Thank you, yes, I had a very pleasant weekend. It ended a bit farcically last night, but we’ll get to that.
The chatter over the weekend was about the new ramps that can take wheelchair users and those who’d otherwise have trouble getting into the sea, into the sea. There’s one at Pedi and one at Yala (on the way to Nimborio). I believe this is a council initiative, and I assume they will be taken down at the end of the season. I only say that because, sometimes after a winter storm, there’s no sign of the road at Pedi, let alone anything that might have been on the beach. It’s a great idea; let’s hope they are well used.
The photos I have today, of course, have nothing to do with that, mainly because I am not a roving reporter. They are pictures of Kirtos Beach (locally known as Nos, or the town beach), and they are here as a calming measure.
You see, apart from the arrival of tea bag rescue parcels (thank you, Mike and thank you, Graham!), another 16 spam emails from idiots hoping I’m also an idiot and will sign up for spurious book-promoting services, writing three chapters (draft one), and going out for dinner with friends at Georgio’s last night, there was the bug incident.
We were back from the dinner, and had put on a film to talk through (for some reason, Evita), and around nine-fifteen, we were just off to bed, when something scuttled from the corner of my eye and vanished under the opposite sofa. ‘It’s a roach,’ I declared. ‘You go to bed, I’ll sort it out.’ We were only on the What’s New, Buenos Aires number when I returned with my trusty can of quick death, lifted the cover to spray beneath the sofa, and was met by a full-grown, grey and black Symi spider. Eek! I am proud to say, I didn’t leap onto a chair in my wrinkly tights and call, ‘Thomas! Thomas!’ in the manner of the maid from Tom and Jerry, though I did call the husband from where he was getting into bed, because I am not trained to handle such beasts, and he is. Neil is one of those superheroes who can pick them up and take them up the lane to be rehomed. Only, this one was an agile little (huge) so-and-so, and evasive. A grapple ensued, the thing stuck him either with a fang or one of those multi-purpose, Swiss Army flick knives they carry, so he (Neil) called for his own equipment: a tea towel. On rushing back to the scene, I discovered the infiltrator had managed to get itself behind my old trunk, so we had to move that out of the way. It’s an LV, made roughly around 1912 – 1920, and, luckily, the wheels still work, so it was a quick reveal, followed by a tussle with a tea towel, and Neil telling me to pen the door, which I couldn’t get to because he was on his hands and knees across the doorway, and Jimmy Nail is singing On this Night of a Thousand Stars (reprise) and it’s so bad it’s good, but the background music should have been more Keystone Cops, but what can you do? Finally, the thing was captured and safely wrapped in a tea towel, and Neil escorted it from the premises.
However, on his return, he discovered the towel was empty, but he hadn’t seen the thing fall to the ground outside. We’re standing there, looking at the floor, listening to Colonel Peron being seduced in five-four time, when Neil realises the spider is on his head, and enjoying a verse of I’d be Surprisingly Good for You. Well, clearly, the best-dressed man is not wearing Arachnia this season, and he calmly brushed it to the floor, ironically, to the exact spot I had first seen it, and… Another tussle, and another capture in another hall, and this time, the invading force was successfully and humanely removed from the theatre of conflict. I didn’t sleep well, and this morning, I still have this feeling I am being watched, and something is sitting on my head humming Don’t Cry for Me, Marj and Tina.
A few more shots of Kirtos beach to calm us down.
