Monday morning walk. After getting some jobs done around the house and a bit of work at the desk, I headed out to get some jobs done out and about.
First stop, the hardware store in the village, passing, en route, two tourists heading towards the museum, or at least following the signs. I was so gobsmacked to see tourists (you can tell them from the outfits) that I didn’t tell them it wasn’t open. Anyway, they looked like they needed the exercise. But the hardware store excursion: This was the one near the doctor’s surgery that you could easily pass by without noticing. In fact I’ve done that once before. Now I know where it is though, I’ve become a regular. Inside you find there are aisles and all the products are laid out in neat rows so you can see what there is. This saves you the embarrassment of asking for a length of small pigmy when in fact you only wanted a hosepipe. It also prevents any misunderstanding when dealing with plumbing, ballcocks in particular, and makes things a lot more comfortable for everyone concerned.
I was looking for ‘ose. What? Rubber ‘ose? ‘No, Os, letter Os, for the gate… Yeah, yeah, I know. Fork ‘andles. What’s that? Four candles. No, no, no, fork ‘andles, ‘andles for the garden fork. And so on. (See, ‘The Two Ronnies’ hardware store sketch.) I was actually looking for a length of hose to connect the trap thingy under the sinks to the overflow widget. The current ones are both cracked and if too much water goes down the sink in one go it backs up and starts to flow the wrong way, i.e. into the cupboard and out onto the floor. I saw something that looked suspiciously like what I’d measured (with my thumb) but decided it was best to leave it to an expert as it means taking the whole gadget apart, and I may not get it back together again if I did that.
So, declining the kind offer of help, saying I was only looking, which I was, and then heading out of the door (being given two complementary cigarette lighters for my trouble) I headed off to the supermarket. George was having a quiet morning. There was no sign of the guys carrying boxes around, no piles of incontinence pads on the wall waiting for homes, no determined old ladies piling up shopping on the counter and then heading off more things and piling them up on top, no one getting their aggouri mixed up with their neighbour’s kolokithi, none of this accidental swapping of pantoploion that can cause so much hilarity and riot. In fact it was very quiet. I added to the lack of rush by only needing to buy six waters, a yoghurt and a red washing up bowl.
And then, after dropping them home, it was my turn to play the part of Sir Henry Norris, Groom of the Stool, and clear out Sir’s litter tray. That done, I headed off down the Kali Strata to collect a new bag of the stuff and headed straight for the pet shop. (Just up the steps past the Kalodoukas office, bottom of the Kali Strata, by the carpenter’s, opposite Freddie’s Chrysalis shop…You’ll find it.) There I had a chat with (excuse me, embarrassed, can someone drop me the name?) the ‘pet shop boy’ about cats and how he came by his collection – strays born in the ruin opposite attracted to the shop by the birds he has there. And from there I proceeded to carry the five kilo bag of litter back up to home.
But I went a different route to the usual, as it was such a pleasant morning. Past the accountant’s office (keep your head down), and then first right and up, and along and towards, ‘Where does this go?’ and past, ‘Oh I know where I am now,’ and towards, ‘That looks interesting,’ taking shots of various things as I went. Having passed three chickens, several cats and a downhill tourist (camera, backpack, bewildered look and everything), I finally came out next to the large house next door to us and made it home only slightly humming.
And so, here we are, Tuesday morning, and I wonder what today will bring. More cat litter and privy chamber duties I have no doubt.
