I completely forgot about putting up a blog post in advance, I suddenly found myself engrossed in an idea for the fourth Saddling novel and everything else slipped my mind. So, today, have a few random images from the past couple of weeks, and I’ll try and think of something to write tomorrow.
Some of you know, I like to get up early and spend half an hour or so on the balcony with a cup of tea before setting off on the great commute from one side of the house to the other. It’s often quiet out there at that time of day. Sometimes I can hear the sea lapping at the harbour walls, other times, like Monday morning, I can hear the remnants of a party. This one was still going on when I came back from my walk at 6.30, so it must have been a good night. Perhaps people celebrating the change in government, or commiserating about it.
I often hear scratching and clicking noises in the ruined garden next door. Rats, I assume. I’ve seen inquisitive cats creep in there under the streetlamp light and soon come hot tailing it out again. I’ve seen a couple of the beasts (rats) around the neighbourhood, and we even had one come in and use our spare WC one summer. Honestly, apart from dropping its business everywhere else in the laundry, it managed to get some in the toilet. Chickens are another thing. Not as in, using the facilities, but as in being heard in the early hours, usually just before sunrise. There was one squawking so loudly the other morning that I thought it had been surprised roughly from behind; quite outraged she was. The cockerels too add some background outrage and alarm calling, and very occasionally I can hear seagulls, though that’s later on in the morning.
Owls are another more or less constant background sound effect. The beep or screech depending on what owl it is can be heard from a long way off, and I sometimes catch the flash of an underwing as the streetlight catches it swooping over. Cats supply the rest of the cacophony of the small hours, and not the musical. The cats around here don’t have a knocking-off or clocking-on time, they seem to knock each other off whenever they feel like it, and very noisily too. The human neighbours are quiet though. Sometimes the guy next door comes home in the early hours, either from a night out or a long shift at the army base, but even then, all I hear is a shower running, and that’s pretty quiet. Boats clank anchor chains, fishing boats engines chug out across the bay, the rumble and vibration of the Blue Star happen before dawn on some days, and the heavy clunk and grate of the cargo and water boats add their own SFX from time to time. And all that is without the zzz of mosquitoes which, in damper and cooler times, investigate my ears.
By the way, coming down from the mountain at 6.15 yesterday morning, I was passed by three funsters on a moped. I didn’t recognise them, tourists I assumed and ex-party goers. The guy driving had dayglo face paint in stripes and a rather glazed expression, though he did wave and smile (or he was about to be sick, it was hard to tell). On the back, a muscled and topless torso-lad clung on, I guess hoping not to fall off backwards and rip off his sunburnt skin, and between them was crushed a young lady, also dayglo-ed and glowing. I assume these were some of the folk raving it up until at least six in the morning. I was glad that a) I was not among their company and b) I wasn’t living nearby.
I thought I’d share some weekend photos today, then realised I didn’t have many. Oops. We were in Yialos on Friday, but I was so wrapped up in a morning out to the big city that I forgot to take many photos. Mind you, it would have been the same kind of thing as always: tourists walking around the harbour in large groups, views from Pacho’s and later, Meraklis where we stopped for lunch. The view from the inside of a taxi afterwards and then a few shots at the Rainbow Bar.
Actually, that’s what the images are, apart from the taxi. We were joined at the bar in the afternoon by ‘Arab’ as his name vaguely translates to. He’s a goat-dog who works out on the mountainside with his boss, but who likes to take time off to wander the village and greet everyone. On Friday, he decided to hang out with us. He was a bit hot and bothered, but we gave him plenty of water, and he was happy to rest in the shade, ignoring the ginger cat doing the same thing across the way.
I often see Arab on my way up the hillside when I go that way, and on more than one occasion he had guided me safely through a herd of oncoming goats, overtaking me and then walking in front until we’ve passed through the throng before running back to make sure they are behaving behind me. Nice dog, and no, we don’t want one. He’s housed, cared for and looked after but does like to wander the streets so don’t be alarmed if you run into him.
So, dog-day done, it was home to batten down the shutters against the wind. It’s been cooling and blowing away the humidity, but the house is now littered with dead leaves and other things blown in from afar. When it’s windy (it was only up to force 5) we end up with lots of purple bougainvillaea flowers in our sitting room, and there’s isn’t such a plant for miles, so I always wonder where they come from. (I say ‘miles’, you know what I mean.) Thus, Sunday is to be a morning of housework, sweeping the courtyard and inside, hoovering and other joyous activities. I have made a head start; I cleaned a window on Saturday.
You know, I’ve heard so many visitors to the island recently saying, ‘You don’t want to live in the UK these days’, and telling me how depressing it is, what a mess it’s in and how frustrated they are with what’s happening and with those who are causing the country’s decline. Because of that, I thought some Saturday Symi photos might cheer us up. But then, I’m living here on Symi so I don’t need cheering up. Except when I too get frustrated with what’s happening to my friends back there in the yUK and I understand the frustration of being told ‘”The people” decided three years ago and have no say in it anymore…’ Etc. So… As the country slides further to the right-wing and into chaos, perhaps it’s time to plan your Symi holiday and get away from it all.
A few random Symi photos now follow…
Here’s a quick update on the Symi International Film Festival to be held on the island in September. “We have 210 films from 47 countries to choose from. The quality is exceptional, which makes the selection even more difficult. We now have four weeks to make our choices. The quality makes it very difficult. We would love to show more, but the screening time is just not available. We have 100 hours of runtime submitted but just 15 hours of screen time available.”
I don’t envy the committee the job, though I do envy them being able to view all these excellent submissions. The festival is held at the village sports complex, outside in the courtyard, under the stars where the films are projected onto a large screen. I believe that the films also must be subtitled and that they come from a variety of countries, offering a truly international flavour. The showings are usually in the early evening, but more details will be put up here when I learn them, and there will, no doubt, be posters to come in due course.
I am also waiting to catch new of the Symi Festival, the music, dance and arts festival that usually happens around August. I’ll share info about that as soon as I see any.
Meanwhile, I am having something of a festival of time off, kind of. I’m ‘between books’, the literary equivalent of a resting actor, I suppose, though it’s not very restful. After six months of hard slog on four stores that just fell out, I now have to decide what I want to do next, or else, wait for inspiration to strike. Meanwhile, I write for a couple of hours every day, and even if it’s not used, what comes out is a good practice session, and you never know, may lead to something interesting. There’s nothing as inspirational as a blank page.
