The Day in the Life of a Symi Resident (with random photos to take your mind from the dreariness of my day).
Yesterday, I managed to get around to doing one of those odd jobs that have been waiting months to be done and yet takes very little time to do, so that was something of a triumph. It was the turn of the balcony floor which has been in need of a new coat of varnish for some time. I wanted to get it done before the next rain comes, and over a week ago, went to the extraordinary lengths of buying a can of varnish and a brush. Having had that on display for a few days, I decided yesterday was the day, and taking my courage in both hands, set about the quest.
Firstly, to sweep the balcony. This involved finding the broom (a surprisingly easy task), and then finding the alternative head with the stiffer bristles; not so easy a task, but I located it beneath the husband’s fins, mask and snorkel, and set about giving the woodwork a stiff telling off. After that, and seeing to some rougher parts with a piece of sandpaper just to teach it a lesson, I thought I should give it a mop. Found the bucket, simple, but then had to track down the bit that attaches so you can squeeze out the mop, which I’ve not used in months. Not because we don’t mop, we are, in fact, a two-mop household and I regularly see to the occasional floor as part of my mid-summer celebration, but these days, I use an alternative, more planet-sustaining method of floor cleaning. I attach a cloth to the Swifter and do the floors with that. Not only does this mean there’s no need to buy disposable, wet and smelly Swifter wipes, but it also means I have a flat-head mop in the good-old-days fashion, and not the straggly bits of a string or cloth that, frankly, seems to achieve nothing. While I was waiting for the balcony to dry, I also had a go at the kitchen floor. Yes, I was that fired up.
Wood dry and gleaming with cleanliness, there then followed the old screwdriver and paint pot lid removal exercise, and after that came the real work. The hands and knees method for a few seconds, followed by a classic older person’s grunt during a change of position; the half-bent back approach which can only be held for 90 seconds before permanent paralysis occurs; the semi-crouch and crab-attack stance was good for another square meter, and then a tea break. Not quite, but might as well have been. Back to the task, carried out without the use of a safety net or dignity, a pause to nod to a couple of passing and bewildered tourists below, and all the time talking to the floorboards for no discernible reason other than a way of keeping sanity, and finally – ’twas done. ’Twas brillig actually. I.e. it was “four o’clock in the afternoon, the time when you begin broiling things for dinner.” Which is the meaning of brillig, according to sources. It was, actually four, but the only thing broiling was me.
Another coat is due on Thursday if I have enough varnish left. The poor old woodwork was so parched it drank nearly the whole can. Being a wise virgin I had bought water-based varnish which may or may not be any good, but at least it was easy to wash out of the brush, and that done, I was able to rejoice in success and take the rest of the day off.
Of course, I’d already done six hours at the typowriter, made lunch, been for a walk, seen to my admin, and read two chapters of a biography of Marie Lloyd. (Real name Matilda Alice Victoria Wood, did you know? Made me wonder…) A quick ice tea at the Rainbow, back home, a salad for tea followed by most of a film, before Neil had to go back to work as he’s currently doing evenings at the Rainbow as well as the siesta shift because it has been so busy, and with no time for a siesta of my own, off to bed at nine.
Now, how’s that for an exciting day in the life of a Symi resident?
