There was great excitement in the house yesterday, because I actually left it and walked down to Yialos. I’ve been bent over the typowriter for the past couple of weeks, and haven’t put my head above the parapet much, but yesterday, I made an exception. A power cut was due at eight, which came along, leaving me to work only by the light of the PC screen and as I can’t type coherently in daylight and what with shutters closed against the cold, and no power… The only thing to do on these occasions is to get on with the housework, without water unless previously saved in a bucket, or to sit and read. There is the allure of the phone-scroll to avoid, if possible, the sweeping to do, tidying the cupboard, throwing things away, sorting out the courtyard, reading some more, doing a puzzle, talking to each other, cleaning the windows, whatever. You know, it’s hard to get by without power, because there’s nothing to do. Except take a walk to Yialos.

It was a beautifully clear and calm day, I didn’t need a coat or jacket, and there was a delivery to pick up from the post office, so off we went at about half eight or just after, took a stroll past the DEH guys working around telegraph poles at the top of the Kali Strata, and wandered down. And around to the large supermarket we always call ‘Sam’s Supermarket’ because he used to work there – we said hello to him with a wave because he is currently helping out at a waterfront café. From there, to the backstreets of Yialos to buy vegetables, because decent stuff is becoming rarer in the village this winter, thence to the post office for a warm greeting and a delivery, and on to Pacho’s to see if I could find George, the water controller, but he wasn’t there. A hello to the dentist taking his coffee at the herb shop, and a pop into the pharmacy to collect something for a tickly cough, and to receive a wedding invitation for June, as you do… We’ve known the family some time, and always ask the daughter (the pharmacist) how her parents and brother are doing, and all are doing well, thank you, and George is getting married in May at Panormitis, and we shall receive an invitation. Blimey. Last time I looked, he was still at school and being rebellious, and now…

Tempus fugit, and it continued [to] fugere as we negotiated the roadworks towards the new carpark, which was the taxi rank and quayside, the bus stop and beyond (there’s no traffic into the harbour from beyond the taxi rank at the moment, bikes can use the back streets and cut-through), and found Konstantinos and his mates already at work, so we took a taxi back up. We arrived home discussing how to get a, b, and c done in the dark, when the lights came back on. The power cut ended early for us, and its timing couldn’t have been better. I still didn’t get any typo work done, but that is this morning’s task.

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Another point-and-laugh at AI today, or at those who use it to scam. This morning, I received a very professional-looking email from something called Smart Promotion for Meaningful Books. As soon as I see ‘I came across [Title of Book[ …’ I know it’s not real. In this case, they had read the blurb for The Eastling (one of the old Saddling mysteries), and wanted to add it to a Goodreads list they manage, or something. All I had to do was reply and say ‘Yes.’ But I ignored it for a couple of reasons. Mainly, because it was another piece of AI-generated hopelessness put together from my own blurb and genuine reviews, and secondly, she/it/they/whichever used the phrase, reaching out.

Ah, you think, perhaps it was genuine, and what’s the harm in replying? The harm is that the machine then keeps sending you 100 other similar emails with slightly different wording. Secondly, the opening line proves this person/thing/whatever has not done its research. The email opens with: I hope Greece is treating you kindly, and that the deaf cat is approving your latest plot twists.

You can pick up that info from my Amazon author page – which reminds me, I should take off the bit about having a deaf cat because he died years ago.

Anyway, moving on… We’re having another power cut this morning from eight until one in our area, the Kali Strata and other locations nearby so I can’t hang around. I must go and prepare for that. That means, I’ve got to get in a whole morning’s worth of Tea in the next hour. No, actually, because we have the camping stove to use. More importantly, I need to get some work done and prepare to decamp to the kitchen, which, at the moment, is about the only room with an open shutter and natural light. So, I’ll not hang around, but I’ll put up a couple more of Neil’s photos and hopefully, be more chatty tomorrow.

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We’ve enjoyed a quiet, calm, blue-sky, sunny kind of weekend, with the temperature in the sitting room on Saturday evening reaching a balmy 13° after having a heater on most of the day, and the office staying at 10° no matter what. Morning routine: Windows and door open for an hour or so while we go about starting the day – it blows the damp out of the house, and saves trying to heat the whole place to dry it out. Obviously, weather permitting, but it’s been lovely, if chilly.

A slight downside. The young soldier who lives downstairs has gone on leave, and we miss hearing him laughing and singing on his phone every night, but, unfortunately, he went away and left a tap dripping. This means the shared water pump on our bathroom roof is kicking in every 14 minutes. Yes, I timed it. It’s not using any water to speak off, because it only takes a couple of drips and the pressure falls, so the pump reacts, but it’s always the same sound at the same pitch. I can hear it from anywhere in the house, and it does it all day and night. So, I thought I’d do something about that…

For a long-story reason, our pump is plugged into a wall socket in the storeroom above the kitchen. This was a temporary measure put in place by our late landlord about seven years ago, and it works just fine. It also means, I can isolate the pump by unplugging it when not needed, but this means going outside, up a spiral staircase and up a huge step into the storeroom – each time. So, when this drip thing happens, we plug the pump into an extension cable which runs down to the bathroom, where we can unplug it when we don’t need it.

However, the door to the storeroom had swollen in the rain, so there was no way I was getting in there without a fight and some skullduggery… But I managed it, plugged in the new, controllable arrangement, and then couldn’t get the door shut again. Not without more banging with this and grumbling about that. Trying to move a snib 2 mm so the door will close is not as easy as it sounds, not when you only have one multi-purpose tool and no idea. Still, I got it to lock, and blissfully, I only hear the pump running when I know it is being used. The chap below will be back eventually and hopefully, he’ll give that naughty tap down here one last twist and shut it off. He’s moving out at the end of this month, by which time he will have just got the hang of it, only to be replaced by someone else, who may not.

Anyway, that’s how the week is starting here, and here’s what it looked like over the weekend.

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Before I forget. If odd things happen to this blog in the next couple of weeks, panic ye not! I will be moving the site to a new host, and this may go surprisingly smoothly… or not.

Even at this young age, I occasionally get up during the night for reasons of easement, and last night was no exception. During the day, I had drunk a fair few cups of tea, a fruit juice and over three litres of water, which is about normal for us, and no wine, which isn’t. Even though it is attached to the house, our bathroom at 04.00 hours in February, in the dark, is not the most hospitable place on the island. I can’t imagine what it’s like for those who still have an outside inconvenience. A Gazunder under the bed, I guess, and if you were wondering why ‘in the dark,’ it’s because I don’t turn the light on in case it wakes up the cat we no longer have. Old habits. The garderobe business seen to if not seen, it was back to bed to resist the temptation to get up and start work, and to try and sleep.

It was around that time, either before or after, that I became aware of an unusual sound beyond my earplugs. I started wearing them when the cat first became an alarm cat about 20 years ago, and now I can’t sleep without them. Last night, I heard what, at first, I thought was a small truck or a bike approaching on the lane, but it continued at the same pitch for a while, and I wondered if it was a boat. Now, it’s the early hours, I’m trying to sleep, and I’m thinking through boat timetables. When is the Stavros due? Has there been bad weather…? Maybe it’s a navy ship going in or out, or the wind’s changed direction and it’s the coast guard… In the end, I had to take the earplugs out, and I discovered it was a helicopter. Unusual, but not unheard of. The helipad is used for some civic, church and military arrivals, pilot training, and emergency evacuations. Mostly, though, it’s not in use at that time of night. Let’s hope it wasn’t an emergency.

[Edit. 06.35. As I publish, I hear the helicopter coming back…]

Still, I managed to get back to sleep, despite the chatter of the cockerels who debate the time of day on all night, and was up and about by six. So, here I am, doing my usual ‘direct from my waking thoughts to you’ slot on early morning scrolling, and heading into another cold but hopefully sunny winter day.

Here’s the bit you’ve all been waiting for: Yesterday, while I was pottering about in 1894, Neil was pottering about the village with his new phone, having a get-to-know-you session with its camera and taking photos for these pages. He came home with quite a crop, and I’ll show them to you when I am back next week. Here, though, is a small gallery to get us started.

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I have a couple of photos today that Neil took yesterday when he was in Yialos. As you can see, all was calm on the southeastern front. Cold, but calm. There’s a breeze from the north which is possibly to become a force five wind later, with the temperature being forecast as between 10° and a high of 14° over the weekend.

That’s the weather report done, and now… I was thinking about Temu, that online Chinese shopping experience that people either love or hate. I am waiting for a delivery from them, and the site tells me it is, as we speak, ‘being handed over by customs.’ Strange to think that this packet of bits and pieces is now among thousands of others working its way around a massive warehouse somewhere around Athens or Thessaloniki, and will, somehow, escape from there and find its way to a neoclassical building at the back of the town square, where the lovely folks at ACS will send me a message or call me to let me know it has arrived, as will an app. All this will be followed by 101 adverts all over my social media (and probably yours) because I have dared mention the name on line. These adverts will, invariably, be for the things I have just bought, or for items from any other online outlet that I might have browsed in the past ten minutes.

Some people are scared of Temu, some don’t know what it is, and others currently swear by it. There’s a great debate about how to pronounce the word, too. Is it ‘Temu’ as it would be in ‘tempo’? Or is it ‘Temu’ as it would be in ‘teamu’? I suppose one could refer to it as ‘T’mou’ and attempt to pass as French, or you could pronounce it with a deep southern twang, and say ‘Tay-mou,’ in which case everyone will assume you are Dolly Parton. However you say it, you can find some handy things on there. Things you never knew you needed, such as a Pop-Up Bubble/Transparent PVC Round Tent. We all need one of those for the courtyard this summer. Or even for when you next go camping. Suitable for exhibitionists and those wishing a home sauna in August.

I’m not knocking it. I am enjoying my self-warming, USB charged fingerless gloves (apart from the trailing wires), and the side-winding, retractable, thermal body belt. It’s not all plastic roses in the garden, though. The rain macs I ordered for our winter trip around Europe (think ‘As worn on The Maid of the Mist’) were as useful as rice paper condoms, and created for Chinese schoolchildren, not grown men packed out with layers of thermals from Guangzhou. On the other hand, the fabric sofa throw looks like it has come from Habitat, when, in fact, it came by camel train overland across the Hindu Kush (free delivery). It’s a bit hit and miss, but some stuff is good and affordable, while other stuff is Christmas stocking fodder, and who cares?

If I can find the thing I want on the island, via Skroutz or from somewhere else within Greece/Europe, I’ll buy that, but if not, then I’ll look for it here. Along the way, I’ll collect a random collection of things I could live without until I saw them. I am, for example, waiting for the delivery of one ten-hour ergonomic Memory Foam Office Chair Cushion, a home screwdriver set, Portable Oil Sprayer and Dispenser, 2-in-1 Olive Oil Sprayer and Pourer, an air fryer rack accessory, five pairs of socks, 8-Colour Liquid Chalk Markers, Fine Tip, Washable Window Chalkboard Glass Pens, and a pair of slippers. No sign of what I intend to buy, but they should arrive in a neoclassical building at the back of the square within the next wee,k or I get a €5.00 credit for when I am next bored and fancy a browse.

On which note, this ramble has woken me up, so I shall now get on with my day.

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