Woke up feeling cold this morning and had to put a shirt on for the first time in ages. It’s 24° outside (at 6.45) and there’s a breeze, which makes it feel cooler, and the humidity is at 60%, so now you know. There’s not a lot of harbour action going on yet, and it’s not a day for an early morning Blue Star. From up here, having my cup of tea and watching the harbour later in the morning, I often see large groups of people catching the Dodecanisos at 8.50 to head off up the island chain to Kos or Kalymnos, or wherever. Meanwhile, over to the right, the barge and crane were playing a game. One dredged beneath the sea, pulled up a load, and dumped it further along so the onshore digger could use its bucket to collect the same stuff and drop it back where it came from. At least, that’s what it looked like. I’m sure there’s a reason for it.

It’s later in the day when things start to really heat up down there. It starts with the arrival of the first day boat, or ferry, depending on which comes first, and it builds from there until we’re counting four or five large day trip boats on the far side of the harbour to add to however many have come into the side we can’t see. Then, having another cup of tea later in the morning (I drink a lot of tea), I can watch large groups of people being led around, gathered up, walked on, while the toy train tries to get through one way, and a tour bus tries to get through the other, and the group still sands in the middle of the road saying, ‘Oh, ain’t it pretty?’

There was some unusual action yesterday. First, I noticed the ambulance with its light on heading for the early Blue Star, and later in the day, heard its siren not long before the SAR helicopter came into the landing pad, and a patient was taken from ambulance to airlift. I hope whoever needed the services yesterday is now doing well. People often ask about the medical services on the island, and it can be a sore point (no pun intended) depending on your experience and what you need, but most of the time, you can’t fault them – considering what they have to work with. I’ll go into more detail one day. Today is for watching the harbour.

We’ll be down there again tomorrow, and this time I have a package to collect from the post office before we go to lunch. After, I might feel inclined to walk back up like I did last Monday. (‘Inclined’ means there were no taxis, but there was a queue, and I’d missed the bus.) Either way, it will get me away from the typowriter for a while. On which note, I will get to it now, as I am on chapter 20 of the next great masterwor,k and I’m having a thoroughly good time being a villain.

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It’s always good to see people writing on social media things like, ‘We’ve booked to come to Symi next year, what restaurants do you recommend?’ But I do wonder about the value of asking such questions. I know, potential visitors are excited and want to have something to look forward to, and want to do their research to make sure they have an enjoyable stay, especially if they are only coming for a few days, but… Ask anyone who has been to Symi what is the best restaurant and you will get as many answers as there are tavernas. ‘Which would you recommend, though?’ ‘All of them.’ Not helpful, maybe, but honest.

Some people might have had a dodgy experience at this one or that one, but it will be a rare event. Others might prefer this over that because it’s closer to there, or further away from there, or that one’s good, and it’s by the sea, but this one has a view from higher up, so you see more, and that one’s really nice, yes, but it’s a long walk back…

Another question seen and heard: Where can I get a taxi down to Yialos? Yialos. Can you ring me one? No. Why? A) I don’t have the numbers, B) They are usually reluctant to drive up to collect from the village unless prearranged. C) It’s four in the afternoon, you’ll be lucky. D) Take the bus.

The truth is, you can’t roll out of a village taverna in the afternoon or evening and expect to find a taxi rank, nor even a taxi, nor, after a certain time of night, a bus. Pre-arrange or walk is the answer there. Or stay in the village. Even better.

You also see what is to me now, after 23 years, odd bar behaviour. (It’s not odd, it’s just not how it’s done here.) For example, a couple take a table, she takes a seat, and he takes himself off inside to go to the bar to order. Orders and pays. Later, when done, one of them brings their glasses back to the bar, passing the barman who sits outside. If/when I am in the yUK, say in London, as I was briefly in February, it’s easy to forget that you have to act out this ritual before you get a drink in some places. It’s also easy to order at a bar and then head off to your seat without paying because that’s what we do here. Drink now, pay later. It’s called trust. Mind you, in some places you can’t get a drink without an app on a phone you may not own, and you’re lucky if you get any human interaction.

Anyway, we’ll be off to one of our many favourite restaurants on Friday for lunch with the godson, and we’ll probably end up missing the bus and not finding a taxi, as I did on Monday and as we did last time we all went to lunch, but that’s okay. We’ll walk up via our favourite route. Steps.

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Hm. That’s my opinion of the new camera so far. I knew it was cheap, but the specs sounded decent enough, and it’s fine for general shots, not that I have taken many so far. Zooming in isn’t so successful, but I’ve not wrestled with all the settings yet. I will leave that for the master to look at because he understands the macro thing. Here’s a shot using the zoom.

That’s the barge/crane that’s been working away on the Petalo road to the petrol station and Blue Star dock (still don’t know its official name). I believe the waterside is being expanded there for some reason.

I went to collect the delivery (camera) yesterday around half nine, once I had written 3,000 words of some sort – I will reorder them into better positions today – and it was a 50/50 visit. Sometimes, when you have things to achieve down in Yialos, you get them done with no queues, no waiting, all successful, and there’s transport waiting to take you back up the hill. Other days, it all goes to hell in a handbag and takes twice as long. Yesterday was half and half. The walk down was pleasant, and there was no need to rush. The post office had ‘Back in 5 minutes’ written on it, so I went to ACS and only had to wait five minutes behind a confused customer. (Mobile technology hadn’t reached their part of the world, it seemed.) Back to the post office, open, in, nothing to collect, out, and onto the tech shop for a card for the camera. Easy, done, sorted, and onto the greengrocer, because one of my side quests was to find mushrooms and mayonnaise. No mushrooms, but I bought some onions and potatoes. All done, off to find transport.

None, so a slow walk up, stopping now and then to chat to people, which lessens the blow of the steps when you haven’t done them for a while. Around to the supermarket, found mushrooms and mayonnaise, and back home to drip dry.

Where, later in the day, I was able to experiment with the new camera, and caught these overhead…

Don’t worry, they were gone by evening and haven’t come back. Yet.

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You know how you sometimes become fascinated by something? At least, I do, now and then. Well, my mind was recently set to wondering about a boat. This white one you can see in this photo…

I noticed it there one day and thought nothing of it, because we get them like this quite a lot in the summer. However, when it was still there a few days later, I began to wonder why. Normally, you’d expect something like this to be here a day or so and then speed off to another place, but not this one. It was still there after a week, and I was wondering, perhaps the very rich person who owns it also has a holiday home here and has used their yacht to ‘drive’ to the house in the country. Maybe.

It was still there about ten days after I first saw it, and which point I thought it was very strange, but as long as the over-wealthy people on it came ashore now and then and spent a few Euros in the village, that was alright. Of course, I don’t know if they did, but I do know they stayed in the same place a long time. Maybe there was an engine problem? Then I thought, if you could afford a boat like that, you’d be able to get it repaired double time.

In the end, I looked it up and found out it was called Boadicea, and it was a charter yacht. Very spacious, with room for up to 18 guests in nine cabins and with a crew of 22 staff. Art Deco style interior, cinema, spa, swimming pool, in fact, everything you need to completely enjoy the authentic Greek lifestyle and Aegean Sea. Best of all, it only costs you from €750,000 a week plus expenses. According to its charter website, in the ‘Low Season’ (May to September), it cruises the Med calling at Croatia, Malta, Monaca and Montenegro. Perhaps it was here for nearly two weeks without moving because they were lost and had paused to work out where they were. Perhaps they just loved looking at Symi from a distance. Whatever. Today, after some typing, I intend to head downtown where I have a new, cheap pocket camera waiting for collection. Maybe it will take some more interesting photos than the ones I take. We shall see.

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Imagine this: You’re at home in your kitchen, pottering around and minding your own, when you hear your patio furniture being moved. You know you’re alone, and there’s no-one outside, and yet… Another scrape. Now, I should mention that in this case, the ‘patio’ is actually a flat roof, and you’ve got a table, two chairs and a sunshade up there. On your roof. So, who is it? You pop outside and head up to your flat roof, and lo! There is a guest from the hotel behind you lounging on your furniture. This person has left their balcony, climbed over a very obvious iron fence and down a few feet to help themselves to your possessions, on your property.

That happened to a friend of ours up here in the village, and when challenged, the trespasser became threatening to the resident.

Now imagine this: You’re at home in your kitchen, pottering around and minding your own, when you hear someone up on your terrace, and you know you are alone, so you go to investigate and find a tourist climbing back over your locked gate, having helped themselves to your terrace so they could take a photo. ‘Can I help you?’ you ask, meaning, ‘What the hell do you think you’re playing at?’ and the trespasser simply says, ‘No, thank you,’ and goes on their way, leaving you more than a little fuming.

That happened to a friend of ours up here in the village.

Now imagine this: You’re at home in your kitchen, pottering around and minding your own, when you hear someone enter your courtyard via the closed gate, and go to investigate, only to find them taking photographs of your property and its view, and when you challenge them and ask them ‘What the hell do you think you’re playing at?’ by saying, politely, ‘Why are you on my property?’ they reply with, ‘Because it is so beautiful.’

Another true story of a trespass, and there are many others, I am sure.

To wear nothing but a bikini while walking through the village, Mr Worthington, may be regarded as a misfortune; to commit trespass sounds like an illegality. The residents would be quite within their rights to report, sue, take to court and so on, and I’ve never heard of ‘Because it is so beautiful’ being successfully used as a defence in a court of law.

Yes, the views are beautiful, but there are plenty of public places to take photos from.

I could rant for a while about this one, as I’ve seen it happen all over the village, sometimes out of nosiness, as in, ‘What’s behind this open and derelict door?’ and other times out of a sense of entitlement. ‘I’m allowed, I paid to come here,’ or something equally as ridiculous.

Keep your snouting on public land, I say, or at least ask before you help yourself to someone else’s home, otherwise, you shall, in my book, be no better than a fice! *

*My reference here is ‘The Vulgar Tongue’, a dictionary of pre-1811 street cant and slang.

FICE, or FOYSE. A small windy escape backwards, more obvious to the nose than ears; frequently by old ladies charged on their lap−dogs. See FIZZLE.

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