A morning of cold, damp air awaits anyone else who is getting up right now. Judging by the ghostly wake left by a departing ship, the Blue Star has been and gone, and that explains the rush of mopeds that passed the house about five minutes before departure. Funny that, ain’t it? He asks, his mind already turning to characters in 1894, currently waiting for him to release them from where he left them suspended in the imagination. I mean, it’s funny how different people deal with vehicular departures.

There are those who, when flying, like to be at the airport at least two days before check-in just in case there is a problem (Neil), and those who roll up at boarding time, walk calmly through and on, and wonder what the fuss was about. There are those who, when taking a train, arrive at a station, identify the platform, check the time, locate the café, have a picnic, hold a conversation with everyone in the café, unpack three bags, repack three bags, buy onboard supplies, including another picnic, and then calculate exactly where to stand on the platform to be in the right place when the doors open, and there, wait for the next 40 minutes (Jenine). Then, there are those who arrive at the railway station, stop, look at a board, scan the area, walk to the platform, and two minutes later, board the train. (Harry.)

As for boats, well, living on an island, it’s vital to know when and where, and to be there so as not to miss. Yet there are some, like me, who know the boat won’t leave until the time on the ticket, so work back 30 minutes from departure and allow 20 minutes to walk down, therefore arriving with 10 to spare. Others play a game where you wait at home until the boat pulls in, and then you race down the road on your moped and drive straight on. I dare say there are yet more who think, ‘It won’t go without me’, only to find themselves stranded, but there you are.

A good ol’ morning observation of no consequence, and now, it’s onto my other blog, and then onto releasing the characters from wherever I have left them – it will have something to do with hansom cabs, steam trains and/or horses. Here’s another random gallery of Neil’s Symi photos.

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It’s a morning for the self-warming, USB-plug-in fingerless gloves that can become mittens. It’s a cold one this morning, with a slight breeze and a cold blue sky. No doubt it will be warm in the sun later, but for now, I’m straight from my bed to my desk, by way of the tea urn, and on with the gloves. They should start to warm my hands soon, and thus, my fingers. In the meantime, the wires and connections are clunking around beneath my wrists, and I’m typing more clumsily than usual with my random striking of keys, but otherwise, the page still looks like a red-underline mess.

I saw a sailing boat yesterday. I saw it while I was standing at my bower-eaves with a cup of tea, watching the long fields of barley and rye on either side of the river, and hoping to glimpse my own Lancelot skimming down to Camelot (read your Tennyson), and all the while, thinking it was a good day for sailing.

Maybe not so much of a good day for exploring shops and such like, as it was Clean Monday and much was closed during the day. (Apart from our water. Thank you, George!) Still, I hope they enjoyed the dry day, as we did. Today, it’s back to what constitutes normal around here, except today, I am doing it in a pair of clunky gloves that are wired into my laptop. I have a problem now, because I want to go and make another cup of tea, but I’ll have to keep the PC with me, and carry it around the house like a drip on a stand. Or I could unplug and dive straight back into chapter sixteen of the current story. I am sure my bold Sir Lancelot with his blazon’d baldrick slung will soon appear singing ‘Tirra lirra, tirra lirra’ and bearing a cup of tea. Then, the curse will be lifted from me, and the mirror will remain intact. (Sup.)

Which reminds me, my current work in progress uses superstitions as its background. The thing starts at a dinner of the Thirteen Club on 13th Jan 1894 in London, where they used to debunk superstitions by, for example, smashing mirrors and spilling salt. If you have any unusual superstitions, let me know, and I might be able to squeeze one or two into the story.

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The ball being carnival, which took place in Yialos yesterday. The air up in the village was thumping with the beat, and the music went on throughout the afternoon and into the evening. (If I hear ‘Vida Loca’ one more time, I swear I’ll spit. It’s like Summer when all we are serenaded by at night is ‘Happy Birthday to you…’) Looks like a great time was had by all. I’ve not seen any photos yet, but if I’ve got the technology right, here’s a quick video from Symi TV’s YouTube channel.

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Following carnival comes Lent, and the supermarket now has shelves packed with tahini, halva and frozen squid. Today’s Clean Monday, so ‘everything’ is shut and ‘everyone’ is at the beach flying kites and eating only dead things from the sea (and salads) as the 40 days of fasting begin. It may well be Unclean Monday for us if the water tank doesn’t fill up, and as it’s a bank holiday, George may rightly not be at work this morning, and our mains taps won’t get turned on. (No, we can’t. They are locked up, and it would be against the law, but thanks for asking.) We may get away with it, we don’t know yet, we are on a knife-edge. Well, I’m getting on with things as normal, and Neil is still in bed, but otherwise, I am sure we’re both highly concerned that 500 litres for three men over 3.5 days, possibly four, is not going to be enough.

Whatever. We’re used to it.

As for me, I am currently starting the week with a find. I found a folder of images Neil’s taken over the past couple of years, and although they’re not that up to date, there are some great shots coming to these pages over the next few days. Here’s a sample. I’m off…

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Can’t stay long. There’s due to be a planned power cut in an hour or so, and we could be without electricity from eight this morning to four this afternoon. Some place should be back on by 11.00, so we might be in luck. I never know exactly what area we come under, as we’re on the cusp, but Lemonitisa is on the list, and that’s our nearest church, so I guess we’ll be off shortly. It’s a clear, cold day by recent standards, so that’s going to be fun, but there are plenty of odd jobs to get done that will keep us warm. Not that I’ll be able to have a shower afterwards, as there won’t be any water until the power’s back on, and even then, our little tank has got to last us and downstairs right through until Tuesday because Monday is a Bank Holiday. So, I must rush and fill buckets, find blankets, check the camping gas, and make sure my phone is charged. Meanwhile, here are a few random landscapes I dragged from an ancient folder. Have a good weekend.

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Not much to report today. As far as I am aware, the harbour is still suffering from the high tide/waterline, caused by atmospheric pressure caused by climate change and a new moon or some such. The taxis sometimes have to park further out, so if you’re looking for one, and they’re not at the paddling pool as usual, they might be further along towards the bus stop. The carnival is due to happen on Sunday, so let’s hope nature has moved on by then, or things might become a little soggy.

This week, apart from wrestling with unhelpful, self-governing computer programs and the like, we also celebrated Jenine’s birthday. Neil did the cooking, we had lunch, and Sam came after work to have his. During that time, we all had a video call with the other godson over in Rhodes. This happened not long after we had started watching a film, which we put on pause. I like the way Shelley Winters and Red Buttons are fascinated by a man eating a beef curry with Bombay potatoes and matar paneer.

Anyone guess the film?

The matar paneer, by the way, called for paneer (a type of cheese), but we didn’t have any because we’re lucky if we can find a Laughing Cow in the shops in winter, so we used haloumi instead, and it was spot on. Neil has the recipe, and can be bought quite cheaply. (Neil, I mean. The recipe will cost you a fortune. Or you can look it up online.)

Since then, we’ve been under another rain and windstorm. It’s blown half a lintel off the house opposite, but we’re still intact as far as I know. Ironically, we’re still avoiding using water at the weekends to save what little we have in the tank, and this coming weekend, being Clean Monday, we may have to ration it very carefully, as we may not have a refill from Friday morning through to Tuesday. We have buckets of rainwater at the ready, so we’ll manage. I hope.

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