I was up early this morning, so I was on the balcony with a cup of tea when the Blue Star came in around 5.30, gliding gracefully through the dark on a flat calm. The night before, we’d seen a helicopter come in more or less at the same speed. It seemed to take forever to approach the island over the water, then it glided over Evangalismos at apparently no speed at all, hovered over the helipad a while, and then painfully slowly descended to land. All very impressive. We often see these practice runs at night, through the winter months, and sometimes the summer too. Of course, if there had been an emergency, the speed would have been somewhat faster. Maybe as fast as the cars racing down the hill this morning to reach the boat before it set off again.

It’s mildly chilly in the office this morning, but the heater is staying off as long as I can bear as we had the electricity bill in yesterday. I’d been into my account about ten days ago with our self-read meter reading, and in between times, I’d had a letter from the company telling me the subsidies would no longer apply to mere mortals, or something similar, so I was expecting a not-so-cheap bill this time round, and although it could have been worse, it could also have been better, seeing as how we’ve hardly used any heating, hot water or the oven for the last two months. But, I was prepared and had saved for it, so with loins girded, I will get that paid today.

As for yesterday… A quick walk around the village in the morning while Neil was off down to the gym, followed by some writing, reading and TV which included a very good film called ‘Children of Men.’ This, to my mind, is one of those films with a strong message that is clear to ordinary viewers. It should act as a warning of things to come, and although fiction, shows those in power (in the UK in this case) the way the country and world are heading. However, it’s a film/message which will be taken as entertainment, not prophesy. That’s a shame, because like the other great social comment of the past year or so, ‘Don’t Look Up,’ the message is powerful, and a warning to us all, but one which will be ignored by those who could do something about it. It was a good film, but something of a scary one because it could easily be true.

Today, I have my usual kind of day with writing, walking, piano, and TV watching in the evening, because we’re saving the going out until later in the week, and there aren’t that many places to go out to anyway. I also have some serious writing to do because my cosy Christmas read, ‘1892’ is now published on Amazon in Kindle format (the paperback version will take a little longer), and I must move on back to where I was with the previous work in progress before the idea of the Christmas collection got in the way. This is the Amazon.com link, but you can find the book through most other Amazon-dot addresses.

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Continuing the Christmas build-up theme, here’s a photo of some of the lights in the village square. The ones I showed you yesterday, going along the lane, now go all the way to Taverna Zoi, so we have a twinkling path all the way from Georgio’s to the ‘American’ supermarket. Walking that way last night, Neil reflected on how many businesses there used to be along the lane, what with the bookshop, clothes shop, seamstress, cobbler, toy shop and others all now gone. Only some have been replaced by new businesses, while other premises stay closed. There’s some work going on in what was the household shop run by Mr Plastic as some called him (because of the things he used to sell), which then became the butchers’ shop (not the new one, the boys are still there and doing well), but I’m not sure what the work will be leading to.

As for everyone else, the bars are open, Scene is the place to be if you want late-night live music at the weekend along with a pizza, or a film on Tuesday night or just a place to meet while your children play in the park beside the café. Work continues in the new car park below, while everything else chugs along nicely.

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It was a quiet weekend in our house; writing, pottering around on off jobs, and then, Neil doing a Sunday lunch, which was perfect as always, followed by a couple of films on TV. There was some writing in there somewhere, and some Christmas sorting with a few presents wrapped, and the tree up. I’ll show you a photo one day soon, it’s hilarious.

The village Christmas lights are up along the main lane, at least up to the old pharmacy. I’m not sure if they are going to go any further, but the last time I saw them, that’s as far as they’d gone, and they looked great. I saw them on our way to Scene for supper on Friday (to welcome the traveller home). I know it’s not exactly Blackpool, for which we’re all mightily grateful, but it’s cheery.

Talking of Blackpool, ‘Noted for fresh air and fun’, if you remember your Stanely Holloway monologues (The Lion and Albert). We went there years ago, in early December, to see the Christmas lights, which we did. We also saw young men being carried drunk into pubs at nine in the morning, and the ‘girls’ over from Liverpool who entertained us as much as we entertained them. We did the Pleasure Beach (‘The Big One’ was the most recent ride at the time), saw the cabaret show, rode in a landau, and stayed in probably the seediest B&B imaginable. Oh, and the ‘direct’ train home took something like four days, crawling through England’s green and pleasant hills via all manner of towns and villages I’d never heard of and no one got off at, and delivered us back to Brighton… eventually.

Well, there’s none of that going on here. The train is packed away for winter, but the lights are out and up. Any of our beeches is a pleasure beach, and luckily, we have ‘no wrecks and nobody drownded,’ but ‘plenty to laugh at’, as Mr Holloway said in his recital. Just not the Christmas lights, because they’ve only appeared over the last few years and we don’t want to scare them away.

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I was reminded of a scene in The Golden Girls… The ladies are talking about a specific sound, and Blanche explains that when she hears rain tapping at her window she takes a shower and changes into her special nightdress, and… “Oh, when you hear rain tapping at your window. I thought you said Wayne.”

No Wayne for me, only the rain, overflowing from the roof and pouring off across the street via the gutters. I fell asleep without my earplugs in, so that was me at 4.30 this morning, lying there enjoying the sound, which encouraged me to get up and go more than I wanted to get up and go, if you get what I mean and where I was going. Still, not too much leakage inside, just the mysterious bathroom which has to be the roof, so that’s now higher on my list of must dos than ‘when I get around to it.’

Today’s wet beginning rounds off another week of weather warm enough not to necessitate the heating (for too long). Neil is on his way home and is currently in the land of Nod at the Castellum Suites in Rhodes. I have a message to send a message when I get up, which I have done, but if there’s no reply by the time I’ve done this, I’ll have to ring. I assume he’s after the 8.00 boat. That’s today’s highlight.

There’s a wedding taking place this weekend, and I heard last night’s fireworks even through the closed shutters and thunderstorm. Let’s hope things improve and the sun shines. For me this weekend, no weddings, but hopefully, I’ll get some writing done. I have the cosy Christmas anthology of short stories coming out next week, then I can get back to my next instalment in my ongoing series. Other than listening to all of Neil’s travel tales, catching up no news, and maybe seeing the family on Sunday for lunch, I’ve nothing planned, but lots to look forward to.

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Another quiet day at home yesterday, staying in and dry as the island spent much time under rain clouds. The rain showed up an interesting anomaly in the bathroom; a puddle of rainwater beneath the window. Ah ha! ‘Tis the window which leaks,’ methinks, but, no. I felt the tiles around and beneath the window. Dry. The ceiling above, and all of the nearby walls. Dry. Window frame. Dry. In fact, everything was dry apart from the water collecting on the floor, no drips. Nothing. So where on earth is that coming from? The roof has no cracks, and the paint looks sound. All very odd, but nothing major, so on with life we go.

But I’m not going very far today. I have the proofs of the new books to check through, and if all is well, approve, so I can get the necessary files to upload over the next day or so. Then, I have some housework to see to ahead of Neil’s return avrio, piano lesson, and… That’s it. ‘Avrio’, by the way, is Greek for ‘Tomorrow’ and one of those words I use in text messages because it’s quicker to write than English. I started using words like avrio as Greeklish shorthand with friends I knew would know what I meant, and now, sometimes, I can’t think of the English word, only the Greek. Dimos (Town Hall) is another one. ‘I have to go to the Dimos,’ my message or I would say, and that makes sense, as that’s what the building/department is called. It’s actually το Δημαρχείο, ‘to Dimarxeon’ or ‘to Dimarcheio’ depending on how you transliterate the letter χ, but Dimos is simpler.

There are other words, but it’s too early in the morning to think of them, and I’ve woken up with a very obscure song from a pretty unusual musical stuck in my head. It concerns Mrs Overall from Acorn Antiques the Musical, which I watched over a week ago, and good though the show is, having just three lines of one song going around and around in your head from wakeup to whenever is something of a trial. So, I’m blocking that out, and I’m going to pame (go). I must get on with this book, then later, think about some light shopping, run the duster around the shelves, see if the washing’s dry, sweep the courtyard if it’s not too wet, tidy up a bit and think about shopping for quartermaster’s supplies ready for the boss’ return. The return may be on the Dodecanese catamaran tomorrow morning, or the evening Blue Star. I don’t suppose there’s a need to book a ticket for either at this time of year, so there’s no rush. It can all be done avrio.

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