We had something of a triumphant end to last week. On Thursday, halfway through Harry’s piano lesson, there came a knock at the door followed by a chap bearing four copies of the new contract for the house. We arranged, with some helpful translation by my student, to meet at the KEP office the next morning at ten because this chap had been instructed to return two completed copies to our new landlord. Sorted. So, the next day, we trotted down to the KEP office, signed the contract, and waited while the extremely helpful and patient lady added our passport details and my biometric card details to each copy. Meanwhile, the chap from the day before was doing his signing along with three other tenants of the same house. That’s a lot of passport detail copying (by hand) to be done. Anyway… We then went off to the accountant to give him his copy… Break for a photo:

Stelios told me I needed to ask the landlord to send the contract up to Taxistet (the online tax portal), and I explained that when George the landlord and I talk, it’s via written message which I can translate because I’m terrible on the phone in Greek, and terrible on the phone in general, so Stelios rang him. The business side of the discussion was completed within two minutes, and all was well. There then followed about 20 minutes of general chat and catching up. George, it seems, used to be a teacher here, knew Stelios from when he was young (I think that’s what was going on), told him the story of how the houses became left to him in Andreas’ will… And so on. The upshot was, eventually, that our new landlord is a very nice chap who doesn’t know where the houses are, but, we think, isn’t interested in selling; at least, not just yet. So, we have a year’s contract and next summer, before it runs out, Stelios will check in to see what the future holds for the house and for us. Who can tell…? Another break for a photo:

By way of celebration, we went for a coffee and a walk and ended up having lunch at the Trawler because Neil fancied the psaronefri and I had a spag bol because I’m going ‘carb free’ (not). Meanwhile, Neil received news that his British passport had been processed and was on its way back. This is another rambling story, but in brief: his yUK passport expired so he sent it off for renewal, but also had to send a copy of every single page from his Irish passport (or the document itself). When that arrived with the UK office, they decided not to process the renewal until both passports matched. In the UK one he has all three forenames, but in the Irish one, only two. Therefore, he then had to apply for his Irish one to be renewed three years early and have his third name added… We put in a covering letter, and it all went smoothly, arriving back here about three weeks after being sent by courier at an exorbitant price. Then, once the new one (with all three names) came back, he had to send copies of every page even if blank, off to the UK offices, who had given him an application extension, and then wait, and then receive innumerable communications asking him to send his documents, and then chatted on their helpful chat box helpline, and then… Finally, it was done and on its way back.

There, I told you it was a ramble. To close, another photo:

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Yesterday morning around eight, I thought I’d go for a walk. I’d done the blog, reread and edited what I had written the day before, and wanted to take a short time out to think of what came next in the story. I left the house, wandered through the village and out onto the road where I began the slow climb up the hill. I was past the sports hall and heading up to the first big turn in the road when I saw two young men on the other side of the road. Clearly recently arrived by some kind of dangerous route, they were more or less scratching their heads and were definitely looking lost and worried. Not being one to pass by on the other side, I crossed over and asked if they were alright. Through the use of sign language and a few English words, they were able to communicate, and me to understand, that they were looking for the police station, which came as no surprise to me.

Is there a police station here? Yes, but it is down in the harbour. Is this a big place? No, it’s a small island… I don’t know what they’d been promised or told but they were surprised at that. Where the police? I showed them a photo of the harbour, clock tower and police station so they knew what they were heading for, and then wondered how to give directions.

I showed them a road map of the island, but realised, the main road was the only discernible route clearly marked, and if I set them upon that route they would probably end up in Pedi. More sign language, it’s up and it’s down, it’s through and a round…

Come, I’ll show you. it was the only way, so me and these two early-twenty-something young chaps set off back towards Horio on the main road. Along the way, I managed to discover they were from Egypt (at least, that’s what they told me), and they were very worried because their phone had died, and they wanted to recharge it so they could let loved ones know they were safe. Will the police let them recharge? I expect so. I also expect they, and a group of others who arrived yesterday, will be on the boat to Kos this morning.

Just to be sure they didn’t get lost, I took them to ‘Kali Strata corner,’ the viewing point a little way down the steps where the bar used to be, pointed out the police station, and reassured them that the steps were the only way down. Off they went to whatever future awaits them.

What awaits me today and beyond, is a meeting at the KEP office to sign our new contract for the house, and a weekend which is set to include a Sunday roast with the family on, unsurprisingly, Sunday. We might be going on a walk before that, ending up at the dining table just in time, but we’ll see.

And after that, here are a couple of classic Symi views to see you off into your weekend and whatever awaits.

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A week or so ago, I went on an exploration walk with Harry. He’d told me of some ruins above the Pontikokastro, the ‘Mouse Castle’ up at the windmills, and I told him of a grey pipe I’d seen sticking out of some rocks, so we went up for a closer look. (You may have read this story on Facebook.) We had a look at a couple of ‘caves’ up there, and scrambled onto the top rocks for a closer look at the plastic chimney pipe. It turned out not to be a chimney but, I am guessing, some kind of trig point which, according to my translation of the writing on the plate, belonged to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

While up there, we also looked at a WWII gun emplacement, after which I suggested we field walk the flattened ground nearby. This was merely an excuse to engage in a discussion about archaeology, and to plant the idea that history had happened beneath our feet. We wandered this probably well-trodden piece of ground for a few minutes when he came across a riffle shell, not a plastic, modern one, but a metal one with 1942 and some indiscernible Greek lettering stamped on the flat end. The shell had been fired, so was quite safe, but how long had it lain there, on top of the uncultivated soil? Why hadn’t it been found before? How had it survived the wind, rain, storms, heat, trampling feet…? Eighty-two years it had sat there waiting for H to discover it, and I think that’s pretty amazing.

Almost as amazing as the view from up there. Here are a few photos, there are more which I’ll share at some point. They are mainly of grey rocks, but whatever. They help me fill the pages.

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Here’s a quote from a Greek newspaper that gave me pause for thought: Andora, one of Athens’ historic movie theaters, in the Panormou district, is relaunching itself under the name Newman and after a radical revamp that has equipped it with stage, sound, screen and lighting systems.

Ignoring the use of ‘American’ English spelling, in other words, ignoring the incorrect spelling of theatres (and don’t get me started on ‘movies’ in a European newspaper), I had to stop and wonder what the alleged cinema had before it was equipped with sound, screen and lights? Was it, perhaps, a blank wall and a projector? Standing room only?

I’m joshin’, because it’s been revamped into an arts centre, cinema and rehearsal space, and is, apparently, an historic venue.

Meanwhile, here, there and everywhere across the county there is a 48-hour strike by some union or other which means the Blue Star ferries are not running, but the Spanos and ANES are because they are privately owned. The strike has been called by PNO, which is different to the UK’s P&O, although it sounds similar because we tend to pronounce it P’n’O. P&O stands for The Peninsular and Orient Steam Navigation Company (the Orient was added in 1840), while PNO stands for the Panhellenic Seamen’s Federation (Πανελλήνια Ναυτική Ομοσπονδία). So, now you know. Or, now you PNO, if you know what I mean. No? I’d better go and have a lie down.

Which I may well do once I have finished work. I managed 3,000 words yesterday without any issues apart from a slightly aching shoulder later in the day, and I am aiming for the same number of words today once I have done this, and my other blog, and as I can’t think of anything else to throw at you this morning, I’ll go and do that right now. Come with me if you want.

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Although the weather has cooled, it’s worth remembering that the ground is still bone dry, so be careful with naked flames and other hot things. Only a few days ago there was a forest fire over the water in Turkey. The smoke was apparent all along the coast, as you can see from this photo that Neil took that morning.

There is more cloud around at this time of year, but there are still clear skies and warmish seas to swim in. We’re still having plenty of day-trip boats coming in. I counted five yesterday and that was on the side of the harbour I could see, so I don’t know if any others arrived on the south side. The village is quiet, but it looks like Yialos is still enjoying some income, at least it is during the day. The evenings, I expect, will be much quieter.

Today, for me, is the day to return to the next book in my series and to start writing again after an enforced pause. Yesterday, I reminded myself of where I was and what was to happen next, and did some more details plotting and a little research. In this case, I was trying to find out what industries, in London, innocently used nitric acid in their processes in 1893. Quite a few, it seems. I was also looking up what kind of trees grow in Abney Park, Stoke Newington, and the hallmark for 22-carat gold, so that was an interesting morning. In other news, later today we’re raising a glass to Steve ‘Silverfox’ Fox, a dear friend who died unexpectedly last month. His funeral is today at 12.30 UK time, so here, we’ll be having a remembrance drink at 14.30. Because Rainbow is now closed, we’ll be at Lefteris Kafeneion.

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