Well, I was going to share some photos of feasting, festivities and fun but for some reason, my photos haven’t uploaded to the place I usually find them, and I can’t get them off my phone and onto the laptop, so that will have to wait. Instead, I can tell you that, in our house, the past few days have been something of a festival of chocolate. I’m still finding it in the most unlikely places. Neil made some Easter eggs that wouldn’t come out of the moulds, so he made some Easter chocolate bombs, a cake, decorations and other things from half a hundred weight of the stuff, and the fridge is still rammed wit it.

This is one of the aftermaths (he didn’t stick that rabbit on it, someone else did that).

I made bread, which is what these two cake-like things are.

Over the weekend, from Friday until the stillness of Monday morning, there were church services, celebrations, solemn processions, bangers, fireworks, dynamite, dancing, you name it, it was a riot of sound and light. Apparently. We slept through the three nights of dynamite and majestic firework displays, being in bed by nine most nights. I know, I know…

However, we spent a glorious Easter Sunday with the family and friends feasting and laughing, and now we can settle into the season. As often happens when we have an early Easter, there may be a lull for a couple of weeks, but we have sailing boats coming in, the day trip boats are already doing a brisk trade, the Sebeco is running a few times a day, and the tavernas have been busy. It will be interesting to see how some businesses fare this year because, for the first time, everyone now has to clock in and clock out of work. This is, I assume, to protect worker’s rights and ensure people don’t end up doing what people have been doing for years and are still doing, which is working from nine in the morning until midnight without a break. How people who do flexible hours are supposed to manage is yet to be seen. I.e. those employed to meet guests from boats at all hours, or who only need to service properties for an hour here and there, rather than for eight hours a day in one block. We’ll have to wait and see.

Oh, I found this photograph of Limehouse, London taken in 1893, and it got transferred to the blog gallery by accident, so you may as well see it.

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I’m going to leave you until Tuesday, so here are a few photos to take you over the Easter weekend. Good Friday has started, as it always does, quietly, because no work is allowed (except at my desk where I have chapter eight to quietly type up). If I am awake for the celebrations over the next couple of nights, I will do my best to take some more photos for you, but I can’t promise. Happy Easter!

If you are looking for something to read this weekend, click here:

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It looks to be another warm and sunny day this Easter Thursday. In a rare moment of ‘could be bothered’, we called down to Yialos yesterday evening, so we were able to view the harbour in its own particular pre-sunset light. The buildings take on a warm glow at that time of day, and the hillside turns pink. The ferry came and went, as did the pedestrian traffic of locals and visitors alike. Later, after dinner in the village, we discovered that Neil might start his summer job today, or he might not, because we’re dealing with village life, so who knows, but we shall see.

Today, there’s not a lot planned on my side of the screen; some writing this morning, a piano lesson, maybe watching ‘Boiling Point’ with the shipbuilder now the ship has been launched, and an early night whether Neil is working or not. Tomorrow is Good Friday, as I am sure you know, and then we have the Easter Weekend, where the dynamite will go off, the fireworks will be lit, and that is on top of the church celebrations. We think the temporary garden shed in this photo has something to do with Easter Sunday, no-one down town was too sure.

Meanwhile, in the village square you can see nothing of any interest whatsoever.

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Everywhere is so green at the moment. There are poppies among the Marguerite daisies, the hillsides are covered with herbs and shrubs, and the valley if lush with grass. Yesterday, I put on a pair of shorts and went for a walk, so there was some white among the green. Eek. I also wrote more of my next story which is to be called ‘Holywell Street’, and if you want to know what that’s all about, take a look here.

Today, I am hoping a picture I ordered arrives. It’s only a digital file, but for some reason, it takes the London Archives five working days to find the file and email it. I don’t mind though, as it’s coming from the Museum of London, and I wouldn’t have found it anywhere else. It is a drawing of Holywell Street, London, in 1900, just before the street was knocked down to make way for Aldwych. The street, you see, is to play a major part in the next book, and it used to be known as ‘Booksellers’ Row.’ The nature of some of those books however…

Anyway, also today, I hope to be colecting a delivery from the courier in town, I aim to finish chapter seven of this said book (first draft), and I aim to enjoy the sunshine as much as possible, because it looks like it is here to stay, for a few weeks at least. In the meantime, enjoy the green!

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How about this for accidental timing? The Harland & Wolff Shipyard that has been our kitchen table for the last three months, finally closed last night after successful completion of the Titanic by a 17-year-old shipbuilder. This, quite by accident, coincided with the 113th anniversary of the ship’s accidental sinking on April 14th, 1912. (Struck on 14th, went under just inside the 15th.) Following the last of the fitting out, the ship was moved to its permanent home just off the Pedi road. If you were in the village yesterday at around five thirty you would have seen a small procession of shipbuilder and two godfathers carrying the two foot long replica to her resting place on a bedroom shelf, where, at night, the internal lights can be seen from afar.

And that is where that story ends.

Yesterday saw another accident. Well, more of a final and unexpected deterioration. Neil was cleaning the outside marble table with something called Alfa, when half of the tabletop fell away with no warning. I can only assume, ten years of being in direct sunlight did it. There were no cracks, nothing hit it, it just went. This is one of the original tables from Pat & Ali’s bar on the other side of the harbour which we bought when the bar closed x number of years ago, so it’s a bit of Symi history. We’ve turned it around, so the broken side is against the wall, and await the fate of the side that’s not yet broken off.

Meanwhile, Easter approaches, the bangers are already being thrown, the small, fizzling rockets are being launched, and more and more people are arriving for the festivities to come.

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