Blow winds from the north
A strong wind from the north-west on Monday night/Tuesday has helped to cool things down a little. At least, that’s how it feels. We’re still in the high numbers, but not suffering as much as before. It’s good for cooling, but not so good if a fire starts somewhere. If you are out and about on Symi, or anywhere dry, in the summer, be wary of starting a fire accidentally. I have seen a fire truck here, but many places are inaccessible. Just a note.
My days are currently filled with writing, as you know, though I have been out and about when I can. The village square remains a favourite place to be for a couple of hours after work, and the lanes and hills a favourite place to be before the sunrise when it’s cool enough to walk. I sit here and watch the taxi boats coming in and out, and I have a hankering for a day at Nanou, where I have not been for money years. The trouble is, there’s always another chapter to write, another job to do at home, another part of a dance to learn, and I find it hard to drag myself away from the desk, especially when a story is flowing, as one is at the moment. Perhaps I should be stricter with myself and force myself down to the beach on a Sunday morning or something. Mind you, the last time I did that, I sat on a sunbed at 9.30 and didn’t wake up until it was lunchtime, when I had to get home. I can sleep here if I want to.
A cruise ship came in yesterday, as did the day boats and a morning catamaran bringing some visitors. Others are leaving today, and hopefully, more will be arriving later. Or, as they say over in Kent, ‘We’re in hopes that more will arrive.’ Or as they say in the darker parts, ‘We be in ’opes that more be ’riving afore long.’ I still can’t get this dialect out of me ’ead. My head, sorry. That’s what 7,000 words a day does for you.
So, a quick blog today and on to the next task. Sweeping up the dead vine leaves that have blown down overnight and that are now creeping their way into the house where they will fall apart, leaving us with a covering of brown bits to sweep up. Sweeping up into the wind. Now, there’s a lot of fun to be had there. Not. Maybe I will go and vacuum clean the courtyard instead.
