What can I tell you today? Yesterday started well with the main water being turned on and filling the tank from 04.00 in the morning. The valves you see around the village attached to the black pipes are opened manually, so either the conscientious operative did it on the way home from a concert or a late night, or gets up and goes to work as early as I do. Either way, the trickle and drip is always a welcome sound. The pressure is also better at that time of day because, I guess, other properties haven’t opened their sterna intakes because, like most sensible people, they are asleep, so we get a head start. Our tank was full by eight, ready for a day’s battering from the four people who now have to share it.
That seen to, and after knocking out a draft chapter, we headed down so I could continue upgrading my teeth, and Neil could search out gifts for the grandchildren for when he sees them in November.
Now there’s a thing. What to buy? What’s a classic Greek souvenir that you can only find here, has been made here, says ‘Greece’ and sparks in the young person an interest in another country? There are plenty of choices. For example, a bottle opener in the shape of a phallus. A mug bearing the face of a surprised donkey. A plate in the ancient style, mass-produced in Asia. A bottle of wine with ‘Malaka’ on the label (for the grown-up children, and it’s actually a very nice wine), and other such ‘must-haves’ are to be found everywhere. There are, of course, the slightly less low end of the market trinkets, including evil eye keyrings, colourful pottery and similar things produced mainly overseas. Then, there’s the top end (which wouldn’t be suitable for the grandchildren yet), such as the pottery and jewellery you can find in the more specialised shops in Yialos. So, the world is your oyster when it comes to taking special gifts back to young people. So far, they have a tin of baklava each, and we’re still scratching our heads.
Anyway, the harbour was busy, but we were out before the great twelve-to-two rush. Constantinos, who drove us up, tells me that’s the worst time of the day for foot traffic, the taxis and the bus. The Sebeco comes in on the south side, the red trainer ‘boot’ boats too, and the larger ships dock in the Petalo port. They all bear passengers who want to get into town, with most walking on the road because they’ve never seen a road before, and others cramming around the six-foot-wide piece of harbour front as they trudge along like refugees from a sunbed encampment. Between twelve and two is the time not to be driving around the harbour, yet people must. I am glad I don’t have to; I wouldn’t have the patience.
What else? Er…The temperature seems to have been a pretty regular 37° in the shade in our courtyard for the past month at least, occasionally only getting to 35° now and then – and that’s a lot cooler than usual for this time of year. The humidity has been reasonably bearable too, and the promised Meltemi hasn’t yet made itself known to any extent at all. When that blows in August, it’s usually like sitting in front of a hairdryer, but I’ve not noticed that yet.
And so on into the rest of the week ahead.
