Birds on the wire
Wednesday morning was a sad day in the village as many of us attended the funeral for Ged, who died last weekend. It was a stately service in a church filled with friends and family. It was presided over by five of the island’s priests and was a sombre and moving ceremony of the kind the Orthodox church is known for. Goodbyes were said under a hundred lights and candles and amid a thousand tears. However, a celebration of life was also held in the square afterwards with his photos and favourite music allowing us all to reflect and be thankful for, and joyous in, the time we had to share with him in our individual ways.
Thursday dawned with a sense of carrying on as before, as these days-after often do to those not so directly involved. We saw the day boats come in at their usual time, though there has been discussion of strikes by some of the seamen’s unions which may affect our Friday Blue Star. On Wednesday we had the fast, though small-ish, Paros coming in and out with the punctual preciseness of a (mainland) European train. I am hoping, for my own selfish reasons, there is no strike next Friday when I am due to set off to Tilos. Time, and the newspapers, will tell.
While enjoying the sun on our balcony recently we have been admiring some of our feathered neighbours. These include a pair of collared doves that I’ve called Mr and Mrs Patterson. Why? Because I remember we had some white doves when I was little and they were called Mr and Mrs Patterson after, I believe, the people my parents bought them from. I am sure Mother will correct me if that is wrong. Our pair are often together on the telegraph pole right outside the balcony and yesterday I noticed Mr P was doing some kind of mating dance and getting a bit frisky. He was approaching Mrs P (I assume, they do all look very similar), getting closer and closer up the phone cable and bowing as he went. He eventually went for an all out airstrike but was shown the metaphorical door.
We also have this chap, I’m not sure of his name, it could be Martin, or Johnathon (Swift) but I think he’s a swallow still waiting for the right thermals to take him off to southern climes, if that’s where they go. He’s very friendly and sits for ages only a few feet away preening and trying to get his hair in order. He often has bad hair days but sits and chats to us while he is sorting it out.
As you may have noticed, it’s Friday today and that means almost a weekend again. We are out tonight for dinner with some friends, one of whom is leaving soon, after being here a month; how the time flies. I have nothing planned for Saturday, apart from some college work. In my latest assignment, to write two openings and two closing scenes for the same story in a script or screenplay, I was awarded a 17 out of 20, which was rather thrilling. Neil has just sent off his first IGCE assignment and had his feedback and score within a few days. I was alerted to this early on Thursday morning by a ‘When Harry Met Sally’ type scenario from the other room; ‘Yes! Yes! Yes!’ And thrice yes! He got 95 out or 100, which is brilliant.
And now it’s on to his round two and my assignment seven, and I have only a few more weeks in which to complete four more, and the last part is to write a 15-minute film script (or play). Not something I usually do, but it’s going to be well-worth getting my head around.