A cover up?

This is a bit worrying. After I had changed the cover of ‘The Judas Inheritance’ and waited a few days, I went Amazon.co.uk and bout a copy, so that I could see how the cover looked. It arrived today but with the old cover, not the new. I’ve contacted them and said I will return it – which I won’t bother doing as I can give this one to someone. I just wondered if anyone else had bought a copy with the new cover and had it successfully delivered? I’ve not seen it printed yet, though it should look absolutely fine. Maybe, if you have ordered a copy in the last two weeks, you could let me know how the new cover looks.

Apart from that, Tuesday started well with a walk up through the village, past the museum and up to the road. This is the hard way of doing it, covering about three hundred steps up. That really gets the heart pumping at ten past six in the morning. After that, the slope of the road up and down is easy. I didn’t take the camera as the photos would have been the same as yesterday, which is what you have here.

After that, I came home to discover that another my travel articles had been accepted for a travel site and will be out soon. I’ll send the link when it’s there as the more views it gets, the better for me. That should be out in a few days time. The rest of the morning was spent tidying up a few things and doing some hand washing while we wait for the new machine to be delivered. I’ve got a few things to check online this morning, so I can’t stay long. I want to see if I can find out where the washing machine is, and then see if the yUK passport office received my application, then see if Jumbo has any outdoor furniture as they are now set up nine and deliver free if the order is over €100.00, apparently. So, going in with someone on an order can save you both money. I’ve also got to book a train ticket for when Neil is in England and check up on a couple of other things. All so easy to do these days online, what did we use to do? Phones and letters, I guess. Anyway, must go and do that, so have a good day.

Share on Facebook

Symi sunrises are back

I finally managed it. I changed the alarm from 5.30 to 6.00, as it’s slightly lighter then, and headed straight out for a walk up the road to Ag Triada and back down through the village. A short walk of about 40 minutes. I forgot my FitBit, so I am not sure how many steps that was or how long a distance, but not very far. From the Village Square to the cantina on the road above the village and back it’s three miles, so I expect what I walked was nearly two. As the days go on and the mornings get warmer I shall aim for more.

Talking of warmer… We were at the bar on Sunday for our Sunday afternoon tipple. I for one was wearing three layers, including a thermal vest. As other people arrived, we ended up with pashminas and scarves, jackets and mountaineering gear in the party. There was a cold breeze blowing even though it was a sunny day. The wind has dropped now, and it should feel a bit warmer. One thing’s for sure, it won’t be long now before people are greeting each other with the standard, ‘Hot, isn’t it?’

There was quite a gathering at the bars on Sunday. A funeral (or memorial) service had been held, and the men arrived for a drink afterwards; there was also a baptism elsewhere, proving how much ‘life goes on’, and others were gathering for the Sunday cinema club at Lefteris’ kafenion. From the looks of it, the event was well attended.

Things are starting to busy up elsewhere too. The Nikolaos X came in on its first day trip of the season over the weekend, the Panagia Skiadeni is also making trips, the Blue Star came in on Sunday bringing back those who had traveled to Syros on a short break, and, as I write this, the catamaran has just come and gone. I can hear it from my desk as it rounds the headland, even though I can’t see it at that point, and I can more or less set my watch by it. Well, I would if I wore one.

In my ‘news from the writing desk’ department, we have one more chapter of The Saddling to set out, and then the final check through to do before I can put that up for sale. So, hopefully only a few more weeks. It should only be two weeks, but we are both waiting to hear about the London Greek Film Festival. We being myself and my editor who also works for a film production company. If the film (and I mean the film) is selected, then he will have some arranging to do over there in the yUK, and that might delay the book’s editing slightly. I also have a script entered and am waiting to hear if that got anywhere (unlikely, the length was not within their guidelines, and I knew this but sent it off anyway). The festival is only three weeks away, and we are expecting to hear any day now. We were expecting to hear a while ago, but it is the Greek film festival, and we have had Easter. Maybe we’ll hear avrio. Anyway, back to that writing desk department and some work no a new comedy novel…

Share on Facebook

Let’s all go down the steps, ‘ave-an-acado

Let’s start the week off with a little story. I was heading down the steps to Yialos on Friday when I saw a lady crossing from one side to the other. Nothing surprising there. Said lady, however, was in her night clothes, with an anorak over the top, and carrying a basket of herbs. This was around eleven, so I assume she is a late riser. It’s not uncommon to see local people popping to the shop in their slippers during the winter, I mean, why bother getting glammed up when you’re only around the corner? No one is going to judge. I thought to myself, ‘Ah, she’s setting up her herbs as the day boat had just arrived.’ Indeed, she was. I approached and wished her a kali-morning. In return, she asked me to carry a couple of baskets across the steps for her while she made herself comfortable outside the old Symi Gallery. Or as comfortable as one can be in a nightdress on a blustery, rather cloudy morning in April.

I did my duty, wondering if this would make me an accessory before some kind of fact (I assume she has a street licence for her little enterprise), and went on my way.

‘Mister!’

I must admit to having a mild sinking feeling as I was hailed. I’ve seen what happens to the unwary who engage in conversation here, but I turned and replied, trying to hide the mistrust in my voice. It didn’t help that she was rummaging in a blue plastic bag. I didn’t need €5.00 worth of wild oregano. If I did, I could have picked some from the lane up the road. But no, she offered me a biscuit for my trouble. I accepted and, duly paid, set off, munching on my way. I assume she dressed at some time during the day otherwise those heading up the steps might have been treated (or not) to something rather surprising.

If you’re still wondering about the title of today’s post, I had a song in my head as I carried on down the Kali Strata, ‘Let’s all go down the Strand,’ that wonderfully pointless number sung by Stanley Holloway, and others. Apparently, you don’t have to have a banana as you do so as that was never part of the original lyric. So, I often throw in another random foodstuff as I go. ‘Let’s all go down the Strand, have a moussaka!’ is probably the most appropriate. On this day it was an avocado, for no discernible reason, and so it became, ‘Let’s all go down the Strand, ‘ave-an-acado!’

You’re going not have that song stuck in your head all day now, aren’t you? Sorry about that. If you’re not, then click here and hear a recording of it. You can add your own fruit.

I only mention that as that was about the most unusual thing I did over the weekend. Oh, I did arrange a mock O-level exam for Neil, read and advise on a short story for a young man from India, and start on a new book, but otherwise, it was a quiet weekend with dinner at the taverna in the evening on Saturday. It is now Sunday as I prepare this post for tomorrow, write a short report on the short story for said young man in India, reply to a couple of emails and then ‘mark’ the mock exam. After that and some vague attempt at housework, it’s going to be back to the new book idea, a farce this time, a kind of ‘Remotely’ follow on, but not. It’s going to be another Miss P story and anyone who had read ‘Remotely‘ will know who I am talking about. Anyone who hasn’t read it yet (shame on you) can find a copy on Amazon, in print and in Kindle format.

And now I am off to attend to my other duties and will wish you a good week to come. I may even have a banana.

Share on Facebook

The fall of the machine

Picture it: I’m sitting on the sofa reading a very entertaining book about Andrew Lloyd Webber (don’t ask) when all of a sudden I become aware that a heavy truck is passing by the house. ‘Must be a concert mixer lorry,’ I think. A little while later I realise that the road outside our house is too narrow for such a vehicle. ‘Must be Lefteris and his dumper truck.’ I consider this idea as it’s more entertaining the Lord Lloyd Webber, and then wonder why Lefteris has stopped his truck right outside our door and isn’t moving on. ‘Perhaps he is delivering something over the road,’ I think. After a few minutes, I come to realise that the sound is actually coming from within the house and I pop into the laundry room to see where the earth trembling noise is coming from.

I find Neil there, interrupted from his revision by the sound. We both look at the washing machine and then shout across to each other, ‘It’s the washing machine!’

‘What?’

‘I said…’

But we leave it alone as it’s not actually smoking or steaming or moving around the room, but it is being worryingly loud. I realise later that we have just witnessed its final final rinse and spin. Something’s gone for good, and €300.00 worth of machine is finally cycling itself off to washing machine heaven. Mind you, it was 13 years old, so you can’t complain. It had a good run, and it was a Greek make Pitsos, so bravo to them for building such a reliable home appliance.

This meant that we then had to buy another one and, with some advice from the lady who knows about such things, Jenine Olive Tree, I ordered one from the Greek equivalent of Dixons, online, for €250.00. That miffed her a bit as she only recently bought exactly the same model for a little bit more; ours was now in a sale and also comes with free delivery. When that will be is another matter and, in the meantime, there’s the old one to get rid of. An email to the Dimos will let me know how this should be done, we’re not going down the ‘dump it over a cliff’ route. Meanwhile, there’s still the washing to do.

Which is how I found myself at the laundry sink on a blowy Thursday morning. Luckily, mother had left some handy hand wash behind when she left last year, so I was able to use that. There’s something very therapeutic about manually washing t-shirts and under-things; it gives you time to think. Mind you, I did have ‘Welcome to the Machine’ going around in my head like a tumble dryer for half an hour as I washed and wrung, agitated clothes (by talking about Brexit), rinsed and wrung again, and hung out the essentials. The pile went down quite quickly until Neil came home from his aerobics and gym session and dumped his gym clothes on it. There’s still a lot to do, but plenty of time as we’re not expecting the new machine for a couple of weeks.

Meanwhile (again), the wind was up, and the sea was choppy, choppier than it looks in the quick snaps I took for today’s blog, so the washing has to dry inside. Poor old Jack is weathering the warm wind, though, and has taken up his usual place on his bench outside in the courtyard. He was sick overnight on Wednesday and had also cut his ear again, so he wasn’t in the best of moods. I’ve seen him drinking lots of water and eating only a little, so at least he’s doing that. We’re keeping an eye on him as we eagerly await the outcome of my first hand wash in 14 years. Will it be scented with the aroma of spring flowers from an Alpine valley? Or will it smell like it did when it went in the bowl? Oh, I can’t wait.

By the way, there’s a post coming up tomorrow, for the weekend, about the work of one of the charities that’s currently operating to help refugees and others on Symi, and other islands. Make sure you tune in to check it out.

Share on Facebook

The Times, 1963 and today

Just a quick ramble as I’ve been distracted by a newspaper. No, nothing to do with the shenanigans of the UK ruling leader, though I did just overhear the interviewer on the BBC ask a Tory, ‘Why can’t you just be honest?’ And that made me cheer her on – the interviewer I mean. No, the newspaper is a birthday present from Neil, a copy of The Times from my day of birth back in 19-something. What amazed me about this was the amount of type and thus typesetting that must have been done for each day’s publication. There are some photos later on, but the front looks like the old fashioned papers you see in period dramas, all small print on the front which announcements of birth, deaths and marriages. (Didn’t see my birth there.)

What also got me hooked was on page three and no, this is The Times 1963, so it’s not that kind of page three, but the headline of a story: ‘Woman attacked by grey squirrel.‘ If that was a headline now, I am pretty sure someone in the current Westminster administration would immediately ban grey squirrels on health and safety grounds. Meanwhile, other parties would call for them to be barred from entering the country, others would rise up to protect them (but not actually say so for fear of losing their seats in the House) while a certain party leader would say that he was going to make sure they got equal pay, decent housing, and were to be nationalised, as that’s what people want to hear today. Over the water, a certain American maniac with a personality disorder would grab hold of the animal, realise it wasn’t a defenceless woman, let it go and deny having ever touched it. Further south, someone would shoot a ballistic missile at the poor creature and go back to greasing his hair.

Honestly, I despair of politicians these days, more so than ever, so I am trying to train myself to have nothing to do with it all – apart from voting in this election that she promised was never going to happen (until it suited Ms Mayhem), via my postal vote, and local mayoral elections here on Symi, as I can, plus the European Parliament ones when they happen. Meanwhile, I’m going to go back to the kitchen, stir the vegetable curry I am making, and read on to page four of The Times before copying out its crossword, so I don’t have to write on the paper, and I can say that I have completed The Times crossword from the day of my birth.

That’s it. I’ll let you get on now – hope you enjoyed the random photos today.

Share on Facebook