I’ve often thought about having a t-shirt made saying:
Yes
Cold
Same as summer
These are the answers to the three most common questions asked by new visitors to the island.
Do you live here?
What’s it like in the winter?
What do you do in the winter?
Between Neil and I, we have worked at the Rainbow Bar in Horio for nearly 19 years. I started there in September 2004 helping out for two weeks while Yiannis’ son went back to university. That two weeks turned into two months, and then twelve years, then Neil took over after closing his shop. During that time, we have met hundreds of new people, some day trippers, some longer-stay visitors who then come back, and some who have come here to live. Just about all have been interested to know more about island life, and on finding a local captive to interrogate, let loose with their questions. This is natural, of course, and understandable, and when we’re exploring other places, we’re also interested in the way of life. So I’m not knocking it, but after all this time, it becomes a little repetitive.
‘Do you live here?’ is an honest enough enquiry, though I have been known to reply: ‘No, I commute from London, but it’s worth it.’ People have a natural curiosity to know more about the island, and what better way to find out than to ask a local? Mind you, not everyone bothers to listen to your answers.
You know, that’s something that bugs me, and it doesn’t apply to visitors asking, ‘Do you live here?’ It applies to people all over the place, here, there and abroad. What is it with some people who ask questions they clearly don’t want the answer to? I have a few examples of things that bug when it comes to being on the receiving end of a question, and these monsters fall into these groups:
Ask and interrupt. You begin your answer but have only reached halfway through the overture, set-up, or introduction depending on whether you’re a musician, dramatist or academic, when the asker asks another as if they weren’t really interested in the first place. If that’s the case, why ask?
Ask and talk about themselves. This is a classic, and Willy Russell brings it up in Shirle Valentine when she points out how men turn conversations to themselves. Roughly: a woman will say I like Thursdays, and the man will say, Do you? I like Wednesdays, and suddenly you’re talking about him. Well, it works the same with many people. ‘What’s it like in the winter?’ Cold. ‘Oh, I don’t mind the cold. It was always cold when I lived in…’ And that’s that.
I call it CQD, and I know several people who have it. QCD, by the way, stands for ‘All Stations: Distress’ in Morse code (the pre-SOS mayday signal). Some say it stands for ‘Come Quick Distress’, and I can support that, but for me, it also stands for Compulsive Questioning Disorder.
Then, there are those with the inability to recognise to whom a question is directed. You’re sitting in a group, someone looks you in the eye and asks, for example, ‘Do you live here,’ and one of your number will answer from left field, sometimes even from the next table as if they didn’t deem you worthy of answering the question clearly meant for you.
Here’s another one that makes me shudder internally. You’re walking back from the shop with your non-eco-friendly blue carrier bags bulging with six everyday items which these days cost six day’s wages, and you pass the café tables, as we must to get home, and someone will say, ‘Have you been shopping?’
‘No, actually, it’s a severed head.’
Worse is the non-asked question, i.e. ‘Been shopping I see.’
‘I must. How else will I collect enough plastic bags to wrap over the heads of the inquisitive and seal with gaffer tape until the inanities cease?’
Others of this ilk include, ‘You’re not drinking?’
‘I am. This is a glass, and in it is water. The glass travels from table to mouth and bit by bit the liquid level goes down. Thus, it’s safe to assume, I am drinking.’
‘So, what do you do in the winter?’
No matter how much we’d all like to say, ‘None of your business. What do you do in the winter, big nose?’ for the sake of politeness, you come up with a stock answer and list the things most people do most of the time no matter the season. All rather prosaic, but honest. The winter questions suggest people can’t understand why anyone would want to be on a Greek island for any other reason than taking a holiday, wallowing in the sea, or spending two weeks discussing sunbeds. Either that, or they assume we’d only want to live here in the summer before buggering off to the drab drear of the yUK for the worst months of the year. Of course, we live here in the winter, it’s our home. What do you do after six months of alleged summer at home in Surrey? Do you say, ‘Come on Brian, summer’s over, let’s get back to Greater Manchester.’? Odd.
Seriously, it’s nice that people are interested, and questions are simply an opening gambit, so I can’t knock anyone for asking them. It’s human nature and that is that. To be fair, it also works in reverse, and visitors might like to create their own t-shirts with the replies:
Two weeks
Yes thanks
Anastasia’s
This is in answer to the most common initial questions asked by people who live here. How long are you staying? Did you have a good journey? Where are you staying? It’s all code for the real question, ‘When are you leaving?’ but no-one puts it that way. Well, I might if someone asks too many inanities of me.
What’s the answer? You may ask. For my part, it’s easy. When someone hasn’t taken their pills and runs off a stream of ‘Do you…’ ‘What’s it…’ What do you…?’ ‘How is it…’ I now simply point them in the direction to my Amazon page and say, ‘It’s all in the books.’
