Set the alarm for 03.15 and head to bed at nine. Wake up at 1.45 to do one of those nighttime visits in the cold. Back to bed. Alarm at 03.15 met by groans and, ‘Gotta get on with it.’ Kettle, tea, check Marinetrafic.com and boat looks to be on time as it’s just coming into Tilos. Second cup of tea. Pack a bag. (Phone charger, battery thing, spare t-shirt for when sweaty after walking, jacket as it’s still pitch black and cold out, previous test results, a book to read, spare jumper, a banana you know you’ll never eat…) Try to find trainers not worn since last October. Under bed. Found. Check everything is unplugged and off, windows shut, towels down against any rain, take the rubbish to the bin, and off down the hill at 04.30.

A gentle walk down the slope interrupted by a message that the boat will be an hour late. Could go to the port’s café and sit among the early morning smell of coffee, toast and cigarettes, but wander on to stand by the water and wait, and watch the night turn to morning, and chat to people and… 06.05, boat arrives. It’s the ‘Paros’, because the ‘Patmos’ is being valeted back in Piraeus.

On boat, coffee, watch sun come up, photograph the clouds (Neil. The photos will be along one day), gentle crossing, gradual walk off as we’re in no hurry, and off around the seafront and through the Old Town to find breakfast. Settle on Koukos because it’s about the only place open, and go for a Greek salad omelette. It’s like a pizza, but the base is a plain omelette. There’s no tomato sauce, but there are fresh tomatoes, and the cheese is feta, and there are a few olives (strong), some peppers and chips. (Chips? A bit Spanish, but, whatever.) I manage 90%, Neil only about 50% because it’s so filling. And upwards and onwards. I shan’t bore you longer. This was really just to show you the moon yesterday morning. The cardio test was routine, and no issues. Neil invested in a shirt from Zara, while I only went on to see what shade of grey was in this season (for men, it seems the choice is grey, darker grey, black, cream, or grey).

The highlight of the day, a quick lunch with Harry who finishes his first exams this week, while starting on his college-placement summer job at Kolymbia (Rhodes) as a head waiter in a massive all-in gulag along the Gulag Archipelago coast of that part of the island.

The boat arrived back at Symi only a little late, and we began the trudge up, until Neil caught site of a neighbour from near the Rainbow, and blagged us a lift up the hill. Result.

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Thank you everyone who sent birthday wishes. I’m sorry I didn’t do individual replies, but I notice the trend these days is to put up a social media post the day after and collectively thank everyone, so that’s what I shall do. I had an idea to take you through my yesterday, which began at 05.20, as it often does, and ended at around 23.00, as it often doesn’t.

I’m up long enough to make a cup of tea and sidle straight into the office to deal with emails (for emails read spam), and am in the throes of that when husband awakes, checks on the tea situation, and changes the ritual morning dialogue by beginning with birthday wishes. These are then followed by the more traditional: Sleep well? Yes, you? Yes. (Few minutes off to let tea/coffee do its thing.) Any plans for the day? (Plans explained.) You? (Me.) Not a lot… And so the day begins.

Neil has much to do in the kitchen, and I leave him to it, and try to sell books for an hour. Then, a morning pottering around the house, trying to look useful while hoping not to be asked to help. There had been a concern that we’d have no water, Wednesday being both intake day and a bank holiday, so I go and check the tank only to find it full. The water elves have been at work when we were not looking, and we are very grateful. The main reason for joy is the fact we can have showers, and don’t have to wait until Friday to be clean. Some washing can also be done, and I can do that odd job I’ve been thinking of doing since Monday, scrubbing the bathroom floor. Meanwhile, Neil has drawn up a shopping list, and we head off to Sotiris for supplies. This is the usual case of searching around for what’s fresh and/or on the shelves, plus a few of those things you only buy now and then, but when you do… Shopping bill rages and knocks out most of the remaining spending money for the month, and there’s nothing untoward in the basket; no costly bottles of booze or anything, though I did buy a bag of frankincense for €7.00, which was an extravagance, and the price of butter these days…. OMG. I’ve moved onto Vitam or Bitam, or Βιτάμ, to be accurate. Cheaper and less cholesterol.

On which note, at some point during the morning, while also starting on the plotting for my series finale, I receive an email from the pulmonologist Neil saw in Rhodes last week, who also kindly said he would check my annual X-ray. Both good on all counts, which is good to know, and no need for me to go and see him. Later in the day, I get a phone call from our health insurance lady, who has set up the cardio checkups for Monday, so we’ll be on the 05.00 boat on Monday morning. Eek. Meanwhile, there’s much activity in the kitchen, and in the planning room where a timetable is drawn up, and supplies are checked. That done, I stay on the sofa with a puzzle or two while Neil clatters and creates.

Later, in the afternoon, Jenine arrives and joins the kitchen madness with gusto and much laughter. Something to do with egg wash and breadcrumbs being applied to chicken Kiev without having taken the clingfilm off them first. I don’t know, but I was called in to catch the laugher after the punchline, and witness the carnage. Only Neil could use every bowl and implement in the house to produce a red pepper soup, chicken, potatoes and veg. As it happened, the air frier chose yesterday to stop working, so the roasted carrots didn’t roast, and he forgot to boil the potatoes until we’d sat down, but the bread was fab, and so was everything else when it came, and that included Sam, currently hovering between winter and summer jobs. The house suddenly feels smaller with a six-foot-four godson in it.

The other one joins us by video from Rhodes where he has exams next week. He starts his summer work soon after at a massive gulag down the coast in Rhodes, where we think he’s to be a head waiter, but no-one seems sure yet. There’s much hilarity when the older brother decides to put the younger one in the fridge, from where he continues to chat away from his console in Rhodes, while we head into the sitting room to watch a film. In this case, it’s ‘The Importance of Being Earnest’ from the National Theatre, and although I’m not a great Wilde fan, I enjoy the production, and chocolate cake, some ice cream, a Nexium antiacid tablet, some Maalox and water before bed, because I don’t want to have a reflux night. Surprisingly, I don’t, and here I am, rambling away, and happy to be here and getting on with another day. Again, I probably shan’t be here on Monday, so I’ll be back, all being well, on Tuesday.

Thank you again for messages, posts, cards, emails and the birthday wishes. Later today, once I have scrubbed the kitchen floor, I shall start reading my new biography of John Steinbeck.

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A brief post today with a couple of recent photos, which clearly have the Neil touch.

I have decided on the name of the autobiography I am never going to write, ‘Almost, but not Quite.’ I’ve always thought this sums up most of many people’s lives, and it can be said about times in mine when I’ve almost got there, but didn’t. I am thinking about, say, that job promotion which I went for three times and was told ‘Almost, but not quite’ until I finally got it. Then, there was the time I entered a musical for the Vivian Ellis Prize, where the judges were big names in musical theatre, and, although shortlisted, it ultimately didn’t win (though Sir Tim Rice did jot a note in the margin, ‘There is some incredible talent here.’ Thanks, Tim). There was another time when the theatre in Brighton entered another of my shows, ‘Risk’, into the Arts Council of England Drama Awards, and it was nominated for 11 out of 13 categories, and won none (because it was a musical drama and everything else was a play). They did give us a special award for creativity because they felt sorry for us, I guess.

I’m sure I could think of others, but… Oh, there was one that happened last week. You know how I’ve mentioned spam promoters of late? The new AI-driven drivel from desperadoes hoping to make a quick buck by doing nothing, and who have no idea about books or publishing at all? Well, I received a genuine one last week, from HarperCollins. More importantly, from someone in an editorial leadership role, and more importantly still, it was genuine. She was interested in ‘Bobby’ and whether I was planning to write any more similar biographies, and what else was I up to? Could I send a sample etc.

So, I contacted her (having had my spies make sure this was genuine and not someone using HarperCollins’ name – and yes, very genuine). We had a quick exchange of very pleasant and helpful emails. I told her what I am doing, and she put me in touch with an agent – I thanked her, and her last contact was along the lines of, ‘good luck, and I hope to hear from you again when you have representation.’ So… I contacted the agent using this person’s name as advised, and saying what she told me to say (honestly, she is/was so helpful and encouraging), and the agent wrote back asking for the standard submission of the work I want them to consider and a usual covering letter. Anyway… So I’ve done that, though I don’t have anything for them to consider because I am finishing a series of self-published books, which won’t be of interest to them because they are not new. I sent them one so they could see what I can do. Anyway, another of those feelings of ‘almost but not quite,’ and here’s a goat.

I’m more than happy not going down that ‘traditional’ route with all its restrictions and having to speak to people and stuff. So, I shall potter on with what I enjoy doing and leave it at that (unless the agent gets back to me, of course). What I can say, though, is that I have reached the year of my birth (1963 without the 19), and that is a definite, not an ‘almost, but not quite.’

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It was Fanarakia last night. The festival of little lanterns is celebrated every year on March 24th, the eve of the Annunciation of the Virgin Mary. Today is an important day in the Greek calendar, being both the Anunciation and Independence Day. There will be a parade later, special church services and so on, and a bank holiday for shops and services that take such holidays. I’ve seen some great short videos of last night on Symi TV, and on their Facebook page. As always, they are well worth a look.

As for us? We were at home watching the National Theatre at Home, and the production of Inter Alia with Rosamund Pike. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but it’s one of those performances that leaves the jaw dropped. Well worth the subscription fee on its own, and we’ve got The Importance of Being Ernest tomorrow night. I also started on Macbeth, but had to go to bed before the murders started… Oh no. Tell a lie. I think Ralph Fiennes had just gone running to Indira Varma with blood all over him after doing in Duncan. Then I had to go to bed as it was gone ten.

We ‘did’ Macbeth for O Level English back in 1978/79 along with Arthur Miller’s The Crucible, and Dickens’ Great Expectations.* I have to say, I was fine with the plays, and I used to enjoy reading them aloud in class. I was particularly fond of my John Proctor, such as it was at 16, “Because it is my name! Because I cannot have another in my life!” I hope I wasn’t too over the top. I don’t think I was, and my classmate, Madeline, was just as dramatic with her Elizabeth. In fact, at one point, our English teacher suggested we put on a play ourselves (the school had a large stage and a certain amount of theatre stuff; not exactly ‘Glee’ but good enough). We put our heads together and thought of what would be a good vehicle for a few friends and us – nothing too big, because the head of music put on a musical once a year, using as many kids as he could scrape off the playground benches, usually girls. He once did The Wizard of Oz with over 300 children in it. Blimey. Anyway, his wife, the head of English, suggested we find something and do a basic staged version of it. Anything we thought might be suitable… perhaps something safe like Billy Liar (too big a cast), or the 39 Steps for all the slapstick and adventure. Hmm… We thought about it and came back with ‘Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf,’ because Madelaine wanted to walk on stage, stare at the headmaster in the audience and say, ‘Jesus…What a dump.’ I was quite keen to deliver some of Richard Burton’s lines, particularly the nasty ones and the one where he talks about Martha’s great t*ts. Not because I was interested in them or anything, I just wanted to smoke and swear on stage. We never did it. Not allowed. So we wrote and put on a review instead, and that was so satirical, we made a short paragraph in the Sun. (Another story. Another day.)

How on earth I got to that from where I started today, I have no idea. What that has to do with the photos, I also have no idea. It’s just what comes out of my head first thing in the morning.

* I think I read a couple of chapters of this doorstopper of a novel, but luckily, the 1946 David Lean film version with John Mills was on TV the night before, so I watched that, and got an A in the exam.

SymiTV Facebook page here.

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Actually, we had a good time, and plan to walk everywhere when in Rhodes anyway, unless the weather is terrible, in which case we’ll splash out on a cab. There were no cabs yesterday (strike), the weather was fine, the people at the clinic were friendly and helpful, and we were in and out before you could say ‘annual checkup.’ After that, we wandered over to the other side of the Old Town for another visit, and while Neil was doing that, I sat in the sun and ‘chillaxed’. As we’d splashed out on a hotel, we’d not had to get up at 03.30 to get the 050.00 boat, but we’d not had breakfast (not allowed before tests), and didn’t eat until later, but when we did, we stopped at the Yacht Club place in Mandraki, and treated ourselves to a cheeseburger (my first in I don’t know how many years). And then, back to the boat, back to home, and the grand finale, the walk up from the harbour to the village.

So, a quiet day. We had to pick up some other bits and pieces which, unlike the medical checkups, cost money, but… has to be done. Meanwhile, there had/have been all kinds of doctors on Symi for three days giving free consultations. (The last I heard on Sunday, they were on their way, but I don’t know if they got here. I hope so.)

Now, we’re back from our day trip, Neil has a new hat (very natty), and my mind is back on the day-to-day for now, but we’ll be off on another of these thrilling day-out adventures soon, and the next time, it will be the full cardio checkup. Yahoo!

While I get my head back into gear, he’s a photo of the sea yesterday in Mandraki, to contrast with the picture above.

As you can see, a quiet, calm day. The day boats are lined up along the quay and ready for business, Nimmos Taverna in the Old Town opens very soon, and there was a huge cruise ship in, so the tourist shops are up and running. Apparently, had you been on the ‘Celebrity Infinity’ last night, you could have attended ‘the History of the Blues’ starting at 10 pm in the theatre, so a loud passenger on a nearby table told the table six tables away from us when we were resting at ‘Mike’s in the Old Town. Phew, if I were going to miss any show, it would be a night of blues music, on a ship, in the middle of the night.

Anyway, must catch up with things. Have a good day.

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