It’s that time of year. The time when we gradually start adjusting from summer to winter. I’ve heard people say there are only two seasons down here in the South Aegean, but I’m not so sure. Yesterday morning, the air smelt spring-fresh and warm, then later in the day, autumnal and humid. It was warm enough for short sleeves when out and about, but not warm enough to do without a blanket on the bed at night. Admittedly, it is warmer than usual for the end of October, then again, it can be this warm, just as it can also be cold and windy. One year, in early October, I was playing for a ceilidh (pronounced something like ‘kayley’, Irish round dances and quadrilles) at what’s now Scena. The party and musicians were outside, and I was in an overcoat, thick jumper and fingerless gloves.
While the weather is doing all that, the tamarisk tree next door is shedding its white stuff, leading to ‘Oh, my nose’ season within the house where the pair of us take it in turns to sneeze, sniff or generally grumble, ‘Oh, my nose’, and then ask each other to remind each other we said we’d remind each other to take an ant-allergy tablet. That done, I promptly fall asleep for two days, so I avoid them when I can. Yes, even the non-drowsy ones do it. Meanwhile, we gradually winter-proof the house; paint the flat roofs, prepare spare towels for the leaky windows, reluctantly turn on the hot water for 15 minutes a day, and dig out bags of winter clothes to replace the summer ones, putting them away to a safe place where they will remain lost for two years.
Part of the adjustment is also home time. This isn’t such a change for me as I work from home every day no matter the season, but now Neil has finished his summer job at the bar, his routine needs to adjust back to winter. For him, this means studying an online course, going to the gym, doing just about all of the housework while I hide in my study allegedly writing (but actually drinking Ovaltine and reading newspapers), and tapping his fingers through the afternoon because he’s not at work.
For some businesses, it means clearing away the tables and chairs, cleaning down kitchens and bars, packing things away and closing shops. For others, it’s business as usual because contrary to Facebook group know-it-alls who categorically state everything shuts and you can’t find a crust of bread for six months, core businesses remain open throughout the year. The island isn’t just here for the holidaymaker, not even if you come twice a year or used to travel with Laskarina. Supermarkets, grocers, DIY shops, clothes shops… Well, you don’t need me to tell you. It’s the same as where you live, I imagine.
And talking of the weather, as I wasn’t, yesterday was 28 degrees, I am told. There’s no or very little wind which helps keep the cold blasts away, and the sea was again dead calm. All very pretty, and quiet; even the day boats are not crammed with visitors at the moment. So, with that nonsense stated, I shall carry on carrying on with my usual routine – today to be upended later by a visit from the ‘family’ where Neil has promised Yorkshire puddings. Madness and mayhem around the kitchen table. Now, that’s what the winter season is all about.
