Here’s a short tale of Monday that involves HMV, the helipad, crochet and moussaka, with a few illustrations from the day itself.
It started off a few days ago when Neil saw an old gramophone he liked the look off and negotiated a price with Natasha at the new Art Gallery under the old nautical museum. We decided to pick it up yesterday as we had arranged to meet Trevor and Gloria, visiting from Rhodes – nice to meet you! (Note to self: send Gloria the Symi Animal Welfare contact email as she was crocheting seats for chairs and wanted to send some over for sale or auction to raise money for SAW.)
So, setting off later morning, under the cautious eye of the AC we headed down, via the compulsory Hellooo at the Olive Tree, and met said Rhodians for a drink at Pacho’s. Then to the antique shop to collect the gramophone. And to buy whatever 78s were also available – Turandot, some German Lieder and something by an as yet unknown (to me) composer. Oh, yes and a table for the thing to stand on, and the piece of marble to go on top of the table, and maybe we can come back with a taxi and pick them up after lunch? Yes we can, and so we did.
Lunch – as by now it was too late to get home, eat and get to work, uh hu – was taken at To Spitiko where one of the homemade dailies was vegetarian moussaka, which Neil had. I went for the meaty option which was just as tasty.
And then back to the Gallery in a taxi. We’re just putting the various parts into the car, the turntable, the table, the records, the marble slab and the horn, or whatever it’s called, when we’re asked if we mind taking a detour so we can drop of a lady at the helipad. Why not? Never been up there before. So off we head up the slope towards the cometary and then right past the farm and on and round and through the scrubland to a couple of houses I never knew existed.
Said lady dropped off and very grateful, it’s back down to Yialos, around and up the slope to Horio. Much attention is attracted from the lunchtime diners at Georgio’s, as Neil carries the (light) turntable and 78s and I struggle under the (heavy) marble slab, table and bell-end, or whatever it’s called. ‘Mobile disco!’ someone calls out and Neil stops for an involved chat about his purchase. ‘Yeah, I’ll just hang around with the lump pf marble then,’ I mumble. Marble-mumble I suppose. ‘Just have to show this to Jenine…’ So carry Marble slab towards Olive Tree. Luckily the ladies are outside and can admire the table and the trumpet, or whatever it’s called, from there.
Struggle home with the thing and put it together and give it a play. There’s a need to adjust the playing speed, which can be done, as Nessun Dorma is apparently being sung by a chipmunk on acid. Good sound though and in fully working order, and we were even given free styluses as spares, and a piece of Chopin which played like chopsticks. So, that’s now taken up residence in the sitting room.
Neil went to work, I stayed home, wrote a bit, made dinner and watched the air ambulance do its Monday night practice landings back over there on the helipad – which is what this is meant to be, but clearly isn’t, a very good shot of.
The gramophone is a ‘His Master’s Voice Sound Boy’ and I’ve not yet managed to date it, but could possibly be 1940s, any experts viewing this – feel free to drop me a line, out of interest.
