Yialos by night. (Not brilliant photos, they were taken on my underwater camera, and it was very dry.) This was last week actually, I’ve not been out and about at night much over the past few days, though we did nip out to the Windmill on Monday for no reason other than because we wanted to. And very nice it was too.

The war memorial is lit up at night. On a Sunday some of the soldiers parade with a flag, sing the National Anthem and then hoist the flag at the flag pole. They return in the evening to take it down, but this one stays where it is.

Some tavernas, like Aris here, put their tables further out towards the road leaving room inside for dancing, but also to catch any breeze that may be out and about. (The lens needed cleaning.)

This was still early evening, it had just got dark, but darkness falls pretty quickly after sunset around here. This is on the corner by the bridge, a popular café. Behind it you head into the back streets and the first lace you encounter is Georgina’s Emporium which has a large range of wine and a delicatessen.

Earlier in the day the Herb And Spice corner was thronged with day-trippers hearing a talk about the produce. Beside here is a small souvlaki shop, and to the other side, left, is the second pharmacy, then a travel agent. It’s a busy corner and one of the few places on the island where I feel like I should look left and right before crossing the road – sorry, right then left – as cars and bikes come around from the bridge, and from the front, and from the backstreet.

The shops in the harbour stay open until late into the night as it’s a place that comes alive after dark, especially if there is a Festival event on and lots of boats in the harbour. You can buy clothes, jewellery, even your groceries until approaching midnight.

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Today you have some of Neil’s images from Sunday night’s Symi Shrimp Festivals for your photo-viewing enjoyment. It was a hot night, the event was well attended, and how those dancers keep cool wearing all that costume is beyond me. I did read, somewhere at the museum (when opened), that the traditional head scarves a lady wore would sometimes number 20 or more – how heavy would that be? (Rhetorical question, no need to answer.)

But, traditional dances, with traditional island songs and traditional Symi shrimps and products made by the Women’s Association of Symi. All part of this year’s Symi festival. Tonight in the alternative, complementary festival is an evening of opera with Michael Powel, to be held in a private garden in the village, but open to the public, starting at 9 pm, directions will be given from Syllogos Square, look out for them if you’re heading up that way. I had the pleasure of accompanying Michael a couple of years back at an ‘intimate’ concert on Leros attended by several hundred people, all local dignitaries what looked like an admiral, and a TV crew. Great voice; it’s going to be a lovely concert.

And then there is the festival of Magalos Sotiris up in the middle of the island. We have attended the evening there on a few occasions, the last time we went in the back of a flatbed truck, and, apart from a fabulous festival, we were treated to the stars and Milky Way right over head. If you’re on Symi anytime it’s’ worth getting up into the hills at night to see the stars without light pollution. Pretty and amazing, and pretty amazing.

I’ve been having my own festival of rewriting and editing on ‘Straight Swap’ while ‘Lonely House’ continues to sell and gather interest.  We have some copies (in the UK) that we want to send out for reviews, so if anyone has any idea where might be good places to send them… Being over here in Greece I am not up to date much on what publications, papers, magazines, TV show, radio shows etc. might carry out book reviews, so if you have some ideas please drop me an email. Just click here. Ta.

And here’s another thing for you. I have an idea for the cover of the next book but will need a couple of models and a photographer. If anyone fits the bill and fancies being a cover model (we can negotiate a fee) or has a son, uncle, brother, cousin, friend, who would do it, again please let me know. What I want to create is something like a DVD  cover (I’ve used ‘Two and a half men’ as a rough example) but showing the two main characters. I’ll go into detail if anyone offers their services, but the two guys would need to be, or look, around 19 or 20 years old, one has long dark hair (but of a rock/goth type), the other is blonde (a bit fey). I’d just need body shot of each guy posing, they don’t have to be together, I can then Photoshop around and set the cover up. Anyway, let me know if you would like to help. Just click here.

That’s it for today’s ramble, we’ve gone from Symi shrimps to Ashton Kutcher within 500 words, not bad for a Tuesday morning. A couple more photos from Sunday:

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Into August and there’s probably no need for me to mention how hot it is. I could instead mention that fab weekend just gone, with surprise invitations to a birthday party, guests at the house, work on the book, the Symi Festival getting underway, the Symi Shrimp Festival held in the village square and more. The photos today are from Saturday evening in Yialos.

Apparently the mayor of Symi is to throw a party for the foreigners who support the island, and has been gathering names of residents and long-term visitors who are not on the electoral roll. With the next elections some years away I don’t think there’s a political motive other than to be seen to say thank you. And not only to those who host businesses, promote the island in blogs and positive web posts and advertising, but also those who return here or come to stay for lengths of time, and thus, I imagine, anyone who supports the island through commerce and visits. This did make me wonder if he was going to give out awards, and that made me wonder about the 2015 Symi Ex-pat awards…

The categories might be

• Ex-pat most likely to open a new business this year
• Ex-pat most likely to close a business this year
• Best new foreign business not involving alcohol
• Ex-pat most likely to need hospitalisation due to too much fun
• The most sober Ex-pat of the season
• Best Ex-pat band
• First Ex-pat business not to receive a sundry fine in a season
• Best original reason to expatriate
• Best adaptation to current climate
• Best Ex-pat in a supporting role

And so on. You can fill in your own winners and have fun making up more. There are plenty more to make up but I’m not allowed to show anyone up on these pages…

So, instead, I’ll get your Monday off to a bright start with a few more images from Symi’s harbour on a Saturday evening.

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Happy August to you. Here on Symi we are seeing it in with high temperatures, concerts galore and lots of sweat. Actually, I had a very productive day yesterday which did indeed involve a little perspiration.

First off we were up at 5.30 and out and up that hill to ‘To Vrisi.’ Then back, and I finished off a piece of work by 10.30 leaving the rest of the weekend free to do my own thing – always a good feeling. So, after tidying up the courtyard and dealing with His Majesty’s litter tray, not my favourite job in the world, and chopping back some of the vine, and moving some plants around, and putting together an Ikea bathroom cabinet, doing the washing up and sending some emails, I decided I need to go and check the post office.

A slow walk down the steps to Yialos, and around the back streets to the post office followed. There I found that a distant cousin had sent me a small book, a biography of my dad’s cousin John Collins of Harlow. There’s a bit of a story here, and this book is a nice tie-up at one end of it. First, here’s a totally unrelated photo:

So, back in 1694 or thereabouts, a chap called William Collyn was born in or around the Essex borders near Quendon (could have been anywhere actually as we’ve not found his birth in any records yet). He, by 1717, was a wheelwright in Quendon, Essex, and after he was married and has a few children, died, leaving his business to his sons. One, William 2^nd (as I call him) carried it on and then had children of his own, one of whom was called Harvey, after his mother’s maiden name. Harvey Collin (as the name was then being written) moved to Harlow, leaving the Quendon business to… Not sure, possibly someone else as his brother was by this time a successful Wheelwright in Clavering. I hope you are following this. Just for a break, here’s another unrelated photo.

Harvey (and William 2^nd who we think went with him) set up his business in Harlow and then later his son James Collin (not me) carried it on and developed it into coach building. When coaches started to get replaced by other things, his son (we’re on my great grandfather now) William Collins (we gained the s thanks to the Victorian censuses) turned it into a bicycle repair and retail shop as no one was in the mood for decent carriage wheels any more. Moving with the times, his sons William C and Reginald kept the business going and developed it into car mechanics and so on, finally passing the business down to my first cousin once removed, John who eventually wound up the business before he died in 2006. Harlow council bought his collection of old and rare cycles, which are now on display in the John Collins wing of the Harlow museum. Go and see them!

So what was the point of all that? Well, just that the other day I found details of my 6^th great grandfather and there yesterday was the autobiography of my 1^st cousin once removed, kind of bookends of the Collin family line a so far discovered. And on that note, I will let you get on with Saturday. As for the rest of my Friday, well that was spent working on the book, putting up the bathroom cabinet and relaxing.

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Early Thursday morning as I remember it: Wake at around 4.30 thinking it is time to get up. Note that it is not, the fan is still going full pelt and the room is still around 35 degrees, with the window wide open. There’s no breeze. Wake at 5.30 with alarm going off. Out of bed, into shorts, straight to front door to let in cat before the whole village is woken up. Feed cat, wash face, grab water bottle.

Heading out of the gate (via the thermometer at 31 degrees at 5.40 a.m.) and through the empty village square. Lefteris kafeneion is open and Lefteris is around somewhere. Pass the bakers, the bread just coming out of the wood oven on long peels (I looked it up), notice the baker wiping his forehead and swigging water. Pass the Jean And Tonic Bar, music coming from behind semi-closed doors, the sound of chatter, and on through streetlamp lit lanes, turning right to head up towards the museum. Pass a fit family carrying their bags and rucksacks and heading for the 6.30 boat to Rhodes. (Or else just mad about exercise, or in training for an assault on Everest.)

Pass the museum, work still underway, up through Triada square to the top road where the sound of cicadas is nearly deafening. Down to the main road and across to the cemetery – two rubbish collection trucks are about to meet up at the parking area next door where the small one unloads into the large one who then heads back up to the dump to do his business. Pass the madly barking dog at the gates and head out onto the track. Wonder about the gate: often open when I pass, should I close it and risk inconveniencing someone who may have just popped through to collect something from his shed or field? Should I follow the country code and close it like I would if it had already been closed? Thoughts evaporate as I negotiate the goat poo and start up the hill.

Soon ignoring the squish of goat poo under trainer and wondering if it’s the humidity that is making the scenery so silver this morning. Wave at the kids, a large herd, tribe or trip of young goats, and carry on up the hill, oddly enjoying the country smell of the stuff I am now treading in as I forget to look where I am going. The smell reminds me of my youth on the marsh… The sun is not yet up but the horizon is misty and pink and the sea lies as flat as an anti-God joke at a prayer meeting. Wondering where that came from I head up the next part of the hill, swigging from the water bottle and wondering if the cicadas ever get sore patches.

Reach the monastery, touch the gates (a tradition) swig water, stretch and start on down again, past the cicadas, the goats, the kids, the poo, the tree showing its roots, notice the sun is nearly with us, the sky is redder now, back to the now closed gate and the sound of a generator churning behind the barking dog as his owner does something with a barrel under a bush. Don’t stop to investigate, close gate, pass cemetery, smell of frankincense, and get back to road, carry on back up the hill, pass more noisy insects to the top road, see that the sun has now appeared huge and red, and the see the village streetlights turn off.

Back down through the village, no one around yet, apart from those still celebrating the new day at the Jean and Tonic bar, the bakers still baking, Lefteris watering plants and Nikitas opening the kiosk. Crossing the square I can hear the Panagia Skiadeni heading out, assuming the fit family made it, and back to the house where Neil is just up and the cat is already flat out and fanning himself with a delicate cat fan from Andalucía. Shower, and to work by seven. And the photos today were taken as I was working at the desk and so are rather boring but show you some boat activity on the bad-joke flat calm sea. And I made up the bit about the cat’s fan. It’s actually from 島牧村 (Shimamaki, Japan), he picked it up there last time he visited.

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