Following on from yesterday’s taster, let’s again talk food.

Of late, on Facebook groups and probably others to which I am not privy, there has been some dissent in the ranks, concerning this fact: We now have an Indian restaurant on Symi.

Oh my word/days/life/god/whatever! You’d have thought it was the end of the world. I can’t remember the last time the blue skies over the island were so filled with the sounds of weeping and wailing, the gnashing of dentures, and the rustle of crinoline as pearls are clutched so tightly to the bosom. An Indian restaurant… on Symi? ‘We don’t want this.’ ‘It’s only for the English.’ ‘Never before has such a crime against my personage been so been foisted upon…. I can hardly speak for outrage.’

Get over it, people.

You know, I don’t often sound off about naysayers, but when you hear (or when, as has happened, you are confronted as though everything was your fault), that this spells the end of Greekness, and when you have to listen to things such as the above and ‘We don’t want Indian food on holiday in Greece’ there comes a point when one cracks like a poppadom.

Right. If you don’t want something different when on holiday, don’t go there. No disrespect to any of the fine eateries on the island, nor to the nation’s cuisine, but if you actually lived on the island 24/7/365 rather than thinking you own it for your two weeks a year, you crave for something other than meat and chips, Greek salad and bread.

Which is what George and I did on Monday; we wanted something different for our evening out and so, booked a table. We weren’t the first to arrive, although we were early, there were four Greek people on one table… read that again you would be Reformers… four local, Symi-Greek people were there enjoying their dinner. Later, a table of ten very regular visitors arrived, plus others. My godson was there, and apart from being born and brought up on the island, he’s also a chef for another establishment, and he was having a great meal. As did we.

I’m not one for photographing me dinner, but I got a quick snap before the other dish arrived. Each one was perfect, very tasty, and well presented, the meat was succulent, and had I been a judge on Australian MasterChef, or a pretentious food critic, I would have said something like: The combination of spices played a complicated yet satisfying polyphony which underscored the moistness of the meat, itself a symphony of harmonic taste agreement which resulted in a perfect cadence of gorgeousness… or some other such claptrap. It was lovely, and not costly either.

It’s at the back of the town square, so not on the harbour front affronting grumpy casual visitors, it’s opposite the children’s play park, next to the courier, ACS, which you can’t miss because that building is a lovely vibrant red. If you’re thinking of going, I’d advise booking because it’s already a very popular place, and the phone number is on the menu which I’ll post below. (English is spoken, so even Mrs Armitage-Shanks of Reformton will be able to make herself understood, not that she’ll go there.)

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Yesterday seemed to be all about food, floods and feasting. Oh, and fabulous things. After a morning at home with me hassling Amazon to get on and release the next book (and being told it will happen, just be patient), I prepared myself for my piano student’s end-of-season recital. This year, he was to play for his dad for the first time ever, so we were both a little nervous, even if a) I didn’t say so because I didn’t want to add to his nervousness, and b), he didn’t say so because he’s a teenager. We had a play through, decided there was nothing more to do, and talked about boats and the view while we waited for the audience. It (they?) arrived, we started with a swing duet, then he went solo for a grade four exam piece still in progress, the song he wrote during our theory and song-writing sessions, and finished Beethoven’s Fur Elise. The result: a proud teacher/god dad, proud dad, proud student and rightly so. Fabulous.

This, btw, was after the flood of the morning when I did some washing and had to empty the machine manually because the pump wasn’t working. Every spare towel in the house is now hanging up to dry as the only way to empty the thing is to drain it on to the floor. Strangely, when I did a second wash, the thing worked perfectly, just like it used to, but like it hasn’t for the last two weeks. We’ll try it again later and see what happens. Hopefully, it was a blockage that’s now moved on ‘cos there’s no way I can afford another machine. Strangely, the laundry room now smells of drains, which it’s not done for a while, so it seems we either have a non-functioning machine, or we have the smell of the drains. You can’t have everything.

As for the food and feasting, that was a trip to the new Indian restaurant in Yialos. My nephew and I went there last night while Neil entertained Mother in the village, allowing us some ‘Neph & Unck’ time. I will do a longer post about this tomorrow. Apart from the food, which was amazing, it was also good to see godson two was in town with his dad, and we were able to have a quick chat, which included me telling him off for not wearing a crash helmet when on his moped.

I’m not sure what’s going to be on the menu today, as it’s a stay-home day and there’s nothing much left in the fridge. A shopping expedition might be on the cards…

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It’s been a mixed and social weekend and it’s only Sunday as I write.

For a start, I released my next Jackson Marsh book, and it’s still not gone live on Kindle. Why? I don’t know. It usually only takes a couple of hours, but it was stuck in the system, as ‘Publishing’ for three days, so I contacted Amazon’s online chat help robot thing, and they looked into it for me. They came back with something like, Yes, it is stuck in Publishing and will be live as soon as it is live. Not helpful. Could they estimate when? No. Anything else they can help me with today…? No. Well, your boss, Jeff was here the other day, and if I’d known this would be the first of my 40 + titles to get ‘stuck in publishing’, I could have popped over to his boat and had a word. Anyway… As I say to my piano student, it’s all about the three Ps: Patience, Persistence and Practice. Without them, you get the other three Ps: Piss Poor Performance.

Moving on…

A while ago, a teacher of theology in the 3rd High School of Ilion in Athens contacted me to ask permission to use a piece of my ‘Symi Dreams’ music in his students’ video presentation. This was ‘in the context of our school program “Forgiveness Education”’, and of course, I said yes. The students have now completed their short video and it’s up on YouTube. It would be really nice if you had a look and listen (the texts are in Greek and English), and give the students a like/share etc., if you can, Here’s the link. https://youtu.be/1DNnex0llAA?si=Zsihm2Uh8anwrinL

We had a morning ‘down town’ on Saturday which included lunch at To Spitiko, and a humorous taxi ride back up with Constantinos. ‘Where to?’ ‘Japan.’ ‘Okay. Why not Botswana?’ ‘Okay.’ And so on. Harry came to run through his concert pieces in the afternoon, which he did well (in readiness for playing for his dad for the first time later today), and we had our obligatory balcony chat while watching the boats and mulling over the meaning of life. Later in the day, George, Mother and I went to Jenine’s house for a courtyard evening which involved pizza, wine, chat, laughs, and cats.

Now, we’re off into another week with the family visit continuing until Friday. George and I are off to the Taj Mahal this evening while Neil and Mother go to Georgio’s, we have another day in Yialos planned, a trip to Pedi and… Who knows?

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Well, this is quite refreshing, waking up to the sound of rain… Okay, so it’s only a few heavy drops, and it’s 7.00, and I’ve been awake a while, but you know what I mean. It also rained last night, just after we left the Kali Strata Restaurant and returned to Rainbow for a nightcap, with thunder rolling around and great flashes of lightning in the distance. It’s not done much to dispel the humidity which was 50% yesterday and still is this morning, but it’s only 27° this morning rather than being 30° + as it has been.

I think the ‘rain’ has just stopped, so I’ll load you up with some images and leave you to wander off into your weekend as I wander off into mine – which will include some writing (I hope) and checking up on the new book, ‘Where There’s a Will’ which, if you are following the series, is now available.

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What happens when too many people turn on their air conditioning at the same time? This:

At least, I assume that’s what’s been causing our power cuts these past couple of days; overload. Still, it gave us and our nephew an excuse to go out and sit on the balcony watching stars and satellites, while chatting about all and nothing. That was at the end of a home day, and after a nephew-cooked lasagne which took him several hours to put together due to the heat in the kitchen.

I have to say, I can do without aircon. We have two units here, one in my office and one in the mousandra for some reason. You can’t stand up when you’re up there, and we only use it for storage, but there’s an aircon unit gathering dust. We use fans to blow the warm air around, and that works for us.

I’m not sure what the plan is for today, apart from my penultimate piano lesson of the season this afternoon which will be the nearly last rehearsal for my pupil who will be playing for his dad (for the first time) next Monday. This morning, though, I think the boys are going swimming, and I’ll be publishing a book – you know, as you do.

This photo may not show you how hot it is here right now, but it should show you that the harbour is again filled with boats which were about the only light down there for some time last night.

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