It’s changeover time. That was my last thought last night and my first thought this morning, and I was thinking about the temperature. We closed our front window last night for the first time in a few months, because the air is considerably cooler now than it was a few days ago, and the forecast ahead shows a few sunny days, and then some windier and colder ones. The sheets are back on the bed, and soon there will be a duvet, and later, blankets too. I’m already back to wearing socks and shoes, rather than sandals, and I’ve rummaged in my winter clothing store (a suitcase) for hoodies, jumpers and long trousers. We’ve started preparing other things needed for the winter to come, like the curtains that we hang over the front door and balcony windows, the spare towels for when it rains and the porch gets wet, and we’ve started discussing filler and concrete paint for the flat roofs. However, out and about, visitors are still investigating the village wearing T-shirts and shorts, visiting beaches, and enjoying the weakening sun.
The start of the change from summer to winter, via something resembling autumn, reminded me of another thing that’s changed over the years: changeover day. It used to be that we’d know what day of the week it was by the activity in the village. When you saw a mule coming up the steps with luggage on either side, when people who had been regulars were suddenly not there, and when you saw suitcases waiting unattended by the Windmill or the clock tower, you knew it was changeover day, and thus, you knew it was a Wednesday. These were in the days of holiday companies like Manos and Laskarina, Olympic and Kosmar, when there were reps on the island to meet and show in guests. You’d hear suitcases trundling by in the early hours, and know people were leaving and would soon be replaced by others trundling the other way. Now, holiday company reps are rare, if not existent on the island, and people come and go on all days of the week. I’m surprised anyone knows what day it is.
Some things remain the same. You might still see luggage waiting unattended, and know it will be quite safe until collected, but you no longer see uniformed reps herding their guests towards a boat and taking them over to Rhodes to say goodbye and collect another clutch. Independent travel is more ‘the thing’, making holiday dates more flexible, and it’s common to hear people are staying for ten or twelve days, rather than the standard seven or fourteen. There are no welcome meetings, and no reps running around trying to find guests and get them off the island a day early because the weather is set to storming, and boats are in danger of being cancelled. Visitors have to book their own excursions via the travel agents, rather than through a rep working for very little money, plus whatever commission they can muster.
It’s taken a while for this change to become the norm, but that’s where we are with the British companies, at least. I don’t know about the holiday companies of other countries. The change from summer to winter hasn’t changed much, though. That’s still the same, and every year is slightly different in timing, though the same in the result. To my mind, it’s not been a particularly hot summer, with nothing over 40°, which might indicate a colder winter to come (but who knows these days?), but preparations for it remain the same. Time to find and dust off the heaters, put away the fans, and give the wardrobe its own changeover. Summer clothes will soon be in the storage suitcase under the bed, and… Where did I put those blankets? ‘Seen the duvet?’ Answer, ‘I think it’s in a bag in the mousandra,’ and so on into the shorter days and colder nights.
What’s not changed, though, are the views, although the sunrises and sunsets can be a little more dramatic at this time of year.
