News coming in from Rhodes of a major incident concerning some British tourists. The UK Government are currently seeking ways to extract them from the danger zone and make sure all those affected get back to Middle Britain safely. They are calling in the Royal Navy and there have been rumours that the R.A.F. may be airlifting out those worst affected.

Apparently, and my source in not official, the incident started just after breakfast on Tuesday. Mrs Armitage-Shanks, having beaten the Germans and completely towelled the poolside area, then dispatched herself to, in her words, ‘The funny little man who sells the papers by the market.’ She spent a good ten minutes searching through the German, French, Dutch and even, god forbid, Greek newspapers in search of the only one she ever reads and believes, only to find there were NO copies of The Daily Mail to be had, not even for ready money.

When news of this complete collapse of the British overseas newspaper service reached the rest of the group back at the hotel, a panic started. ‘We were not expecting such a rush of protests,’ Mr. Kiriadis, the hotel manager, said. ‘My staff did admirably but were no match for the horde of half-dressed chubby ladies (very nice, thank you) and under-dressed men with bigger bellies who marched on reception. We simply had no copies of the Daily Mail to give them.

‘I was disgusted,’ said a Mr Pyramid (54) from Barnsleydale. ‘I’ve been coming to Greece for nigh on two weeks now and every day I get my copy of the Mail delivered to me fresh by the wife along with my socks, sandals and Union Jack T-shirt, freshly ironed, mind. But today? Nothing! Who’s going to pay for the inconvenience? I might have missed something vital.’

A Mrs Ideal Standard (46) told our reporter that, ‘We have to read it to see what we should be doing! They said that the sky might fall on Greece today and that we might have to get shipped out to Sheerness because of the million immigrants coming into Britain tomorrow who are going to steal my son’s dole money and squat in my house and I’ve only got the three spare rooms that the council pay for, I have to keep one free for my back copies of the nation’s favourite newspaper.’

‘We are dealing with a major crisis,’ Mr Kiriadis told me by phone at lunchtime. ‘The police sent out scouts to every newsstand and peripteron we could think of and yet, no Daily Mail. These poor British have no idea what to do next. Some are in tears, some have refused to eat, saying they have no idea what to have for lunch until the paper tells them what they can and can’t eat. Some have offered their children  in return for a copy, but no one is admitting to stocking this particular newspaper. And I’ve not even had my coffee yet.’

Police Lieutenant General Takis Papatakisopolous, called in from Athens, reassured the tourists that, ‘All was being done to make sure you get your daily dose.’ At a riotous meeting of tourists, tour operators, hotel staff, newsagents and some happy Dutch girls who had wandered in to see what the fuss was about, Papatakisopolous called for calm and offered that the Greek authorities should pay for copies of The Independent or The Guardian to be flown out before lunch. But this only led to more tears, and calls for his resignation. Mr W.C. Flush of Gaddleminge (65 and three quarters) said, ‘I’m going to sue over this. Someone is responsible, and we want compensation. This is the second day of our three day holiday and it’s been ruined. I’m writing to someone important this afternoon and demanding a four week stay in the five star Hilton as minimum compensation. No Daily Mail? It’s an outrage. What’s the little woman going to read on the khazi now?’

There was a happy outcome to this Greek tragedy. After several hours of tough negotiations and research, a copy of the Daily Mail was located in Nusaybin on the Turkish/Syria border. The Greek authorities gladly put all the disgruntled DM readers into a small fishing boat and paid the owner the rest of their holiday spending money to sail them across to Yeşilköy on the Turkish coast so they could make the rest of the pilgrimage on foot – knowing full well that when they got there the good people of Nusaybin would only send them back to where they came from.

 Crisis averted. For now.

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“Are you in Greece? What impact is the risk of leaving the single currency having on your life? You can share your experiences by emailing haveyoursay@bbc.co.uk .

 If you are available to talk to a BBC journalist please include a telephone number.”

So far (Monday late morning) everything seems to be the same around here except it’s pretty obvious that tourist numbers are down on the island. And I reckon we can blame the lack of British visitors on the good old British press and their mad scaremongering tactics to sell papers through invented misfortune. Neil went to the bank yesterday and got some money out, we went out for dinner as a Sunday treat, and, despite the best creative efforts of one of the Brit papers, Greece was not comparable to ‘the last days of Pompeii’, which, having seen the film with Frankie Howerd, conjures up all kinds of debauchery – yes, no, titter ye not.

Besides, wasn’t Pompeii a bit of a surprise to everyone? Did they have time to chill out, eat, drink and be Mary before the thing blew up? There must have been a few rumbles and such like but to suggest that they (and now ‘the Greeks’) were acting like Nero in Rome as the place burned… well, I think the newspaper was mixing its mythology, history, and probably metaphors.

So, there I was last night, fiddling while Rome burned and enjoying a very nice pork dish at Georgio’s, and that followed on from a very nice light lunch with friends in the courtyard, so we had a very pleasant Sunday thank you very much. So much so that we missed our 5.15 appointment on Monday morning, though I was awake and could have gone, and instead, settled into some writing work.

And, as I write this, the BBC might be interested to know that, as at 11.05 on Monday: day trip boats are arriving, the taxi boats are going out to the beaches, there are many pleasure yachts in the harbour, a couple of big ‘uns too. Last I heard both banks were giving out cash – though I think Alpha may be limiting their amounts – and all seems perfectly right with the world. A few locals I overheard yesterday were on the side of ‘get out of the Euro and be done with it,’ and presumably they are coming from the vantage point of having large families to support them, growing their own food and catching their own fish, being used to hardship, having nothing much left to lose and having a feeling of wanting Greece to be Greek again; national pride and all that.

As for me? Well, whatever. You know? I’m not the most politically active cushion on the back bench, and I can’t vote in Greek elections anyway (only local), so that’s that, but don’t get me started on the referendums… Had a brief chat about that Scottish referendum the other day: one country voting to leave a union of four, but only that one country’s residents allowed to vote. How democratic was that? Load of rubbish. And the possible 2017 one on leaving Europe? Well, heaven forfend! That’s going to be won or lost on the strength of headlines in the likes of the Daily Fail. “Leave Europe and you won’t have any more smelly foreigners getting their hands on your taxes, not that you pay any as you get all kinds of benefits yourself, but that’s okay because you’re white and read this newspaper.’ Daft. Vote in a government and let them get on with it. Don’t like them? Well, you should have gone and cast your vote rather than sitting at home saying ‘not interested’ and doing the tea-time quickie.

And, that’s me for you. Have a good Tuesday – hope you like Neil’s photos from last weekend.

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Hmm, not much writing done over the weekend, must try harder during the week. So close to the end of the first draft now, but the last few scenes are pretty complicated so I don’t want to rush them. I also need to write lyrics to a song and find a way of presenting the song, as that’s part of the big finale. I wonder if it’s possible to get someone to record it, when it’s written, and to have the recording online. Then put a link in the Kindle version to that page and one in the print version, so readers can go off and hear the song when they get to that point in the story. There’s an idea…

I just need to write the song, get someone to record it for me… Meanwhile. I am looking out of my office window on a Sunday and the room around me is now a dusty, sandy, salmon-ish pink colour that has already been described as ‘light terracotta’, which sounds much better than pink. But it’s a warm colour, in the north facing room, and it looks very smart. Neil spent four hours on it on Saturday while I did the housework. I’ve moved furniture around as well to make room for the sofa bed which should be on its way afore long, we hope.

Saturday evening was given over to guests and more cat pampering by some of his fans, Viv in this case:

And Sunday was given over to more things around the house and a bit of chilling out. Neil went to get some money out, I did some baking in the recently cleaned oven (why do manufacturers call oven cleaner ‘Oven cleaner’ – it never actually cleans anything) and, as I write, we’re expecting friends for lunch. After that? Well, it’s a Sunday which usually means an afternoon in the square and possibly a quick meal at the taverna, but we will see. We have a 5.30 appointment tomorrow (Monday) morning with the ladies who want to see the sunrise and open some bubbles to celebrate a birthday. We said we’d walk up the road with them and then join them on our run back from the monastery. But in order for that to happen we have to get an early Sunday night and that’s not happened for the past few weeks.

Down in Symi town I can see the boats a coming and a going and life going on as usual. The soldiers have done their Sunday morning ritual at the war memorial, we can hear them singing from up here – they also come back in the evening to lower the flag. The tail end of some further-north thunderstorms has passed us by with a little cloud the other day, but now normal service has been resumed. The Poseidon is going out on its round the island boat trips, the shops and cafes are all open, the tavernas and bars too. At the house, the plants are growing (all but one) though the chilli seeds haven’t come up yet, the cat is still shedding more fur than he owns, somehow, and I spent 40 minutes hoovering the sofa on Saturday and it’s already attracting more white fur. Viv brushed off four handfuls on Saturday night and no doubt I could get the same from him today. Mind you, he does look much thinner after a good brushing.

So, off into Monday we go and this week we have only one house guest planned, a lot of writing, and very little else. Perhaps I will even get draft one finished by this time next week? And remember, if you’ve not got a copy of ‘Lonely House’ as yet you can find a copy at Amazon here.  And if you’re a Kindle reader you can get the Kindle version here.  Bring either with you to Symi and I’ll happily sign your copy.

I know, I won’t sign your Kindle of course, I was only joking about that.

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Had a great piece of spam email in today, well, semi-spam I guess as it was from Amazon and I haven’t taken myself off their email list and I suppose I could do. But it’s worth staying on it for moments like this.

Dear James Collins, we thought you might be interested in these publications for your summer reading: ‘Symi 85600,’ By James Collins…. ‘Carry On Up The Kali Strata’ by James Collins….. ‘Village View, a year on Symi, by James…. I think the clue is in the question hon!

And there’s a thing. Since when did everyone start calling each other ‘hon’? Facebook users will know what I mean. I know some people do use the word (and when they use it on me the flesh does tend to creep, sorry), but also a lot of people don’t; and yet they do when putting messages on FB. ‘Hi hon, how you doing?’ ‘Mind your own business and don’t call me hon, hon.’ ‘Okay hon.’ I mean, what’s all that about? And how much more American do we need to get?

Anyway, it’s Thursday as I write, I’ve done my morning’s work, I’ve been up since 5.15 and we’ve walked/run up the mountainside to the monastery again and all the way back, and I’ve not really been out an about anywhere else recently, hence today’s images of the same old same old. I’ve had emails in from the UK keeping me up to date with what’s happening in Greece (a couple of gullets going out, the Symi Sea Dreams just came in, there’s a wood pigeon singing, the Alarm Cat’s asleep on the Louis Vuitton trunk) and telling me what is going to happen in Greece in the near future (a few more gullets will go out, the Symi Sea Dreams will come in, a wood pigeon will sing and the cat will sleep on the trunk) and perhaps I should think about stashing my money under the mattress. I would but I don’t have any to stash so there’s no point in doing that, is there?

I know, things are getting serious and the UK press (I can’t speak for other countries) are covering themselves, as is the UK Government from what I understand, and shuffling up to be in poll position to be able to say, ‘We did warn you,’ if anything untoward happens to a white family from Godalming if they have a bad experience with a hotel owner in Kalodosalopolos where they had to pay for a drink when they thought they were getting all inclusive – as some of the UK ‘Press’ do. You know how it is. We’re living in interesting times – and if the blog suddenly goes ‘dark’ you will know that we’ve run out of fuel for the power station, but let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.

So, in the meantime, eyes on the government and the situation, yes, but also on life and getting on with the day to day because you can’t change the fact that each day comes one at a time, until they don’t; and in that case it will cease to matter. So, I have things to do other than worry about ‘what if.’ There’s a book to be writing and a book to be promoting, there’s cat fur over everything to be picked up and stuck back on (see how he likes it), there’s a courtyard to be swept, a Sunday lunch to plan, for Sunday obviously, a soiree tonight to attend, a mountain to walk up tomorrow morning and all kinds of fun to be had. So, I’m off to get on.

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It’s Tuesday, it’s 45 minutes before the Greek Prime minister makes an announcement, thought, at the moment, to be about Greece leaving the Eurozone at the end of the month; possible clamp down on cash withdrawals from banks, possible limits on shifting money out of the country, and all kinds of other things going on. My contact in the UK sent me a link to the headlines of the British press this morning and I took a quick look to see what the news about Greece is:

“Two chocolate Bars a day might cut strokes.” No, Mirror, won’t be able to import chocolate soon. Er: “Morning after pill can be sold to under-16s.” Possibly a bit late in certain places I can think of. No, that’s not it Guardian… “How chocolate can add years to your life.” Thanks Express, but I’ve been living by that belief for many years now. Keeps looking…

“Greedy dentists fleece families.” Well, if they are so greedy, D Mail (averts eyes), how come they clothing all those families in fleeces? I could do with a new one for the winter, thanks. “It’s boil Ascot!” got to be The Star. Get that fleece off, it’s June! Moves quickly on…

“Pope warns of ‘unprecedented damage’ from climate change.” Can only assume, Independent, that he got his info from a higher authority. “Starr sues ‘grope victim’ for £300k.” That’s from something called Free Metro… Keeps looking… “3 Mums, 9 Kids, 1 Hell.” Screams the Sun who are clearly reporting from Sotiris’ goat farm up the mountain, but no, not what I was looking for…

Ah ah! The Times, in its second leader, or whatever t’s called, “Greece in ‘state of emergency’.” Well, as far as I know it’s not, but it may be in eight minutes as it’s now nearly 14:00, the appointed hour for the PM to have a chat with us.

Financial Times: “Tsipras vows to resist ‘pillaging’ of Greece in blow to deal prospect.” A pretty big blow if he is indeed going to announce, in seven minutes that he is not paying the moneylenders their money so they can give him some more that he can use to pay them back with next time. (Sound like first class laundry service to me.)

And The Telegraph: “Greece on brink of Euro Exit.” At last! My headlines. Thanks for telling me that. Now I know what’s going on. Of course I should have just gone and read one of the 101 available Greek newspapers, which actually I do do from time to time, or watched the everlasting news programmes that are on, which I do less frequently now that I have Sim City BulidIt on my tablet.

If I sound flippant it’s because I am. I will let you know how the forthcoming Grexit (as it surely is a certainty now) affects us as it goes on. But so far, so good. And it might even get better for you coming on holiday as things should be cheaper, unless they’ve been bought in from abroad, like fuel and power, and gas, and supplies in which case, they might be the same price for you earning Euros, Sterling or Dollars etc. and more expensive for anyone earning Drachma. Ah, it’s two o’clock now, just need to post this up with some pics from the photo bag and I can go and see what’s to become of Greece for real. Meanwhile, I shall set about my two chocolate bars while I can still afford them.

And, sorry to throw this in as what looks like an afterthought, but in more important and local news, I just learned from Michaelis at the Town Hall that Pacho, of Pacho’s kafeneion fame, has died. Very sad as I am sure a lot of people would have known him.

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