What can I tell you today? Yesterday started well with the main water being turned on and filling the tank from 04.00 in the morning. The valves you see around the village attached to the black pipes are opened manually, so either the conscientious operative did it on the way home from a concert or a late night, or gets up and goes to work as early as I do. Either way, the trickle and drip is always a welcome sound. The pressure is also better at that time of day because, I guess, other properties haven’t opened their sterna intakes because, like most sensible people, they are asleep, so we get a head start. Our tank was full by eight, ready for a day’s battering from the four people who now have to share it.

That seen to, and after knocking out a draft chapter, we headed down so I could continue upgrading my teeth, and Neil could search out gifts for the grandchildren for when he sees them in November.

Now there’s a thing. What to buy? What’s a classic Greek souvenir that you can only find here, has been made here, says ‘Greece’ and sparks in the young person an interest in another country? There are plenty of choices. For example, a bottle opener in the shape of a phallus. A mug bearing the face of a surprised donkey. A plate in the ancient style, mass-produced in Asia. A bottle of wine with ‘Malaka’ on the label (for the grown-up children, and it’s actually a very nice wine), and other such ‘must-haves’ are to be found everywhere. There are, of course, the slightly less low end of the market trinkets, including evil eye keyrings, colourful pottery and similar things produced mainly overseas. Then, there’s the top end (which wouldn’t be suitable for the grandchildren yet), such as the pottery and jewellery you can find in the more specialised shops in Yialos. So, the world is your oyster when it comes to taking special gifts back to young people. So far, they have a tin of baklava each, and we’re still scratching our heads.

Anyway, the harbour was busy, but we were out before the great twelve-to-two rush. Constantinos, who drove us up, tells me that’s the worst time of the day for foot traffic, the taxis and the bus. The Sebeco comes in on the south side, the red trainer ‘boot’ boats too, and the larger ships dock in the Petalo port. They all bear passengers who want to get into town, with most walking on the road because they’ve never seen a road before, and others cramming around the six-foot-wide piece of harbour front as they trudge along like refugees from a sunbed encampment. Between twelve and two is the time not to be driving around the harbour, yet people must. I am glad I don’t have to; I wouldn’t have the patience.

What else? Er…The temperature seems to have been a pretty regular 37° in the shade in our courtyard for the past month at least, occasionally only getting to 35° now and then – and that’s a lot cooler than usual for this time of year. The humidity has been reasonably bearable too, and the promised Meltemi hasn’t yet made itself known to any extent at all. When that blows in August, it’s usually like sitting in front of a hairdryer, but I’ve not noticed that yet.

And so on into the rest of the week ahead.

We’ve had concerts, dance shows, a play, and all manner of festival entertainment going on, and it continues. If you want to see the programme, click this link to see the PDF. Scroll down it for the English translation. This week, there are four more concerts and a dance performance, all in the main square in Yialos.

What other news do I have after a quiet weekend…? Another tooth situation successfully resolved, and a checkup this morning… Quiet afternoons in the square when I go for coffee; everyone’s at the beach or having a siesta, and it is August, which always sees quiet afternoons up here; evenings are probably a different matter. The water supply was open again at 04.00 this morning; not complaining, even with a larger tank, keen washing lady below almost drained it over two days. Still waiting for a new and hopefully quieter water pump to arrive so we don’t have to close all doors and windows when her downstairs is at her taps. Er… Spectacular sunrises seen at Pedi…

As for me, another chapter or two done in draft for a thing I am working on. Research about blacksmithing read, though there’s too much info to remember, I’m absorbing the background of the craft and some terms. Supermarket supplies continue to be up and down. I.e., this week, no suitable shampoo or deodorant available, but loads of fresh veg (though how long it stays fresh for in this heat is another matter, and as most is untainted by preservation chemicals, you have to pick your moment). Sunrise, although I can’t directly see it, is also spectacular from my window.

And finally, Cyryl… (Who remembers that, Eh? Only my generation and older British, I bet.)
Finally, I can report that a breakaway tourist group made it to the village and were discovered attempting to march on Pedi, when they were discovered on the Pedi road where they had attracted the attention of locals who had come, I hope, to remove that pile of stuff and take it up to the tip.

It’s the end of the week, which means not much to me other than it’s another day. I don’t suppose weekends mean much to those who work 18 hours a day, seven days a week through the summer either. No clocking off early, no POETS day, down the pub early, ‘See you on Monday’ kind of hurried office departure, or anything like that. Simply another day at work. For those on holiday, another day of sun, sea and other things beginning with S, such as souvlaki, sunbeds, sensational views, safe swimming, spectacle and Symi. The Festival concerts and events continued last night with a concert in the main square, a brief blackout during the tech rehearsal, and then, I hope, a great time had by all.

You may wonder what those who work every day through the summer season do for holidays. You can’t book two weeks off between May and October if those are the months you make your yearly income, and as for going away to lie on a beach and read a book, why do that somewhere else if you can do it at home in your lunch break? (What lunch break?) Many people take their holidays in the winter months, as we did last Christmas, and unless you can afford to travel far south for sun, sea and S things, then it’s a case of staying at home or exploring Europe. For those who reside in Greece and pay tax here through the Taxisnet system, the good news is that you can now claim up to €600 in digital accommodation vouchers. In other words, the government are offering residents ‘free money’ to put towards their holidays, and to encourage out-of-season travel. The report I tried to read stated: The programme is designed to make holidays within Greece more affordable for Greek households while encouraging travel outside the peak summer season. Applications close at 11.59 pm on Friday, 21 August 2026.

I have to say, I started to read the report in Greek City Times, but even though I am eligible to apply for the scheme, I got lost among the details. It’s unlikely I’ll be applying for a €300 low-season travel voucher (as a ‘general applicant’, retired, non-disabled, no-children, married person), and I am not sure how many nights €300 would buy me these days. About two hours in some accommodation on Symi (the end of the market that’s so high, it would cost me two months’ pension just to stay for a week), or maybe five nights in other places. It might replace the money spent on getting to Athens and back by boat (though not with a cabin, perhaps), and I could easily get through that amount during a weekend in Rhodes or elsewhere, where a dinner for two can range from between €10.00 if you only have a giros each, to well over €100.00 if you go posh.

Still, it’s a great scheme, and if you want to read all the details and pick your way through all the possibilities of how to claim according to the various conditions, you can read the full article (in English) at Greek City Times.  

I can’t help thinking that, with people unable to afford electricity and basic needs for families, this money might have been aimed at something more practical. It’s as if the thing that matters most to humans these days is a good holiday – tourism rules, got to get your Insta-pout photos in. ‘We’re giving you up to €600, but you have to spend it on leisure, not feeding the family…’ Then again, there is talk of a general election early next year

For me? No plans to travel anywhere until next spring. Last New Year’s Day, somewhere between Bucharest and Athens at 30,000 feet, we won two free flights on Aegean Airways. We’ve used one of these for Neil to go and see his various generations in November, but although the flights are free, the cost of accommodation, travel and subsistence prohibits me from going too. I might have a couple of days in Rhodes instead, so maybe I will apply for the travel voucher after all. Anyway, have a good weekend, or enjoy your next two-day shift at work, whichever.

Yesterday, I mentioned the Symi Dream calendar for next year, and that it was now available to order online (only). I’ll be coming back to this subject nearer Christmas, but there’s another new Symi-based artistic creation to consider in the meantime. I’ve not read this, but I read the first book by this author, ‘Heaven.’  Both are set partly on an imaginary island that takes little imagination to see it’s Symi under another name.

Many novels written with Symi as a background focus on the landscapes and delights, the romantic walks through ‘valleys of fertile green’, and along sandy beaches that don’t exist, and tbh, several I’ve read focus more on the way they are written than what they are written about. Some are just dreadful. I once read a Mills & Boon set on the island, and all I can say about that is, Eek! I also read a big fat published novel riding along on the coattails of ‘The Da Vinci Code’ when every other book was about Knights Templar and conspiracies, lost scrolls and mysterious clues, and this one ended up with the hero and villain fighting atop Symi’s Kastro, chasing each other to the cliffs of St George ‘nearby’, and there was someone walking along ‘The sandy beaches of Marathunda.’ Anyone who knows that beach knows you will find no sand, only pebbles, sunbeds and goats. (And a great taverna.)

Anyway, there’s a new book out that’s different because it sugarcoats nothing, and although it’s not about Symi as such, parts of it are set on an imaginary island under a different name, and it’s clear we’re talking about here. It’s talking more about the characters, and one man’s life in particular, and part of that includes ‘Symi.’

The author has also written and published a set of short stories set on the island, and I believe this edition is to be reprinted later this year. I thought you might want to check them both out. As far as I know, the new one is available on Amazon, Kindle, paperback and in Kindle Unlimited, though I am not sure of the status of the first one, ‘Heaven,’ so you might need to search around. (Note: looks to be unavailable right now.)

Here are the links to Amazon.com (which may tell you the book you want is not available; if it does, it’s because you need to go to your nearest Amazon store, I.e. Amazon.co.uk, or Germany, France, Canada, etc. Anyway, if you are interested, you can head off and check out the blurbs and see what you think. (Other books about/with Symi are available. Just because I mention something here doesn’t mean you are going to like it. The value of shares can go down as well as up. Please get an adult to help you and use only rounded-ended scissors. Terms and conditions apply.)

‘Heaven’ by Ann Butler Rowlands (currently being reprinted, but you might find it on eBay.)

‘The Sailors, Their Bears, and the Left-handed Women’ also by Ann Butler Rowlands.

First, though, here’s a first. It’s 03.30 in the morning — that’s not the ‘first’, it’s been that time before — and I am taking my cup of tea into my room to start the day (also not a first), and I hear a noise in the courtyard. I investigate. This involves standing in the porch listening, turning on a light to hear better (odd how that helps), and then working out that the sound is running water. The sound of the water pump has become a constant since the lad moved in downstairs with his mother. Either he or she has a thing for washing, or simply running the taps from eight am to eight pm with only a few breaks in between; Valantis should be fitting us a newer and quieter water pump sometime soon, but that’s another story. The sound I heard was that of the mains water filling the tank.
‘Yeah, so?’
The thing is, for that mains water to be running means that someone has turned on one of the locked stop cocks along the mains system. That’s usually only done around 7.30 in the morning and left on until the early afternoon or sooner if the reservoir is low. I’m not complaining, not when the mad water usage from the flat below averages around 300 litres per day by my reckoning. (We use roughly 100 a day between the two of us.) What it all means is that whoever now turns on the mains for our area of the village was up and about and at work at three-thirty in the morning; far beyond the call of duty. Thank you; a little intriguing good news before I even reached the desk.

Now I have, though, I can tell you about yesterday. I managed to get some work done on the new first draft before setting off down the steps to collect something from the courier, pick up some post from the post office, and head to the dentist, only to discover we’d mixed up the days, and I was expected on Thursday, not Tuesday. Didn’t matter; I had other things to do, and, as it transpired, I still need another couple of days of tablets to take away the nasty that is not completely gone yet before drilling can commence, so after a few desultory photos to fill these pages, I treated myself to a taxi back up the hill.

You might remember the other day, when trying to escape the midmorning harbour crush, the taxi was unable to get through the throng, so we had to wait? We were slightly earlier this time, but still, a day trip boot had just arrived – one of the noisy red ones that looks like a mid-cut trainer (sneaker if in the USA), and the road was thronged with wobbly-legged tourists just off the thing, which is essentially a speedboat with an inflated sense of self. There were plenty of raspberry ripple legs and torsos, Instagram pouts and hoisted sarongs on show. Other more intimate places were exposed to catch even more rays, and wide eyes were everywhere but on the oncoming traffic. We passed through the first wave without injury to sunburn or sedan, passed the several cars, large minibuses and small coaches waiting around the bus stop, avoided the tour parties jostling for position in the shade, the port police directing traffic, the mopeds weaving through whatever obstacles no matter what, and the growing queue of those waiting to board the soon to arrive Sebeco, the on coming traffic, and the dodgy parker who’d ‘only stopping for a second,’ and waited behind mopeds whose drivers had also stopped for a quick chat, and finally, emerged beyond the slope, ready to hit second gear.

Not to be. The incoming traffic was held up by the outgoing traffic plus newly arrived white-and-pinks from the Panagia, traipsing round the six-foot wide section of road squeezed between building and sea, but we inched forward, breathing in at times, laughing about some joke or other, until finally, finally, having passed the second traffic control officer and the last day trip stragglers who still had half a mile to walk, we found the freedom of the open road. Which smelt slightly of sewage, because, let’s face it, the harbour in August with an additional few thousand water users pouring in every day… Well, our drainage system isn’t exactly in the first flush of its youth. According to yesterday’s driver, the treatment plant is finished, but when it will be up and running is another matter. Meanwhile, that familiar aroma remains at certain times of the day. Anyway… I made it back up to the peace and quiet of the village for a large breath of fresh air, and was welcomed home by the water pump screaming because something downstairs needed washing for a fifth time that morning, and took the rest of the day off.

The Symi survival lesson for today? Avoid the harbour during day-trip hours, and make sure you write down the correct day for your appointments.