Sunday morning this ‘n’ that
Warning! This post contains a graphic image.
I was sitting at my desk on Sunday morning, trying to think of something interesting to write about, when it started raining. It was a warm morning and so I thought I would open up my shutters for the first time in days and see what was happening with the view. I found this:
Which just goes to show, it’s always worth opening your eyes even in bad weather. I nipped up onto the roof in my slippers and in only three layers and took a couple more shots from the roof. I say only three layers (t-shirt, thin jumper, sweatshirt, as recently I’ve been wearing four, including a woollen jumper over the top of everything else and then adding the fifth layer, a blanket, when watching television in the evenings. It was much warmer on Sunday than it had been of late. The weather is now set for cloudy, wet and warm (15 or 16) through the week ahead. But, back to the things of interest.
Cigarette packets. Even here in Greece ‘they’ (whoever the ubiquitous ‘they’ are) are putting images on cigarette packets, to deter smokers from buying them I guess. This is a bit naughty (what I am about to write, not the habit of putting shocking images on packets), but I can’t help feeling that if one collected enough of these things, one could start a game of trumps.
“I have ‘Grieving family’ and I play that against your ‘Tracheotomy.'”
“Ah-ha!” the opponent plays a triumphant hand. “I trump you with my ‘Smoking baby.’ See, it has a cigarette instead of a dummy.”
Player one considers this and decides he has the ultimate hand. He lays down the image below… “And I trump all with this image of Nigel Farage.”
And there was great rejoicing throughout the land.
I shall say no more on that subject, either Trump or Farage, suffice to say, one can always wishfully think.
I had to get that piece of satire out of my system. Please do excuse me. Normal service is now being resumed.
Irish passport? Well, the news on that front is that there is a new application form on its way back. Apparently (and this will be of interest to anyone else in the locale who is considering a new Irish passport application), the KEP office at the town hall are not included in the list of approved signatures on the application. It must be an accountant (who ran screaming when we asked him to witness and sign), a doctor, a chandler, candlestick maker or a chocolate beer specialist – or something. We’re assuming that everything else is okay, as the email from the very helpful lady in Athens didn’t suggest anything else was amiss and so, when it arrives, it will take a few minutes to fill it out and then Neil will take a trip to the doctor, or whoever else is on the list and have it witnessed again (I am sure it said something about council officials/local authority officers; perhaps this is different because this is a first-time application). Should only hold up the process by a week or so, now Christmas is over, and there’s no great rush.
And, by the way, there is such a job as a chocolate beer specialist. I found an image of one, a man named Jim Koch. If you ask me, he has the best job in the world, and a pretty fab name as well. I think I am going to be him.
My Sunday morning ramble is in danger or rambling over the hills and far away, in search of the rainbow perhaps, so I will close and head off into the week. A week that, so far, has not very much in the diary. The usual typing, aerobics for Neil, I must go down to the bank and apply pressure to the ATM to squeeze out the rent, I have ‘The Saddling’ draft five to re-check, I am hopping my ‘How to play the concertina’ book arrives and I can start on that, some singing practice (not for me, I just tinkle the plastics (no ivory on my piano, note)), perhaps a walk with new camera – and thank you for all the nice comments about my photos these days – and dinner at the taverna tonight as a treat. I’ll let you get on now and I really do apologise for the image of Farage in a hospital bed. Or do I?
