I finally managed it. I changed the alarm from 5.30 to 6.00, as it’s slightly lighter then, and headed straight out for a walk up the road to Ag Triada and back down through the village. A short walk of about 40 minutes. I forgot my FitBit, so I am not sure how many steps that was or how long a distance, but not very far. From the Village Square to the cantina on the road above the village and back it’s three miles, so I expect what I walked was nearly two. As the days go on and the mornings get warmer I shall aim for more.
No trickery, this is how it came out
Talking of warmer… We were at the bar on Sunday for our Sunday afternoon tipple. I for one was wearing three layers, including a thermal vest. As other people arrived, we ended up with pashminas and scarves, jackets and mountaineering gear in the party. There was a cold breeze blowing even though it was a sunny day. The wind has dropped now, and it should feel a bit warmer. One thing’s for sure, it won’t be long now before people are greeting each other with the standard, ‘Hot, isn’t it?’
Symi sunrise
There was quite a gathering at the bars on Sunday. A funeral (or memorial) service had been held, and the men arrived for a drink afterwards; there was also a baptism elsewhere, proving how much ‘life goes on’, and others were gathering for the Sunday cinema club at Lefteris’ kafenion. From the looks of it, the event was well attended.
A bit of a traffic jam on the way home
Things are starting to busy up elsewhere too. The Nikolaos X came in on its first day trip of the season over the weekend, the Panagia Skiadeni is also making trips, the Blue Star came in on Sunday bringing back those who had traveled to Syros on a short break, and, as I write this, the catamaran has just come and gone. I can hear it from my desk as it rounds the headland, even though I can’t see it at that point, and I can more or less set my watch by it. Well, I would if I wore one.
Jack cat had the right idea
In my ‘news from the writing desk’ department, we have one more chapter of The Saddling to set out, and then the final check through to do before I can put that up for sale. So, hopefully only a few more weeks. It should only be two weeks, but we are both waiting to hear about the London Greek Film Festival. We being myself and my editor who also works for a film production company. If the film (and I mean the film) is selected, then he will have some arranging to do over there in the yUK, and that might delay the book’s editing slightly. I also have a script entered and am waiting to hear if that got anywhere (unlikely, the length was not within their guidelines, and I knew this but sent it off anyway). The festival is only three weeks away, and we are expecting to hear any day now. We were expecting to hear a while ago, but it is the Greek film festival, and we have had Easter. Maybe we’ll hear avrio. Anyway, back to that writing desk department and some work no a new comedy novel…
Let’s start the week off with a little story. I was heading down the steps to Yialos on Friday when I saw a lady crossing from one side to the other. Nothing surprising there. Said lady, however, was in her night clothes, with an anorak over the top, and carrying a basket of herbs. This was around eleven, so I assume she is a late riser. It’s not uncommon to see local people popping to the shop in their slippers during the winter, I mean, why bother getting glammed up when you’re only around the corner? No one is going to judge. I thought to myself, ‘Ah, she’s setting up her herbs as the day boat had just arrived.’ Indeed, she was. I approached and wished her a kali-morning. In return, she asked me to carry a couple of baskets across the steps for her while she made herself comfortable outside the old Symi Gallery. Or as comfortable as one can be in a nightdress on a blustery, rather cloudy morning in April.
Let’s all go down the steps, ‘ave-an-acado
I did my duty, wondering if this would make me an accessory before some kind of fact (I assume she has a street licence for her little enterprise), and went on my way.
‘Mister!’
I must admit to having a mild sinking feeling as I was hailed. I’ve seen what happens to the unwary who engage in conversation here, but I turned and replied, trying to hide the mistrust in my voice. It didn’t help that she was rummaging in a blue plastic bag. I didn’t need €5.00 worth of wild oregano. If I did, I could have picked some from the lane up the road. But no, she offered me a biscuit for my trouble. I accepted and, duly paid, set off, munching on my way. I assume she dressed at some time during the day otherwise those heading up the steps might have been treated (or not) to something rather surprising.
Hanging out in Yialos
If you’re still wondering about the title of today’s post, I had a song in my head as I carried on down the Kali Strata, ‘Let’s all go down the Strand,’ that wonderfully pointless number sung by Stanley Holloway, and others. Apparently, you don’t have to have a banana as you do so as that was never part of the original lyric. So, I often throw in another random foodstuff as I go. ‘Let’s all go down the Strand, have a moussaka!’ is probably the most appropriate. On this day it was an avocado, for no discernible reason, and so it became, ‘Let’s all go down the Strand, ‘ave-an-acado!’
You’re going not have that song stuck in your head all day now, aren’t you? Sorry about that. If you’re not, then click here and hear a recording of it. You can add your own fruit.
Other fruit is available
I only mention that as that was about the most unusual thing I did over the weekend. Oh, I did arrange a mock O-level exam for Neil, read and advise on a short story for a young man from India, and start on a new book, but otherwise, it was a quiet weekend with dinner at the taverna in the evening on Saturday. It is now Sunday as I prepare this post for tomorrow, write a short report on the short story for said young man in India, reply to a couple of emails and then ‘mark’ the mock exam. After that and some vague attempt at housework, it’s going to be back to the new book idea, a farce this time, a kind of ‘Remotely’ follow on, but not. It’s going to be another Miss P story and anyone who had read ‘Remotely‘ will know who I am talking about. Anyone who hasn’t read it yet (shame on you) can find a copy on Amazon, in print and in Kindle format.
They’re back!
And now I am off to attend to my other duties and will wish you a good week to come. I may even have a banana.
Following successful trial runs in a van from the small village of Hoxne in Suffolk during January 2016 the UK registered charity Next Stop Symi was formed. A further run in April 2016 was undertaken with Charlemagne the bear as a mascot.
Charlemagne hoping to get a lift back to Symi
During the first few weeks of this year, we obtained a list of items that would be useful for refugees stranded in Kos and Rhodes. Our helpers in the UK rallied around, and we were given plenty of stock to transport. These items were checked for suitability, making sure they were complete and clean. Everything was sorted and boxed up (and a few bags) ready for the run.
Loading the van took some time ensuring there was no wasted space and we could easily get at the boxes needed at each stop.
Helpers from Lichfield with some of their collections
The back of the full vanLeaving Hoxne
28 March – 444 miles
Left Hoxne at about 8.30am.Trouble free run down to the Channel Tunnel. Arrived a bit earlier than expected, so they let me on an earlier than planned train. The van was one of the last on, parked up behind a British registered Aston Martin on a French Trailer!
There were some heavy showers on the way to Luxembourg through the Ardennes, otherwise, a very uneventful drive arriving at the hotel at about 6pm.
Trauma Bears from North Wales
Full Van
29 March – 356 miles
A need for fuel meant upsetting the satnav while finding a petrol station in Luxembourg (diesel less than €1 per litre). Once full with fuel the drive was a pleasant combination of motorway and some other main roads to Karlsruhe. Around Karlsruhe, the traffic was at a standstill at times, just because of the amount of vehicles on the road.
Hotel Car Park in Germany
Once past Karlsruhe and then Stuttgart the roads were virtually empty. There was hardly any delay as I passed one accident site with the police present and the Autobahn down to one lane. Even with a couple of stops it only took 6 hours to make it to a small town near the German/Austrian border.
The evening was spent in the town enjoying a beer and a meal. The town was just like Symi after the end of the season as most places were closed because the skiing season had finished.
Coffee break on the Fern Pass
30 March – 296 miles
The first part of the day’s drive was across the Fern Pass in Austria. I had a quick coffee break at one of the rest areas. The peaks of the Alps were still covered in snow. As I climbed up the Brenner Pass, there were still people on some of the ski runs (one of which goes under the motorway). The drive through Italy to Modena was simple and stress-free.
That evening while having a beer a group of French people who were on a course asked me about the signs on the van, proving there’s genuine interest and support for what we’re doing. They invited me to join them at the restaurant where they served excellent Pizzas.
31 March – 168 miles
After a moderately early breakfast, I was quickly on the way to catch the ferry across the Adriatic Sea. I had to pick up the tickets at the ferry terminal before making my way to the Ferry (Superfast XII) that leaves at 1.30. Loading was relatively painless. The van being slightly over 2m high had to be parked alongside the big trucks, and was dwarfed.
The ferry crossing was very smooth and uneventful.
Dwarfed by the big trucks on the ferry
1 April – 108 Miles
The ferry docked a few minutes late. But after 24 hours on the ferry it was pleasant to be back on land. The new road from Patras to Corinth is not fully open yet with just a few places where there is still a lot of work to do. However much of the drive was on the new road and very much better than the old road it replaces.
2 April
This was a day of leisure because the ferry I had planned on catching from Ancona was full so I had to travel a day earlier. I spent the day in the village that has sprung up around the ruins of Ancient Corinth. The Archaeological site is beautiful and remarkably well preserved. The museum, although small is worth a visit.
3 April – 68 miles
The run to Piraeus was uneventful with the satnav guiding me to the right gate at the docks without any hiccups. The gates for the Dodecanese ferries are a long walk from the main area of Piraeus, but there is a free bus that goes around the port regularly.
I had to wait about two hours before managing to get on the ferry (Superfast XII again). I soon settled in. One of the stewards recognised me from the trip to Patras, and we had a bit of a laugh about this.
I had been allocated a berth in a shared cabin. Sleep was rather fitful, but somehow I managed to be up ready for arrival at Kos at 6.30am.
Unloading in Kos
4 April
After breakfast, I met up with representatives of Kos Kindness delivering about 65 boxes of clothing and other items that they needed. They also had some surplus items that they knew would be better used in Rhodes, so these were loaded on the van for delivery the next day. Five boxes out, one box in. Every inch put to good use.
In early April Kos Town was very quiet with very few of the usual tourist restaurants and bars open
5 April
The ferry I was booked on (Blue Star 2) was timetabled to arrive at 4.35, so I woke at about 4 am. After a quick check to make sure I had everything during a short walk to the van I was staggered to see the ferry was docking some 20 minutes earlier than expected. A quick dash through the deserted streets of Kos got me there in about 10 minutes. I had to wait for another 20 minutes before I was on the ferry!
After arriving at Rhodes at around 7.30, I had a little bit of time for shopping before arriving at the makeshift camp. Although the manager did not arrive until later we quickly unloaded the van of all the items (T-shirts, rolls of fabric, children’s and baby clothing, plastic crates for Storage and some small toys) for Rhodes.
When I caught up with the manager later, he was distributing everything. The staff and refugees were absolutely over the moon with everything as it was just what they needed.
Boarding the ferry (Patmos) for Symi was smooth, and I was so glad to get back home.
The next day I delivered some items to the Medical Centre on Symi who again were very grateful to the original donors in the UK. The last delivery followed with boxes of Educational materials to be distributed by Solidarity Symi.
So after nearly nine days on the road (and ferry), my journey was complete and my cargo of helpful and useful items delivered to the local organisations which would make sure they reached the people who needed them most. There was a great sense of job done.
So I checked my diary and started counting down the days to the Next Stop Symi delivery.
Some of the Trustees of NSS after loading the van
————————————————————————————————————————————–
Next Stop Symi would like to make special mention of the generous support given by the ferry companies- Anek, Superfast and Blue Star
Picture it: I’m sitting on the sofa reading a very entertaining book about Andrew Lloyd Webber (don’t ask) when all of a sudden I become aware that a heavy truck is passing by the house. ‘Must be a concert mixer lorry,’ I think. A little while later I realise that the road outside our house is too narrow for such a vehicle. ‘Must be Lefteris and his dumper truck.’ I consider this idea as it’s more entertaining the Lord Lloyd Webber, and then wonder why Lefteris has stopped his truck right outside our door and isn’t moving on. ‘Perhaps he is delivering something over the road,’ I think. After a few minutes, I come to realise that the sound is actually coming from within the house and I pop into the laundry room to see where the earth trembling noise is coming from.
Windy weather
I find Neil there, interrupted from his revision by the sound. We both look at the washing machine and then shout across to each other, ‘It’s the washing machine!’
‘What?’
‘I said…’
But we leave it alone as it’s not actually smoking or steaming or moving around the room, but it is being worryingly loud. I realise later that we have just witnessed its final final rinse and spin. Something’s gone for good, and €300.00 worth of machine is finally cycling itself off to washing machine heaven. Mind you, it was 13 years old, so you can’t complain. It had a good run, and it was a Greek make Pitsos, so bravo to them for building such a reliable home appliance.
Windy weather
This meant that we then had to buy another one and, with some advice from the lady who knows about such things, Jenine Olive Tree, I ordered one from the Greek equivalent of Dixons, online, for €250.00. That miffed her a bit as she only recently bought exactly the same model for a little bit more; ours was now in a sale and also comes with free delivery. When that will be is another matter and, in the meantime, there’s the old one to get rid of. An email to the Dimos will let me know how this should be done, we’re not going down the ‘dump it over a cliff’ route. Meanwhile, there’s still the washing to do.
Day trippers and visitors
Which is how I found myself at the laundry sink on a blowy Thursday morning. Luckily, mother had left some handy hand wash behind when she left last year, so I was able to use that. There’s something very therapeutic about manually washing t-shirts and under-things; it gives you time to think. Mind you, I did have ‘Welcome to the Machine’ going around in my head like a tumble dryer for half an hour as I washed and wrung, agitated clothes (by talking about Brexit), rinsed and wrung again, and hung out the essentials. The pile went down quite quickly until Neil came home from his aerobics and gym session and dumped his gym clothes on it. There’s still a lot to do, but plenty of time as we’re not expecting the new machine for a couple of weeks.
Day trippers and visitors
Meanwhile (again), the wind was up, and the sea was choppy, choppier than it looks in the quick snaps I took for today’s blog, so the washing has to dry inside. Poor old Jack is weathering the warm wind, though, and has taken up his usual place on his bench outside in the courtyard. He was sick overnight on Wednesday and had also cut his ear again, so he wasn’t in the best of moods. I’ve seen him drinking lots of water and eating only a little, so at least he’s doing that. We’re keeping an eye on him as we eagerly await the outcome of my first hand wash in 14 years. Will it be scented with the aroma of spring flowers from an Alpine valley? Or will it smell like it did when it went in the bowl? Oh, I can’t wait.
By the way, there’s a post coming up tomorrow, for the weekend, about the work of one of the charities that’s currently operating to help refugees and others on Symi, and other islands. Make sure you tune in to check it out.
Just a quick ramble as I’ve been distracted by a newspaper. No, nothing to do with the shenanigans of the UK ruling leader, though I did just overhear the interviewer on the BBC ask a Tory, ‘Why can’t you just be honest?’ And that made me cheer her on – the interviewer I mean. No, the newspaper is a birthday present from Neil, a copy of The Times from my day of birth back in 19-something. What amazed me about this was the amount of type and thus typesetting that must have been done for each day’s publication. There are some photos later on, but the front looks like the old fashioned papers you see in period dramas, all small print on the front which announcements of birth, deaths and marriages. (Didn’t see my birth there.)
Symi flowers
What also got me hooked was on page three and no, this is The Times 1963, so it’s not that kind of page three, but the headline of a story: ‘Woman attacked by grey squirrel.‘ If that was a headline now, I am pretty sure someone in the current Westminster administration would immediately ban grey squirrels on health and safety grounds. Meanwhile, other parties would call for them to be barred from entering the country, others would rise up to protect them (but not actually say so for fear of losing their seats in the House) while a certain party leader would say that he was going to make sure they got equal pay, decent housing, and were to be nationalised, as that’s what people want to hear today. Over the water, a certain American maniac with a personality disorder would grab hold of the animal, realise it wasn’t a defenceless woman, let it go and deny having ever touched it. Further south, someone would shoot a ballistic missile at the poor creature and go back to greasing his hair.
Symi planting
Honestly, I despair of politicians these days, more so than ever, so I am trying to train myself to have nothing to do with it all – apart from voting in this election that she promised was never going to happen (until it suited Ms Mayhem), via my postal vote, and local mayoral elections here on Symi, as I can, plus the European Parliament ones when they happen. Meanwhile, I’m going to go back to the kitchen, stir the vegetable curry I am making, and read on to page four of The Times before copying out its crossword, so I don’t have to write on the paper, and I can say that I have completed The Times crossword from the day of my birth.
Rural Symi
That’s it. I’ll let you get on now – hope you enjoyed the random photos today.
