Weekend events? Rather quiet for me. Well, apart from Friday morning when I was many things. A writer editing a draft MS, then, unexpectedly, a triage nurse, chef, personal shopper, assistant barman, and waiter, because Neil tripped on a pothole and took a purler. Nothing broken, just banged about, and now, a very blue-black ankle and foot, but again mobile and again able to work. And no, this was not a typical tourist tumble fuelled by too much entertainment and not enough attention to detail. It was while taking someone’s rubbish to the bins for them at ten in the morning, and on a familiar route too. Which just goes to prove that although you know what’s around the corner, you never know what’s around the corner. Anyway, all fine now, apart from the colour scheme and bruised ribs, but a message to all to be careful on the flat (as this was), and even more careful on the steps.

It’s not so much that the terrain is dangerous, though it is in places; it is more that the landing pad is made of unrelenting stone, and no matter which way you land, it’s not going to be a soft touchdown. Years ago, not long after moving here, we were chatting to someone who had been here for some years, and we were talking about the dangers of getting home at night through the upper village lanes where, then, the lighting was pretty dismal. Worse, if there was a power cut. This person insisted they had never had a problem moving around at night because they had their ‘Symi night-sight vision.’ In other words, they were used to it. A couple of days later? Same person now with added scrapes, twists and knocks. Luckily, nothing broken and only the myth of ‘Symi night sights’ shattered. So, beware.

In the past, we have known people arrive here for their holiday, only to be sent back to Rhodes the next day to be plastered thanks to being plastered. We’ve met people who have, on declaring themselves in their found paradise, celebrated too much, and then found themselves lost at the bottom of the mousandra steps wondering how they got there. Mind you, we’ve also known people who were so taken with the place, they announced with all certainty that they were going to return and live on Nimos so their children could live wild and drive four-by-fours over that islet for the rest of their lives. (There are no paths, and only one ruined house on Nimos.) Others have declared they are so happy here after two days, they no longer need to take their prescribed medication, and two days after that, having tried to set a campfire in their hotel room. One turned up at the Town Hall expecting to be able to marry the bin man they met that morning. And don’t get me started on the man who bought a horse, rented a farm, and ended up stealing some military laundry and, having abandoned the horse, left the island, only to be discovered in Kos with guns in the back of his car. Long before this, he had gained the title of ‘the twat in a hat.’ We get them all here, but we also get the innocents. Those who, through no fault of their own, take a fall as Neil did, and land on the unforgiving stone in an awkward position, and damage themselves. So, always be cautious. Always go slow, use a torch at night, and be careful. Oh, and better have insurance too, because you never know when a pothole will leap out at you, or a step that you were sure was there will not be there.

And with that Monday morning lesson done with, let’s move on into the week and see what befalls us next.