite the fact the tourists were ruining the very thing they were coming to tour. Seems the same is happening on Everest.
Which is a far cry from Symi, Greece and Yialos, except, on a smaller scale, it’s not. When I was in Yialos for lunch the other day I couldn’t get over the number of mopeds and cars (I sound like one of those tourists who think ‘their’ island is being spoiled), and the number of people. It’s the same thing: a small window of opportunity meets a large and expanding demand. Despite the crowdedness of the harbour, it all still worked, everyone seemed jolly, and it was bustling rather than teaming. Anyway, before much longer, the window will start to close, and we will have our peace and quiet back for the winter.
Another fun fact coming at you from left field is that I have tracked down the admin office for Dame Shirley Bassey (DSB). Why? Because she gets a mention in a section of my godfather’s biography, and I wanted to send her a copy in case she remembered him. This means I have to order a copy from Amazon, wait for it to arrive, write a letter, find some international money something order to put in, in case they want to write back, and post it off. That challenge should be met in about two weeks if I order the book today. It’s been doing well, I am pleased to say, and Uncle Bob’s getting what he wanted: his story known. If you’ve not read about it, click the image below.
This is the story of one gay man, born in 1919 in Tooting. There are, no doubt, many others, but maybe not many led such a diverse life. Bobby’s colourful life crossed paths with King George VI, Sir Winston Churchill, the Dalai Lama, Shirley Bassey, David Bowie, Quentin Crisp, Ruth Ellis, and numerous other crowned heads, politicians, entertainers and leaders of society.
