Waking up to a calm morning after a very quiet weekend. All the activity was going on at the other end of the island this weekend, with some evening outings, music, celebrating down in the harbour, and in the village taverna at night. There was live music playing at Georgio’s on Sunday afternoon, which might have been by public subscription, and that was nice to hear as we passed by, but mostly, for me, the weekend was very quiet. Fewer boats in the harbour than of late, less traffic on the road, fewer people on the street, so when I went up to deposit the rubbish, it was just me and them noisy old chickens.
We seem to have done our own celebrating over the weekend, and that was because Neil finally finished his summer job on Thursday. He didn’t know until Friday, but that’s how it is. By way of celebration, I made a chicken stew with suet dumplings, and later in the day, made oat and honey biscuits, except we didn’t have honey, and the nearest I could find at the back of a cupboard was a jar of Indian molasses, but it worked. That, though, was the last of the suet. It’s one of those things that I’ve not seen on any shelves, neither here nor in Rhodes (not that I spend my days there looking for it), so it’s a rare thing to have in the house. Not that we have any longer because I’ve used it. Strangely, on the same things as last year’s packet: a spotted dick and eight dumplings. On which note, I’m off.
