This is a bit unusual, but a Sunday morning blog post is being written on a Saturday night, and uploaded, ready to go live… well, by the time you read it. ‘Cos if it weren’t live you wouldn’t be able to see it would ya? (Have been writing ‘in character’ this morning and am still in ‘Stag’ mode. All will be explained in time.)
So, here I am, it’s just gone nine on Saturday night in Tilos and, from what I have seen so far, it’s lights out at 10.30 on this island and no talking! So I best get a move on. I just left a wonderful taverna (‘Nikos’ – Trip Adviser review coming up) and came ‘home’ (‘Apollo Studios’ – another Trip Advisor review to be done) by way of something like 50 meters, to write this before sitting on my little balcony and reading a bit of James Herbert before heading for bed. The plan being to rise early tomorrow and walk fast up that hill to work off tonight’s dinner.
But, the Tilos tale so far: I left Symi on Friday night on the Blue Star which was traditionally behind schedule, but then, so would I be if I’d come from Athens to Kastalorizo and back. After a Dolphin Pizza and an Elpida wine I got on the boat and spent a pleasant two ouzos crossing to Tilos. There was some poor deranged person reading ‘The Judas Inheritance’ in the bar, but I let him be. Nothing worse than an author coming up to you and saying ‘I wrote that,’ when you’re trying to understand a tricky story. Turned out that the owner of my hotel here on Tilos was also on the boat so we rendezvoused at departures and he, Andreas, and his partner Irina, drove me back to the hotel with a bunch of beer boxes, provisions and eggs. (Friday is a long day for Tilos folk going to Rhodes, longer if the boat is delayed, even longer when you have to deal with an English author at gone midnight, I suspect.)
I settled into my apartment sometime after one in the morning, had a nightcap and the packed lunch Neil that had provided (a packet of cheese and onion), and then crashed into bed. Only to be woken a few hours later by one of those cramps that has you jumping around the room like a Dufflepud from ‘The Voyage of the Dawn Treader.’ A couple of hours later I was surprisingly wide awake, and ready for the day ahead. This day, Saturday, had been planned as a day off, to recover from the trip and have a look around. I’d done all that by 10.00 so I set about a few thousand words for the book – which is what I am here for, and hence the ‘Stag’ speech above; Stag is one of the characters in the new book, btw.
That done, I was then planning a sandwich and a kip (both of which I had) and then some more writing, but Andreas, the owner – remember? – invited me out on a drive to the monastery of Agios Panteleimon, at the far side of the island, to collect some spring water and, well, away we went, with Irina, and with Melissa who happened to be passing as we were getting into the van – Melissa is a singer/songwriter with a band based in London, her singing partner was born on the Romney Marshes, as was I, so talk about… whatever it is you talk about when coincidences happen on small islands.
Anyway – a drive across the island and a guided tour from Andreas, who reminds me very much of Takis (Symi leather shop) combined with any stand-up comedian worth his salt, and there we were at a stunning monastery in a stunning location, all wrapped up as a fortification. We were even shown, on one of the more precipitous parts of the journey, the tragic spot where a couple, blinded by the sun, carried on in a straight line instead of following the road, thereby buying a one way ticket to Paradise. Will filled our bottles (I would have lit several candles for the return trip but the chapel was closed) and headed back with a fresh spring water in our step, enough to last for the next few days.
That done, and the idea of any more writing now out of my head until I’d eaten, I then went down to the square, 30 yards away, for a pre-dinner drink. Here I was treated to either a large group from SAGA (bless ‘em) or the local ex-pat over 60 club discussing Stavros’ new baby and Dinos’ new grandson, what ‘she’ did last Sunday and how ‘he’ asked for a small boy rather than a cucumber and ‘wasn’t that the funniest thing?’ (and a little risqué) and where I also bumped into the Greek (Athenian, I think) family who have a holiday home next to the old Symi Dream shop, on holiday with their two children – and isn’t it a small world? Coincidence number two of the day.
Dinner: Feta (and herbs) stuffed into a green pepper, homemade bread, half a litre of red, + pork in a pot with potatoes and veg and three cheeses, at ‘Nikos’ taverna, €17.75 and the bread I didn’t eat is now wrapped in foil ready for my breakfast.
Sometime tomorrow I will update you on Sunday’s activities. The plan is to get up early, walk up that hill for an unnecessary length of time, come back, shower, eat Nikos’ left over bread and settle down to 6,000 words of writing before lunch. We shall see! (P.S. Excuse any typos, I don’t usually write at night and, tbf, I don’t really care.)
More photos and news tomorrow.
