No news, no gossip, what’s going on? Actually, for those who know Colette, she is now, finally, back in the UK and is having her operation today following a fall which occurred about two weeks ago. I know she reads this, so here’s us sending our best wishes and hopes for a speedy recovery now the trauma of many days in Rhodes hospital is finally over.

Back here, the days are calm, the weather warm, we’ve had groups of visitors coming through the village, some on bicycles, and I have gone to the extreme of making an appointment by telephone, an event from which it took me an hour to recover. The point being, I shall be in Rhodes on Monday, so unless I feel creative on Sunday and write in advance, I shan’t be back here until Tuesday. What I must do before I pop off for a long weekend, though, is remind you that the Symi Dream calendar is available to buy – only from the following link. Neil’s put together 12 images from all over the island, so each month will bring you a new surprise of a perhaps familiar scene.

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That subject again? The one about helpless and hapless visitors wandering the lanes with their noses buried in a mobile phone, certain they are on the right road to somewhere that doesn’t have a street name, let alone an address. Yeah, but not quite. I was reminded of this yesterday when we saw a group of young people, clearly recently arrived by unchartered boat, lost and heading up from the Kali Strata towards the upper village. One of them asked, ‘Police?’ and we directed them downhill. Mobile phones upside down, I assume.

That was an overture to me saying I didn’t need to use the utterly useless (on this island) Google Maps for a walk I took yesterday, one which reminded me of a song from Sunset Boulevard (the music, obviously, not the film which may not have had many songs in it). Actually, a line from a song, and the line was, ‘The early morning madness.’ It came to me as I passed the junior school at 8.00, just as everyone was dropping off their children, meeting other parents, or passing by on their way to drop the younger ones off at the nipo or pronipio (preschool) up towards the Kastro.

However, I was soon out on the road where things were quieter, save for the bus which came up to Lavinia. It will do this if you ask the driver nicely. This is handy if you are staying up at Sevasti which is a fair old hike if you’re not stable on your pins.

Anyway, that was yesterday morning, and this is today morning where the sea out there is calm, there’s no wind, it looks to be a humid but warm day, and where a blank page is staring me in the face waiting to have words imprinted on it.

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My spam collection was a disappointment this morning. I use a thing called Mailwasher so I can see the emails on the servers before I download them. That means I can weed out anything I don’t like the look of and keep my computer a little more protected. But from what? This morning, it was from total strangers and stranger robots offering me various challenges with attention grabbing headlines (not) such as, DIY made easy! If I have anything DIY orientated, I use the GIAP method. In full, Get In A Professional, or at least someone who knows what they are doing. I was also offered, ‘Buffet woodworking plans.’ What do you suppose they might be?  A trestle table of planes and saws? Woodchip vol au vents? How about a joint of mortice and tenon? (Get it?) I don’t know. Here’s a photo of our chilli corner.

Also in my spam collection today, a notice from FedEx Shipping that the package I am not expecting is waiting for my next attention which it’s not going to get and can be found by opening an email which reads: 8=0=0=8=9=00=0 or something similar. This comes hot on the heels of various SEO and web service cold calls, and my all-time favourite Moses bs valves. Apparently, they are the only valves I will ever need, despite the unfortunate including of the ‘BS’ (because we all know what that stands for). I got one of these every day, always at the bottom of the list just before the spam that comes in in the Greek and then Chinese alphabets. I now read Moses bs valves as ‘Moses saves’, and now and then, just for fun, I bounce the spam back. It makes me feel better, but it clearly does no good.

And now, some more of the plant collection.

The bougainvillaea has taken off since the temperature dropped, others are coming to the end of the summer cycle, the chillies are thriving, and the vine is starting to drop back, as it does. It will soon be time to prepare for the wetter weather by cutting the vine right back and painting the flat roof to prevent leaks. That’s assuming we get some rain. These days, who knows?

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Actually, the line is ‘Somewhat over indulgent’ and if you sing it to the strains of ‘Somewhere over the rainbow…’ you have Forbidden Broadway’s interpretation of Mandy Patinkin, but that’s another story… Anyway…

I was indulging in a scrape through my past pics and came across a coincidence which allows me an opportunity to further plug a couple of books. It just so happens that on this day in my history last year, I displayed a drawing of the main character from the first book in my Delamere Files Victorian mystery series which is the third series set in my Clearwater world, and here’s that drawing…

I’m currently writing book six in this series which means I must have put out five full-length mysteries in a year, oh, and 1892, a shorter collection of five shorts set in the same world. Gosh.

Then, a little further down I came across this photograph of me with my godfather…

Which is on the back of ‘Bobby, a Life Worth Living,’ his biography which I released a couple of months ago. Oh, so that makes five full-length mysteries, one collection of shorts, and a biography in the last 12 months. No wonder my arm hurts. I started the Bobby book 20 years ago, though, and it was mostly written when I returned to it earlier this year, so it didn’t take long to finish the research and set it free.

On the Symi side of things, I also found this photo of a rather empty harbour in 2020, and we can all guess why, and with it, from, I think, nine years ago this photo of my nephew who was visiting…

Three years ago, the boys were working the bar as they still are…

For how much longer, his season, remains to be seen. Things are very much quieter now than a couple of weeks ago, and it feels much quieter than this time last year. The weather doesn’t know it’s supposed to be autumn, however, and the temperature remains around 27° to 30° on the days without a north wind. (I’ve only recently learnt how to do the ° symbol without having to search the Insert/Symbol menu. Hold down the atl key and type 0176 at the same time (in Word) and you’ll get a °. Fabul°us!)

Moving on, it’s time to get to work. While writing chapter whatever it is, I also have to go shopping and do something startling with half a pound of minced beef, and I did say I’d try getting the hoover out to see if I can manage that, but then again, it could be a difficult chapter to write, so we’ll have to see.

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Sunday morning in our house. Me beavering away on publicising books before settling down to write another author interview and hopeful then move on to actually writing half a chapter while being careful of my bad arm. Neil and Ms Tina Turner in the sitting room. Her growling her way through a couple of hits from the ’80s, him doing his grandpa yoga or whatever cabalistic activity he does in there when no-one’s looking. A lady up the road, glimpsed through the kitchen window as I make another cup of tea, feeding the cats, shooing away the chickens then leaving. The chickens flocking back as if to roost, and a party of fur and feathers devouring whatever she left for them. The sky a little grey and cloudy. The harbour calm and quiet, for now, and containing the ‘pencil boat’ that’s been there for well over a week now; long, narrow and apparently rather swank close up, I’ve not seen in move for days and wonder at its story.

The boat was thus named when we first saw it and has been the topic of discussion after at least three piano lessons now as me and the H bomb stand on the balcony and discuss boats, the meaning of life, the future, and anything random that springs to the alert mind of a 17-year-old on the cusp of becoming a grown up. We had dinner with the two of them last night, a #BoysNight and hopefully the first of many to come this winter depending on what the S man does for work. (If anyone has a live-in chef job they know of, pass it along.)

Last night (Saturday as I write) we went to the Taj Mahal, each of us had a different main dish so we could share a taste, we added a couple of sides, and of course, it was wonderful, as was the company and conversation. People often say, ‘You’re so lucky to live here,’ but we’re not. We made it happen through planning, design and action, not luck. Where we are lucky, me in particular, is to have had the opportunity to watch these two young men grow up, and to be a part of that growing up. I’m not sure if it’s lucky to have them vomit on you when babies, or break your heirlooms when toddlers, but it’s all part of the experience. As is going to parents’ day in absentia, collecting school reports, taking them to medical appointments, helping them move into their first home, having that discussion when they’re at that age, teaching them how to shave, play the piano, and all the time to be an ear, a sounding board, a wallet. The other evening when out for dinner with the S man, he said about someone, ‘I told them to watch out because my uncle writes books.’ Uncle? I’ve never been prouder.

But enough of boys and boats, sentiment and Tina Turner. It’s time to turn my Sunday morning attention to that interview and then hopefully, to half a chapter before my arm gives up the ghost. I’m sure I will be back to the more usual dull blogging tomorrow.

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