It’s coming to that time of year when those who have jobs set up for the summer season start to think, ‘Only a few more weeks to go. What happened to winter?’ It’s funny how that happens, isn’t it? When you’re little, even a day and a night (such as Christmas Eve) can feel like a week, and yet, times like the old six-week summer holidays of youth in the rural 1970s used to last forever. Until the last couple of weeks, when time whizzed by as you crammed six-weeks’ worth of homework into two tedious afternoons.

The same goes for trips abroad. Like our trip over Christmas. It took a year to plan, save and pay for, and during the first week, time was endless, but during the second, it was, ‘Where did that go?’ And we hardly stopped moving and doing things, so no moment of any day was wasted.

The road around Yialos is like it too. It seems to have been up and under repair for an age, and yet, today, as if it never happened, it is open again. (At least, I read a prediction, so it is hoped it will reopen again today.) The works were hampered by bad weather, but it’s now been so dry that we need to water the plants for the first time in ages.

(I nicked this image from David, who posted it in a Symi group last night. He’s coming for dinner on Saturday, so I will ask permission then.)

It’s time to start putting names on the calendar: Who says they are coming this year, and when we can expect them. The Bother-in-law has already booked his place on the sofa bed for a few nights, and other friends are also due to return to the island. I’ve been reading potential visitors’ questions on social media and have seen many saying they are looking forward to coming. The businesses are starting to put things back together gradually – there’s no rush just yet – and soon, people will be doing up their properties ready for Easter. It’s all starting to roll back towards the summer season, but you have to wonder what kind of season it will be, what with everything going on in the world. I’m not going to go on about all that because there is nothing I can do about any of it except hope. So, I shall carry on regardless, as the film title said, and hope for the best.

Here, instead, is a photo of the new step-free arrangement that’s been built alongside the Kali Strata ready for the summer visitors.

No, silly. It’s a ramp put in by builders who have been doing something to a property near us on and off for the last year or so. We are now quite used to the trundle of the transporter machine that passes and shaves the corner off the house now and then, and neatly stacks its rubble and whatnot along the lane.

Yes, preparations for summer are underway, and as if to back up the statement, we didn’t have to turn any heaters on yesterday, not until eight in the evening.

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Thought I’d start the week with some interesting information about a thing we see around here in the spring. I expect most readers will know what it is when they see it, but I’d not seen such a thing until I moved here, so here it is, and it has nothing to do with tourists or spiders. Phew.

You see them hanging in the Cyprus trees up the lane, and elsewhere, and each one is a tent for a Western Tent Caterpillar (Malacosoma californicum). However, we can’t have those in Greece because of the illegal tariff set on them by the USA (note: californi in the Latin name; the ones pictured are native to the country of the orange dictator), we have our own version in Greece, and apparently, they are pine processionary caterpillars (Thaumetopoea pityocampa).

I am just stepping aside to examine the Latin name of that last one… Pityocampa. I looked it up and discovered that Pity O’Campa is currently appearing at the Royal Vauxhall Tavern on a Saturday night doing drag bingo.

However, our local pine processionary caterpillars, whose incubation nest we were just looking at, will soon be appearing out and about, crossing the road and moving around the neighbourhood in procession, because that is what they do. A word of warning, though, and this is lifted directly from an online search:

Extremely dangerous to humans and pets due to toxic, urticating* hairs that cause severe rashes, allergic reactions, and are potentially fatal to dogs if ingested.

On the lighter side, can you identify what this is?

I know it’s part of a plant, but what plant? I only ask because I am waiting for the kettle to boil, and want something to do.

And here’s another ‘What is it?’ Only, this time, I can tell you, it is the work progressing on our water treatment plant at ‘Council Corner’ on the main road. When completed, I am told, it will look like all Symi buildings must (apart from the power station and police station), and stand at the entrance to the harbour like a neoclassical house that has stood there for 100 years. Or it might look like a sewage works.

Let’s hope it’s the former.

*  Urticating refers to substances or structures that cause itching, stinging, or inflammation. (I had to look it up. I never knew!)

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Yesterday, I was working on organising our annual health MOTs, merrily trying to arrange the first major appointments for the 25th, forgetting that it is a National Holiday (Independence Day), so I’m having to start again this morning – hey ho! Old age, probably. Better get that checked out, too.

There’s no need to worry, we do this every year and have done so for about the last nine or ten years. At the momen,t I am under a private health insurance plan, and must be for another four years, or for as long as I can afford it. I am also insured under the Greek national health system via Neil’s contributions, but that only covers me for as long as he stays employed by someone else, and as that’s never 100% guaranteed, I need my private insurance as a fall-back. This is in case he should ever be unable to work or unable to find a job during the next four years. In other words, if I don’t send the husband out into the rice fields or down the tin mine for at least the next four years, my national entitlement stops, and without the private policy, I might not be covered. I’m too far into it and too far along the road to stop the private one now and try to get back to it later if needed. I’d lose my equivalent of a no-claims bonus, I guess.

Anyway, as part of my policy, we get a whole set of tests done for a pre-paid, set price, and it includes the services of our insurance lady, who will make the arrangements for us, and/or help me set everything up, so, bearing in mind yesterday’s confusion, I may just ask her to take over. Might be safer, eh? Besides that, with nothing of any consequence to report, I have an end-of-the-week gallery for you, with five recent photos and five older ones mixed together. The older five were taken at various times of the year, though I think most are at least a couple of years old. Have a good weekend.

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That’ll teach me to have an early(ish) night. Up at 4.30 as bright as a brass button that fell off a garment 60 years ago and has lain beneath a floorboard ever since. First things first, of course, and a cup of tea. Thanks to generous donations last year, I had enough ‘proper’ tea to last me until Bucharest at New Year, and now I’m back to the breakfast tea, which, this season, surprised me, because it is stronger than before. We have also moved on in the kettle department. Our last kettle was a poor pourer, and when you poured, so did it, in the cup and on the worksurface alike. It also had an unreliable lid, which didn’t always remain closed, thus the thing would keep boiling until turned off manually. This was the same maladjusted behaviour as shown by the kettle before that, which was the same make and model, because we never learn, and the only way to prevent the lid from popping up was to weigh it down with a statue of Hercules and Diomedes having a wrestle.

I have no idea why I told you that, but here’s a recent photo of the Pedi valley by way of compensation.

Meanwhile, the days pass in winter-to-spring mode, because it’s a little warmer and drier now than it was in January and February. Workmen and craftsmen are back building and renovating houses. Others are employed in fixing the road, and other municipal enterprises, and the all-year cafes and tavernas are still going. We walked past the International the other day and smelt the cooking. We’d have stopped in for lunch had it not been 9.30 in the morning. We’re thinking about starting to consider spring cleaning the house, but there may yet be more rain, so we will probably wait, or else find another excuse to do it another day. We’re also starting to sort out our annual health MOT as we get each year under our health insurance. If all goes to plan, we’ll spend a day in Rhodes doing some basic tests, and then arrange the consultants, hopefully for the following week, and do them all on the same day or stay over for a night and make it a Club Med(ical) holiday. ‘Another month’ was Yiannis’ line to Neil yesterday, so he’ll be back at work before we know it, and I have my office shutters open for the first time in weeks. Spring is looking up.

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There was great excitement in the house yesterday, because I actually left it and walked down to Yialos. I’ve been bent over the typowriter for the past couple of weeks, and haven’t put my head above the parapet much, but yesterday, I made an exception. A power cut was due at eight, which came along, leaving me to work only by the light of the PC screen and as I can’t type coherently in daylight and what with shutters closed against the cold, and no power… The only thing to do on these occasions is to get on with the housework, without water unless previously saved in a bucket, or to sit and read. There is the allure of the phone-scroll to avoid, if possible, the sweeping to do, tidying the cupboard, throwing things away, sorting out the courtyard, reading some more, doing a puzzle, talking to each other, cleaning the windows, whatever. You know, it’s hard to get by without power, because there’s nothing to do. Except take a walk to Yialos.

It was a beautifully clear and calm day, I didn’t need a coat or jacket, and there was a delivery to pick up from the post office, so off we went at about half eight or just after, took a stroll past the DEH guys working around telegraph poles at the top of the Kali Strata, and wandered down. And around to the large supermarket we always call ‘Sam’s Supermarket’ because he used to work there – we said hello to him with a wave because he is currently helping out at a waterfront café. From there, to the backstreets of Yialos to buy vegetables, because decent stuff is becoming rarer in the village this winter, thence to the post office for a warm greeting and a delivery, and on to Pacho’s to see if I could find George, the water controller, but he wasn’t there. A hello to the dentist taking his coffee at the herb shop, and a pop into the pharmacy to collect something for a tickly cough, and to receive a wedding invitation for June, as you do… We’ve known the family some time, and always ask the daughter (the pharmacist) how her parents and brother are doing, and all are doing well, thank you, and George is getting married in May at Panormitis, and we shall receive an invitation. Blimey. Last time I looked, he was still at school and being rebellious, and now…

Tempus fugit, and it continued [to] fugere as we negotiated the roadworks towards the new carpark, which was the taxi rank and quayside, the bus stop and beyond (there’s no traffic into the harbour from beyond the taxi rank at the moment, bikes can use the back streets and cut-through), and found Konstantinos and his mates already at work, so we took a taxi back up. We arrived home discussing how to get a, b, and c done in the dark, when the lights came back on. The power cut ended early for us, and its timing couldn’t have been better. I still didn’t get any typo work done, but that is this morning’s task.

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