Not much to report today. No plumbing excitement on Tuesday, I spent the day writing, a couple of glasses in the square afterwards, a couple of episodes of Downton Abby in the evening (research you understand) and an early night. A lie in yesterday (to 4.30) and off for a walk at six. The views always look much better in real life than they do when I look at the snaps afterwards, but hey ho!
Blue Star, 5.00 Wednesday
There were more than the usual number of army guys heading up the hill to the camp yesterday morning. Private cars, mopeds and trucks. The officers live off barracks, I believe, maybe some of the local recruits too, but I don’t usually see that many. I wonder if that’s because the Prime Minister has been about. I saw he was on Tilos last weekend (I told him I wouldn’t have left by then, but he never listens), and I also read a report saying he was coming to Symi and Rhodes. Maybe he has, I’m not very observant. Perhaps that’s why there were more uniforms than usual passing me, maybe there’s always that amount. I don’t know. I’m just trying to fill space on this page. I tell you what, I’ll do it with a couple more photos.
The bridge to To Vrisi is currently rather closed – for bridge and water channel repairs
Monday, and a couple of mild waterpark interruptions to the daily routine… As you know, the other day I was halfway through a shower when the plumber called, and I had to answer the door in my towel. An odd place to have a door, I grant you, but what that incident taught me is that all those scenes you see in adult films and romances where someone steps from the shower to let in the plumber simply don’t work that way in real life. The same goes for when you are halfway through a siesta, as I was on Monday afternoon when the doorbell rang. Poor chap, very apologetic and there was a reason for his call…
The reason began at about eight that morning when the doorbell ding-donged and I answered it to find our landlord on the step looking like he’d just walked off stage from a wet t-shirt competition on a SAGA Holiday Island. He wanted me to turn off the mains water, and I could hear the sound of a gushing leak from his place across the road. I pointed out that the mains water was not coming in (it was Pentecost and a bank holiday, so no-one had been around to turn on the mains taps). That confused him. What confused me was how he didn’t know that the minas only fills his sterna and not his pipes. To stop the leaking flow, all you need to do is turn off the water pump. What confused me even more was that he used to be the principal of the technical college where, I believe, such things are taught. I offered my help which with my dreadful Greek accent and his non-understanding of foreigners talking anything but Symiaka only confused him more. Satisfied that his problem was not the mains water tap in our courtyard and that all valves were shut, he squelched back across the lane to have another think or maybe win a bottle in the ‘wet landlord competition,’ I don’t know.
The rest of Monday went without a hitch. 6,000 words of a new story took up most of the day, and of those, about 3,000 had to be redone because my keyboard is wearing out. I often hit the space bar, and nothing happens, so words have to be separated after the event. With others, it’s simply a question of my seven-finger typing technique and playing the keyboard as if I was playing a keyboard. You’ll know what I mean if you’ve ever been taught piano. One, two, three, thumb under, cross hands, left hand playing the letters in the treble range, right hand hopping over to the qwerty area with third and second finger, both hands fighting for the same key/letter, typing some words as quickly as playing an inverted mordent, that kind of thing. I did try learning to touch type, spending 45 minutes a day with my fingers in the correct place and only certain digits on certain keys. But then, after 45 minutes of slow, laborious rehearsal, I’d go back to my usual fast and inaccurate performance of my bad typing habits. Life is to short for typing school, I decided.
Random thoughts and random photos, and now I’m out for a random walk.
Another early start yesterday, at the desk before the dawn with the window open, flapping my hands at mosquitoes and heading to a folder on my PC to pick up on some work I was doing on Friday only to find the folder gone. As in: was there on Friday and is not there now. Odd. Checked the recycle bin, not there, did a search in Explorer, scanned the whole PC, not there, looked through every nearby folder in case I had accidentally dragged and dropped it into another, no sign. Scratched my head. Scratched a mosquito bite, which didn’t help anything, and searched online for solutions; didn’t find much I hadn’t already tried but tried what I hadn’t. Still nope… No folder. Here today, gone tomorrow kind of thing. Luckily, it wasn’t anything important, not a book or anything like that, but a bit worrying. If I’d deleted it by mistake, it should have been in the recycle bin, or somewhere. Still scratching head.
When I am writing, I make a backup copy of everything I’ve done and send it to my DropBox at the end of the day. At least, that’s the intention, but there are so many days when I forget I could quite easily lose a couple of chapters of something. A bit scary. Anyway… The week ahead promises warm weather with little or no cloud, a lot of typing and hopefully, a few walks. Apart from that, nothing to report from up here.
Good morning and a happy new week to you. A few new photos from a stroll and other events, a couple of quick tales, and then I must get back to what I was doing.
Yilos, Friday
It’s about time for a waterworks update. As you may have read, this on-going work isn’t affecting us, or at least, it’s not affecting our water supply… So far. The workmen, two affable chaps who turn up after they have finished their day jobs and fiddle about up on the roof. I sometimes see them on their way to work, riding in the back of a flatbed heading up the mountain. They don’t usually arrive at our house until five, and if we are out, we leave the gate off the latch to save them climbing over the wall. On Friday, they arrived early. That in itself is not a problem, and I was at home. Unfortunately, I was at home in the shower and covered in soap and shampoo. ‘Perimeni!’ I shouted through the bathroom window into the courtyard – wait! A quick scramble and I opened the gate to them wearing soap suds and a towel. They were apologetic, but not as apologetic as I should have been looking like Christopher Biggins in a bathhouse. I was laughing and told them not to worry, returning to my shower as they clambered up to the roof. A little later, I went out and left them to it.
Alarm clock, Bluetooth speaker, light – handy
That evening, we had guests to dinner, and I was concerned that the plumbers might be doing their thing above while we sat at the courtyard table, but when we came home, they had gone. The conversation did turn to the on-going work, and I mentioned that our only issue was a drip on the mains pipe when the water came in. Luckily, one of our guests was (and still is) the kind of man who is handy around the house. ‘I could fix that if I had a spanner and some tape,’ he foolishly offered. ‘It just so happens that I have just the thing,’ I replied. The leak was fixed before we’d finished the salad. Nice.
I’ll just sort that now
I found the time for a walk early on Saturday morning, wrote a few thousand words and, on Sunday, was up to go to the bathroom at three, and, on returning to the bedroom, was wide awake. So, it’s 8.50 as I write this yesterday, and I have 4,000 words down already. The body wants to sleep, but the mind won’t let it; that’s the reason I wake so early. My subconscious is still thrilled the fact that I don’t need to wake up at any particular time, and also excited that it doesn’t matter when I get up and start work. It interrupts my dreams as if saying, ‘You’ve had your four hours, now up and look sharpish.’ I rather like it.
Above the village on Saturday
That’s the news this Sunday/Monday morning. Now I am returning myself to the North Wales coast (imagined) and a semi-ruined lighthouse where a Ukrainian horseman and an English viscount are keeping watch for despicable villains.
Here’s a sweeping up from the floor of the photo department; a few random leftovers from the last couple of weeks. The hot news from the desk today is that all my saved logins and passwords (in Firefox) disagreed overnight. There was one of those Microsoft updates happening last night, the kind where they tell you ‘this will only take a few minutes’ and you still have time for a holiday to Tenerife while you wait. Suspicious.
Woke up today to find everything working fine except for every single saved login/password from the last five or six years has completely vanished from my Firefox settings. I eventually tracked down their help department and have sent a message via the community support as they don’t appear to encourage you to speak to one of their paid staff. Luckily, I have a secret and up to date spreadsheet where I record (most) passwords, so I was able to log back into the Symi Dream blog admin. Such a pain in the Boris if you ask me.
Poseidon day outMorning light on the rocksSunrise PediThe deskSunset SymiHaritomeni taverna
