Not much to tell you about apart from my day-to-day, which I won’t bore you with because I didn’t do much yesterday. In fact, I was at home all day writing, reading and doing not much else. Meanwhile, though, Neil photographed this in the square.

They were only a few feet from his workstation table. The other day, I walked past a turtle dove sitting on the ground with one wing out, and I thought it had been damaged. I stood not two feet away from it, and was about to take a photo (which felt like rubber-necking an accident) but it stood up, waddled away and then flew off. Just sunbathing.

Plenty of that to do right now, with the temp a reasonable 28 to 30 in our courtyard shade, not that I do any sunbathing there or anywhere, come to that. Sunbed Wars continue apace on the beaches it seems. ‘Sunbed Wars’ isn’t actually a war as such, but it is an ongoing discussion between tourists and residents alike about the varying cost of a place to lie all greased up and pinking. There seems to be a fashion among the wealthy these days that a) because they are wealthy, only they matter, and b) they’re happy to pay €1,300 a week for a villa holiday because they can, but then get all hot under the Cavalli if a sunbed costs more than they think it should. They are perhaps the sort who revel in the fact that, on some beaches, one pays twice as much for a thing near the water as you do if you take one at the back. Like the age-old snobby thing of how you ‘Took the opera’ last evening, and ‘Of course had a box,’ while the poorer classes sat in the pit happy with their lot. ‘We were so close, when Bartoli gave us her Queen of the Night, some of her spittle actually reached us! Jeremy has not washed since.’ You know, that kind of baloney which angers me, and to which I say, ‘Ms Bartoli would not sing that area, dear, she’s a mezzo. Get your stories right.’

Anyway, no idea what that has to do with sparrows or sunbeds, where, I think the point was that Sunbed Wars rumble on as pointless as a never-ending TV show (The Blacklist, Payton Place, Eastenders), and I shall keep you informed if I hear anything more.

I’ve just been through my morning emails. The usual. ‘Hi, I’m a visibility specialist…’ Yeah? So am I, when I put my glasses on, so what?
‘Hi, Wilson. I am from Capital FM, and we do interviews…’ (No signature, a Gmail account, no branding, no point, and who’s Wilson?)
All that kind of thing, plus one from a grumpy bank manager in Dubai who has been awaiting my response to his last email so we can discuss this money thing. “… this is urgent, and it is in connection with surname.” I can’t help feeling that it should have come out as “… this is urgent, and it is in connection with {SURNAME}” because he clearly got his macro auto-fill thingy up the spout.
So, welcome to my first thing.

I’ve been noting some common questions of late, people asking if they can get a boat from Symi to Halki (not directly, no), and asking if there are any places to eat in the village (yes, and more to come). The windmill that was once a restaurant called ‘The Windmill’ looks as if it’s about to reopen any time soon, but don’t ask me who or what. There’s speculation running around the platia about what was the cocktail bar, the other bar, the grocer’s shop, the sandwich shop (all the same place), and what it will be, and I know as much as the next person who doesn’t know very much. The rumour is, it will be an eatery of some sort. That will bring the total of eateries to seven in the village. Can’t say I am fond of the word ‘eateries’, there are too many Es in it, and it sounds very close to catteries and batteries, which must mean I have an aversion to the suffix ‘eries.’ Not to the places themselves, of course…
As I said, welcome to my first thing.

There was another question about island life, and that was to do with payments for taxis and buses. Yes, we are in the same century as everyone else now, and yes, you should be able to use a card to pay for everything (as long as the machine is working, the internet is working, and the proprietor wants to carry on working), but for a €2.50 bus fare…?

You know, cash is very important, because unlike those bucket airlines where you have to pay for everything, churches don’t yet have those machines connected to the internet and banks, so when you pop in to light a candle, take some cash to leave in the box. Can you imagine if they, too, went the same way as Ryanair and the rest? Walk into church, swipe your card for a blessing of Holy Water, and again for your candle… Imagine in the CofE churches… You’re going up for communion, you kneel at the altar rail and realise you’ve left your card back in your pew, so you pause the anthem while you dash back and get it, then queue again for the second round where the vicar solemnly offers you ‘The POS terminal of Christ…’ so you can run your card through it before receiving communion. ‘It’s for the family, Father,’ you whisper. ‘Will you be doing a discount today?’ So much easier to put a 50p piece in the box by the organ so the organist will give you another eight bars of ‘There is a Green Hill’ than sliding your card through the slot and using the stops to tap out your PIN.

Silliness. The point is, always have some cash for things like the bus, the church plates or charity boxes, the cab you decide to take on the spur of the moment and so on. Otherwise, yes, everyone should be taking cards, and I, now, should be working, so I’m off to ramble some more elsewhere.
I hope your first thing has started well.

We’re back to this. Me emptying my mind of whatever is in there onto virtual paper first thing in the morning. It’s 5.50, the temperature outside is a decent 25°, and I have the desk fan on because this room is always a little stuffy first thing. I’ll open the window when the mosquito hour has passed. If I open it now, I’ll spend the next hour trying to defend my feet beneath the table and swatting the buggers that investigate the screen.

I managed to finish the epic first draft of the last book in the third series, and in a day or so, will start again on the next and, hopefully, final draft. That was about my only achievement of the week, that and having some time off, which I didn’t know what to do with. I managed also to finish a biography of John Steinbeck and started on Agatha Christie’s autobiography, imaginatively titled ‘An Autobiography,’ and I am up to 1923, by which time she was 33 and had had three books published, so there’s a way to go yet.

I also saw some sights during the week, because to see sights around here, you only have to keep your eyes open. For example, we stopped at Pacho’s one lunchtime and discovered this:

A dish of things to go with your beer. That was a first for me. Must have something to do with the younger set who are now managing the bar. Also, we came across these:

They can be found in Yialos, in the shop that sells all the herbs, spices, oils and so forth that you might be looking for (terrible how the name escapes me right now). Along from the church towards the post office, on the corner by Taxas, which, by the way, isn’t pronounced Taxas as in Texas, but Ta-has, but with the X being a Greek X which is pronounced as a voiceless velar fricative, so there you go. (As in the German, Bach.)

There have been other adventures, such as having a hen bring her chicks down to visit, the parakeet popping by, and yesterday, the turtle doves sunbathing on the path and not bothering to move as I walked by. Very trusting. I also witnessed typical privileged tourist behaviour. You know, the sort of younger visitor who, having spent a good hour sitting in her BF’s lap in the café next door and chewing his face off, then decides to make a phone call, so wanders down to the next bar, plonks herself on a seat, puts her feet up on another seat, and yaps away for ten minutes, before leaving her ash in the ashtray, and wandering back to her own café. Well, honestly.

But let’s not start the week on a grumpy note, as I am sure there will be more of them to come in time. Can’t wait!

A note in advance. I am coming towards the end of an epic first draft, and I hope to have it finished over the weekend. Either way, I’m going to take a few days off from everything while I see to that and then put my writing feet up for another day or two. This means no more early morning nonsense from me until after next week. As I’ve nothing much to say today anyway, I’ll leave you with a gallery of recent photos to browse while I go and finish my manuscript. (Which makes it all sound very grand, when it actually means, I’ve got another 20,000 words at least to bash out before starting the thing again.)

If you’re in the mood for something to read and you’re into the mystery and thriller genres, then I’ve got this list of 73 titles by various authors whose books are available on various platforms, including paperbacks and immediate Kindles. You’re bound to find something here:

https://books.bookfunnel.com/mysthrillsus-jun/ckrwlbx0gy

And, hopefully, you will find something to look at here:

Back soon.

It’s getting like a zoo around here, what with tarantulas sitting on Neil’s head and parakeets in the tree. The other day, you might remember, I witnessed an owl hunting warblers in the afternoon, and yesterday, while looking for the parakeet, we saw a chaffinch in the tree instead. The ravens flew past yesterday, a pair that circles nearby, and there will hopefully be more to see as the season progresses. I’ve not seen the kestrels yet, though there were eagles over the windmill hills a while ago (more likely buzzards), and the turtle doves have brought their young one to the square.

The swallows and martins have been whizzing up and down the top of the Kali Strata, through the bars beneath the awnings, and out again, and often stop for a good old natter on the cables outside the house. We have the ever-vocal cockerels and chickens sharing the bin life with the stray cats up the road, a few gulls out on the water, where, this year, the dolphins came further into shore in the harbour. Some local creatures have still to make their appearance; the roaches, for example, and the snakes, and we’ve not yet had the usual invasion of ants into various parts of the house, though we’ve had some of those armour-plated millipedes, plus moths, butterflies, boring old flies, and other flying things, including a couple of Asian Migratory Locusts in the courtyard. They are those large ‘grasshoppers’ that clatter about the place, landing occasionally on one’s glasses. They remind me of those plastic, wind-up flapping birds that were all the rage at tourist attractions back in the 70s, and possibly still are.

And while all that is going on, so is the human world. Yesterday, with a party in the kafeneion for little Yiannis, who was two yesterday. (Thank you for the pieces of cake.)