So, what did I do over the weekend? Answer: Not much. I spent a fair amount of Sunday on the sofa with the return of a cold, but now, on Monday morning, I seem to have fended that off with some treatments. Saturday, we popped out for a drink and a catchup with Miss DJ, and for some supper with Jenine at Scena, but otherwise, my weekend was spent reading, writing, and sticking together two halves of the Cutty Sark that didn’t want to be stuck together. I am sure these things aren’t made as well as they used to be, or did we put up with two halves of a hull that don’t actually fit? I probably got my older brother to do it for me. Either that or stamped on it until it was trashed. Later today I’m going to have another go at clamping the basics of the ship together because I can’t do anything else until that’s done. It reminds me of another Airfix I tried once, the Titanic that Neil bought me years ago. I spent hours painting the hull only to find the two sides were incompatible. Anyway…
Back to the positive side of today, which is the start of a new week, with much to be written and read, piano lessons and modelling with my GS, a walk if it stops raining… On which note, I did get out and about for a short wander around the village over the weekend. Not a huge distance, I’m still not up to that, but a start, and I’ll do another half an hour later if the weather clears. It’s still dark as I write and the rain has only just stopped, so it’s too soon to assess the conditions. If all is well, Neil will be off to the gym as per usual, while I type and stroll, later to teach and glue.
It’s that green time of year.
And the same will probably continue for the rest of the week, and I’ll flit between the desk and the sofa where we have the heaters and the blankets (ten degrees on Saturday, the coldest it’s been so far this winter, in our courtyard at least). That’s about it. Must get on.
There are but a few images left in my collection of ‘What I did in my holidays,’ because, after New Year’s Day, I was laid up in bed, or rather, on sofa. I’ve never been much of a one for taking to my bed when unwell; there’s so much else going on in the rest of the house I’d rather watch and listen to. Better than lying in a dark room. The only time I’ve been able to ‘take to me bed’ since the age of about 18 was when I went down with a bout of labyrinthitis. I was living on the edge of the Lake District, and had driven over to Morecombe to visit a friend for the night. We went out with some of her mates, I had one beer because I was driving, went home and all was well. Then, around 3.30 in the morning, I woke up with the room spinning like it does/did when you were a teen and had too much Pomagne, or, if it was after choir practice, too much whisky. Having staggered to the bathroom on all fours and been vociferous at both ends, I crawled back to bed with a bucket, there to remain for two days without moving. It wasn’t until the doctor appeared and gave me medicine ‘nil by mouth’ that I started to improve. Another day of lying prone, unable to move to even drink water and I’d have been in hospital, the doc said. As soon as I could though, I was on the sofa where at least I could stare at schools’ programmes (there was no daytime TV in those days, and wasn’t the world a better place for it?). It took me two weeks before I could drive home, and another two months before I could walk without a stick.
Things to do in Athens…
But that’s man flu for you. The last two days in Athens weren’t that bad, though I got through t-shirts like no-one’s business, daren’t cough for fear of ripping out my insides, and wasn’t able to eat much. I managed some chicken soup with added chilli from a takeaway. During that meal we were treated to the full force of the teen letting off steam after trying the chilli chicken (which was even too hot for Neil). Don’t you love it when someone tries something, doesn’t like it, and blames everyone else around them for their failure to enjoy? Give him his dues, the effing and blinding were justified as it was 100% chilli and 0% chicken, but what was more impressive was the projection. Hearing it gave me the idea that at our next Thursday music lesson, we would turn our attention to voice work for the next month, and try some singing. If he can swear at fortissimo and keep a good tone, he can certainly try signing.
On the second sofa day, I ordered Neil to go out with the others as there was no point both of us staying home, watching old films on TV and shivering. They had a good time, did my shopping for me, took it all up Lycabettus Hill to see the views, came home, dressed up and went to the Nutcracker at the GNO while I stayed in with Angelina Jollie and other choice films. I was able to get my packing done, and the next morning, was awake early to get dry and warm, and shove things in a bag or two, later, to head to the ferry.
Picnic on deck
Here’s another Athens tip: there are places to leave luggage, so if you’re not at a hotel and you have a few hours to explore before heading to the airport or docks, you can find a left luggage place just off Syntagma Square (and other places), and for a few Euros, leave your bags there – which is what we did, until it was time to take a taxi to Piraeus. And there’s another tip or two. The dock for the Blue Star to Symi, usually E1, is a 45-minute walk from the main gates, and I know, because I have done it in August. There is a free bus, but I’ve only ever taken it the other way. The train from the centre of town to the port is quick and it’s only a few stops, but the stroll at the other end is not advised, especially if you’re in a hurry. So, I always take a taxi to the boat. If you want another tip, there’s a café/bakery right by E1 so you can stock up on snacks before boarding and you’ll find them cheaper and there’s more variety.
Watching lorries reverse onto a stationary ship is a boy-bonding thing, apparently.
Another good tip is to book a cabin, something I was unable to do. When they finally put the Symi connection on the route, I dashed to secure two cabins, and there were two left, but by the time I’d booked one for J and the teen, the other had gone. Not to worry; I only use them for a couple of hours’ kip anyway, and normally that wouldn’t be a problem. This time, I alternated between an airline seat and the sofa out the back where Neil slept for four hours, and I paced for most of the 16.5 it takes from Athens to Symi, until we finally arrived home at 7.30 last Friday.
KalymnosSymi from the north-west side
There, that’s my ‘What I did in my Holidays’ update and how thrilling was that? (Inserts yawn emoji.)
Next week might bring different news, I’ve already got some shots of the grey and damp weather for you to look forward to, and there will be some other less interesting things to talk about too, particularly as it’s now modelling season. On which note… the Teen is coming for his extra music lesson later (must remember to get the singing underway), and we’re following that with a model-building session in the kitchen during which we will discuss manly things like barbers and ballet, before making waffles. And that’s enough waffling from me… Have a good weekend.
New Year’s Day began quietly with a gentle awakening in our rented apartment, and a lazy morning. Eventually, we headed out for a walk around the nearby cemetery… I know, sounds gloomy, but it wasn’t. We were able to see monuments to Melina Mercouri and other notable figures from Greek history, and enjoyed a quiet, pleasant walk in the sunshine. I was beginning to feel a little odd at this point, so favoured a couple of hours back at the apartment with cups of tea before we set off again towards the mall.
The bus didn’t arrive, so we flagged a taxi, or ‘apped’ a taxi, I guess, as we called one on an app, and this chap drove us at Grand Theft Auto speed to the mall some five miles and 30 seconds away. There, we did some hanging out, watched the sun set over the coast, had fast food, and went to the cinema to see Wonka. I only fell asleep once, and managed not to cough and splutter over people, but, to be frank, was happy to get home where, later, I spent the night wet, sweating, cold, too hot, and generally not feeling tip top.
I should have mentioned that on the way home we took the metro to Syntagma to view the lights… yeah, yeah, very nice, but I want my Ovaltine, before walking the short distance home to our creaky apartment with its excellent view of the main road – excellent for the car spotter among us, that is.
Athens trip, day two. What didn’t we do? The day started with a hair appointment. Unlike when I cut my hair with a pair of clippers and little enthusiasm, and unlike a trip to a local barber or even one on Rhodes, this was something of a state occasion. Planned, booked, and looked forward to, I’d recommended a barber we’d used in the past just of Syntagma Square. Traditional, very well kitted out, and professional, I knew they did the full service from ears to nose to shaves to haircuts, although those extras weren’t needed on this occasion, and nor was the ‘Something for the weekend, Sir?’ that only British men of a certain age will understand. Even the floor tiles are interesting at Sir Barber.
I stayed with H while the others wandered, and was treated to a strong Greek coffee – my first in many years – while himself had his hair washed and discussed, books were brought in and browsed, deep deliberations were held, and finally there was some in-the-chair action with clippers and scissors, combs and much theatre. Another wash, some more business, and then some product analysis, and 45 minutes later, there was a beaming teen, totally made up and having had his first trad barber experience. I, by this time, was bouncing along on a large shot of caffeine and the sniff of ammonia thioglycolate fumes, and off we strode to meet the others at Panepistimio. Strode, note. We’d been to a gentleman’s barbers and left there like the Johny Walker Whisky man, all strut and confidence (and caffeine).
Once we’d rendezvoused with the others, we strode on to find the Nakas Music Store where I could have spent the rest of the day. Talk about choice. All I wanted was some more piano music to play, but… what? I bought a book that will be useful for our piano lessons and thought I’d come back another day for a longer, solo browse. A treat that was to be denied me, as it turned out. That done, we then headed to Old Man’s Paradise #3, the model shop. I don’t mean Smantha Fox type models, but kits and paints, and the smell of both, and middle-aged men with their sons and godsons oohing over undercoats and Humbrol, marvelling at fake grass and plastic parts, and trying to avoid saying things like ‘In my day…’ We have two kits to build, you see. A Cutty Sark for me (Airfix), and a Toyota of some modern sort for the teen, but like the barber, it’s something of a first, so we needed the right paints and brushes, tweezers and cutters and… Eighty Euros later and off we toddle to the real event of the day, the shopping mall.
Panepistimio
A quick aside here. We’d bought travel cards so we didn’t have to worry about a) paying each time we took the metro or bus, or b) being fined for not stamping the tickets. (Not mentioning any names.) Five days of unlimited public transport travel for €8.20 (except the airport connection), and, it’s an old-fashioned paper card so there’s no need to top up this-and-that or breed oysters or whatever. Easy, efficient, and very cheap. So, metro to the Mall to enter a world of OMG. Obviously, Mother went off to do leisurely lady shopping while we boys did expert boy shopping: two t-shirts, a quick look at some tech, then a sit down with three plates of noodles and beer. Done. What’s next?
While there, we booked tickets for Wonka on New Year’s Day, and then, as Neil’s treat, strode next door (the haircut empowerment was still in full swing) to go ten-pin bowling. That did little for my back, but was great fun, even though they put my name up on the board as Topy, and with the Greek Ro (r) looking like a Latin P it was, in effect, Tory, but the good-news omen here is that I lost.
That match was followed by a pool competition which, playing as myself and without political affiliation, I won, and then it was off home to put our feet up and admire the hairdo. Again. The coffee had just about worn off by the time I sat down for half a pizza, looking forward to the following day, which would be New Year’s Eve, and I’ll tell you about that tomorrow.
We’re setting off to Athens today, except online in story world, not in the real world, because we’ve already done that, and here are some photos to prove it. But… ten days ago, we set off for our New Year adventure, and it started, as all good stories do, with a boat. (A train works better, but we don’t have one of those.)
The ferry was at a reasonable time of the morning, and the walk from Akandia to Mandraki was a pleasant one, especially as Neil took my luggage because I’d put my back out. We had time to kill which we were going to do at Mandraki with breakfast, but the plans started to go awry when H discovered he’d dragged his case through dog sh*t. Hell hath no fury like a hormonal teen, Shakespeare once didn’t write, but let’s just say there was great consternation and gnashing of teeth, beating of the breast and entreating to the great God of WhyMe? With the end of the world upon us, the goddads slipped away to find breakfast and a remedy for this early-morning teenage angst, returning a little while later with food, water, half the supply of papers from the public toilets, and a new toothbrush. The luggage cleansing was a success, and the universe was put back on an even keel.
Off to the airport.
Using Rhodes Airport in winter is almost a pleasurable experience. Being fair, it’s a very easy experience, and as we’re only ever flying within the country, it’s quick and quiet. I remember being there in the summer one year, escorting a couple of family members to their check in, and witnessing the horror of queues of passengers snaking through the concourse, outside, and along the path a mile or so. Not having this, I thought. So, I left my party in the queue just in case, and investigated what was happening at the desks. There, I discovered that a new check in had opened, and only a few people were being herded there by their rep. I was wearing Chino shorts, a white shirt, and had a travel bag slung over my shoulder, so I popped forward and acted the ‘organised, in a hurry, and keen to get my business done’ holiday rep act, in Greek, saying: ‘Sorry, mate, but are you checking in for the Exeter flight? (Or whatever it was.) Answer: brusque but affirmative. So, head down, checking a random sheet of paper and looking professionally flustered, I hurried back to my party and nearing them, called their names while still checking the paper, and signalled them to ‘Follow me… Quickly now.’ Reaching the front of the long queue and the back of the very short one beside it, I projected, ‘They’ll check you in here, and I’ll meet you on the other side,’ and left them to it while I stood a few feet away, attending to a vital text message from head office. Upshot: my party were checked in within minutes, and all was well.
Anyway… There were no queues when we reached Rhodes airport for our flight to Athens. In the winter, with the sun shining, it’s a pleasant place to be. We’d taken the bus there for €2.50 each rather than a taxi for €30.00 or whatever it is now, and had plenty of time to check in (no queue) and hang around upstairs after exploring the shops without the crowds.
I always like it when you can walk across the tarmac to the plane; it feels like you’re trusted and everything is homely, but in this case, it was a bus ride as the plane was up the other end (a technical expression). It also took off the wrong way around, by which I mean, we set off in a direction I’d never taken off from before, so we got a different view of Symi before turning and taking the usual course. There were occasional breaks in the clouds to allow a view, but before you know it, you’re up, along and down again, arriving in Athens 45 minutes later. Quicker than taking the ferry from Symi to Rhodes.
Symi on the horizon to our left.Somewhere in the Cyclades, I think.
We had a Welcome Pickups driver waiting for us (highly recommended), who whisked us off into town and our apartment in a very comfortable car with Teen in the passenger seat examining the controls and no doubt imagining how he’ll be driving something similar in less than a year (yeah, right), and we landed safely ‘a few paces away from the Acropolis Museum,’ as the Airbnb blurb had said. It wasn’t that far from anywhere, actually, and came with lots of amusing quirks, like shower heads held on with masking tape (not even gaffer tape), and such like. It was handy for a decent supermarket, so we split up and shopped in pairs with one pair ringing up a total of €52.14 and the other, quite independently, ringing up one for €52.13 – how odd was that?
Shopping done, stored, unpacking done, blah blah, it was off to find food. (Teen must be fed every two hours or it does a gremlins thing and transforms into hormone monster.) Not far from our pad was a very nice Asian restaurant which did us well for dinner. It was opposite a Tibetan food place which I mean to call back to but never did. So much choice not enough time, and you will read in future instalments…
