Sun and spiders
The predicted heatwave arrived with a vengeance, and over the weekend we had out hottest May day for the last 50 years or something. It coincided with the reopening of beaches (under very strict rules), allowing some people to go to the beach for the first time in years. I’m not talking about me, me and lying on a beach or floundering in the sea don’t go together, but I was talking to a friend of ours who would usually be working by now. He was, he said, for the first time in five years able to spend a summer day on the beach, and making the most of having no work to go to, he and some friends spent a whole weekend at St Emilianos, something they’ve not been able to do for many years, not in good weather at least. So, although he’s got no income, he like many others is making the most of the weather while he can.
Bars and cafes are, apparently, reopening soon, again under strict conditions, and Neil’s been asked if he will go back to his afternoon shift when the Rainbow starts up again. It’s a bit of a double-edged sword as a) the job pays his health insurance, but b) he will eventually come into contact with people from off the island, and who knows what they might bring with them? But then measures have been announced regarding travelling by ferry which include a medical self-declaration, a screening before you board, masks, limited numbers of passengers, distancing and so on, but as we know, nothing is foolproof. I think a lot of the islands, and other places, although welcoming visitors back, will be wary of anyone who has not been isolated on the same island, at least to start with.
The hot weather has also brought out the spiders. There we were watching the box on Thursday night when a quick movement to the left caught my eye. Then it stopped, and I assumed it was a shadow, but then it started again and ran under where I had my feet up. A few expletives from me, even Neil jumped when he saw it coming for him, and it hid under the sofa. Neil, bless him, is unfazed by these things and fetched a plastic carton to trap it in (101 uses of the plastics Sotiris puts your ham and cheese in). Ten minutes of searching under sofas and moving furniture ensued. For Neil, that is, not for me, I was standing on the other sofa with my skirts hitched shouting ‘Thomas! Thomas!’ like the maid from Tom and Jerry. Eventually, it was decreed that the thing had vanished, and TV watching continued. All was going well until I noticed Neil silently reaching for his plastic box and surreptitiously leaning towards the balcony doors with intent. I didn’t need to ask and hoped I wouldn’t be dragged in, but the thing went behind the cabinet that’s heavy with folders so I had to help move that – in my bare feet, I might add (such a hero). Finally, Neil caught the beast in a tea towel and put it outside, as if there was nothing wrong with having a three-inch-long spider in your hand, and we settled down to watch the rest of ‘Hard Rain’ or whatever the other thriller of the night was.
There was a sequel, but I’ll tell you about that tomorrow, and I’m not talking about the film.