Sorry I’m a bit late, I was scrolling through the Symi Dream Facebook page and clicking off all the adverts so I could find a relevant post. Apparently, I won’t see Mother Goose & Grimm for 30 days now, whoever they are, ditto things called Faith Panda, Pirates Look at 40, Life in Georgia, and 101 other pages, and I have no idea why they are there. Adverts too, but at least they are vaguely understandable, much as we all hate them. I just saw one which, ironically enough, said, ‘Soon, we will have to watch an advert before we switch on our phones,’ and that seems to be about the way of it. Too much ‘all about making money’ and not enough turning the thing off and enjoying views such as…

I just carried on scrolling while I thought of what else to post, and came across a page called Benidorm and Beyond which conjures up a whole nightmare scenario of whatever could be beyond the excesses we imagine Benidorm to offer. (I’m sure it’s lovely and ‘authentic’ really.) After about ten minutes of the advert clearing, I finally came to a page I’d approved, a Greek newspaper site, to discover Princess Anne was in Crete the other day for a commemoration, and two Greek girls have come first in a European money quiz. Then, there was another one with a video showing me how to make Traditional Sarakatsani pie, which looks far too ambitious for me (apparently, you need a huge table in the middle of a village square, two ancient yiayias and a bathtub), but at least it’s about Greece. Talking of which…

Enough whining for now, there’s a weekend to look forward to, for those who have weekends. For us, we have a little entertaining planned for this evening and nothing much else. It still feels like we’re in some kind of in-between state and waiting for a great invasion of visitors as we normally see around the beginning of June, although there are people here, and more than enough day boats still visiting. The news is finally saying that ferry prices will soon rise, so that is something to keep an eye on if you’re travelling, and we know that prices for power and provisions are rising, so we’ve got to keep an eye on them too. But while it all carries on around us, we’ll get on with things the best we can, and at least we can still have some things for free, such as this:

On which happy note, I must be off and do some publicity, because, thanks to Amazon’s decision about the old Kindle platform going obsolete or whatever it is, page reads under Kindle Unlimited have taken a nosedive off the edge of a cliff. I expect there are as many unhappy authors out there as there are unhappy Kindle users. But let’s end the week on a controversial statement: in my opinion, Georgio & Maria Taverna in the village serve the best chips on the island. There you go, that’s positive, and as you can see, I’ve run out of anything useful to say, so I’m off into chapter 32.

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Neil has been giving me so many wonderful photos to use, it’s sometimes hard to know what to post. This one, for example, shows how the greenery of April is already fading on parts of the hillside, and the ground has the colour of late summer about it. That might be because it was taken early in the morning.

This one was taken at dawn in Pedi a couple of weeks ago…

And this one, only yesterday.

Already the sun has that height of summer colour to it, yet yesterday we were in hoodies again as there was a cool north westerly blowing. So far this month, we’ve been told that we’ve had the coldest May Day recorded in Greece, and that we can expect excessive heat in July (no change there). Meanwhile, I get messages from England asking if our ferries have stopped running yet, and if we can still afford to eat. The answer to both is ‘no’, but we manage. It’s like some people who are fed by the more sensationalist and nationalist newspapers are wringing their hands in gleeful anticipation of everywhere else being crippled by having no oil, high prices and the rest. As if they are not.

I counted seven day boats yesterday, and I didn’t see all of them. The ones I did see were just about full, which is not bad for early season, so I assume someone can still afford the prices, and they haven’t gone through the roof. I’m not sure what taxi boats are charging here this year, nor the other excursions, but I believe the bus is still only 2.50 (which, let’s face it, is only a €2.00 increase in over 20 years), and last time I used it, Shank’s pony was still free.

Here’s another of Neil’s photos. This one shows the new ramp at Pedi. It doesn’t show the Portaloo/sauna box/Tardis, which has caused some ruffled crepe de chine in certain areas, but you can discover that for yourself, and join the controversy if you like.

The sun’s just about to rise, and I am 120,000 words into a first draft which is careering in a semi-controlled manner towards the crisis point of the story, and I am currently down a disused mine in Derbyshire. It’s based very loosely on the Magpie Mine near Sheldon, and I chose that because it was built in the design of a Cornish tin mine, and fitted my bill. So, that’s where I am heading today (at no expense) as soon as I have posted this.

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It’s one of those starts to the day. Then again, it often is these days.
Up and up my desk by 5.15, and the first thing to greet me is an email which starts like this:

You were born in a blizzard on the south coast of England.

I knew it was going to be a spam thing because it came from a Gmail account, and I’ve been getting at least three or four a day, sometimes five. This one, though, started like a random demand, or blackmail, or even creepier, like it was saying, I know what you did last summer.

I ignored it, of course, as I did with the one from BBC Radio 2. Actually, I’ll share the start of that one with you, too.

My name is Nancy Davis, and I work with the programming team at BBC Radio 2, a nationally recognized (sic) Hot Adult Contemporary station.

I know I’ve not listened to Radio 2, probably ever, but I do know several people who do, and they don’t strike me as the types who would enjoy Hot Adult Contemporary anything. The steamiest they get is listening to Elaine Paige on a Sunday evening.

And so, the battle with the spammers continues. When I am in the mood, I write back and say something like, ‘Contact my agent,’ and leave it at that. I have done some testing, and I wrote back once saying something like, ‘I don’t pay to give interviews,’ as that’s what they wanted. Someone or an autoboot (sic) got back to me gushing with enthusiasm about how they were about to promote me to 96 misguided Mormons in Kentucky, and it would only cost me $160. Actually, they put the sum in words as if that made it any better.

Anyway, sorry, a photo…

Our odd weather: cloud yesterday, but not cold. I’m currently in the stage of ‘hoodie on, hoodie off’, long trousers or shorts? Shorts for ten minutes, and then change… It’s all a bit up and down, but set to go up again and stay up, no doubt.

In other not much news, I know some or maybe all of the taxi boats are running, most if not all tavernas and shops are open, but I’m not sure of the beaches. I think Apostolis at Pedi mentioned the end of the month. It feels to me like it should be June already because Easter now seems like months ago. There is usually a lull between Easter and the season, but it depends when the celebration falls. This year it was early, so it feels like ages ago, but maybe it’s simply just less busy this year. What with the weather patterns ruined and nutters trying to rule the world, it’s surprising anyone’s able to go anywhere at all. On which cheery note, I must get on and reply to my contact at the BBC commissioning department. You never know, they might want me on the Hot Adult edition of the Antiques Roadshow.

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I just started writing something to clear the sleep from my head, and realised, after 300 words, that it was for my other blog, not for this one, so here I am, starting again, with no particular thought in my head. Sorry about that.
I had a glance at the headlines to see if anything grabbed, and saw we are in for warmer weather very soon, as a cold front is doing something over the Atlantic and another front is doing something else elsewhere, and there’s nothing I can do about either, so I turned the page and discovered that ‘They’ are expecting more extreme heat in Europe this year, forest fires, the usual doom and gloom. Nothing I can do about that, either. And onwards, to see that everyone is predicting the UK will again become the yUK at the next general election as a new ‘political’ party is expected to take over, but there’s nothing I can do about that, so why bother? (Which is kind of what’s caused that country to get not the state it’s in. That “Doesn’t matter if you vote or not, a government will get in” kind of attitude.) There’s also news about what Greece is up to, but I can’t do anything about that, as I can’t vote in Europe anymore, not even for the mayoral elections here, which must be coming up soon (next year?). I can’t remember, because there’s nothing I can do about them anyway. So, what can I do? Enjoy the views, I guess.

I can also mark myself safe from any spider invasion last night, though I was uncomfortably aware that at any moment I could see that dark dash to a shadowy corner… I didn’t. Phew. In fact, there was really nothing of great import that occurred yesterday, not to me, at least. I heard the ambulance siren at one point, soon followed by the air sea rescue helicopter coming in, which is always a worrying combination. We often hear the chopper coming over and practising its manoeuvres, but when it is combined with an on-land siren, you suspect it’s not a drill. I hope everything was alright for whoever might have needed the service.

It’s one of the oft-asked questions around here: ‘What are the medical services like?’ By which people often mean, ‘How do I get to hospital if I need an ambulance?’ Well, dear, it depends on how ill you are, but the bottom line is that you don’t need to worry, because you’ll get there. Under your own steam if you can, by boat if it’s urgent but not that urgent, and by air lift if the medical teams here deem that necessary. In which case, I think the whole thing takes around 20 minutes, but I am not totally sure. Let’s say it is as fast as it can be, and my advice is, make sure you have insurance. Greek National Insurance, or something private, or even only holiday, but as long as it covers such costs, you’ve got nothing to worry about, apart from whatever is causing you to call for a medivac. And I have no idea how I got onto this, so I’d better go before I bore you into an emergency situation. Oh, too late.

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Thank you, yes, I had a very pleasant weekend. It ended a bit farcically last night, but we’ll get to that.

The chatter over the weekend was about the new ramps that can take wheelchair users and those who’d otherwise have trouble getting into the sea, into the sea. There’s one at Pedi and one at Yala (on the way to Nimborio). I believe this is a council initiative, and I assume they will be taken down at the end of the season. I only say that because, sometimes after a winter storm, there’s no sign of the road at Pedi, let alone anything that might have been on the beach. It’s a great idea; let’s hope they are well used.

The photos I have today, of course, have nothing to do with that, mainly because I am not a roving reporter. They are pictures of Kirtos Beach (locally known as Nos, or the town beach), and they are here as a calming measure.

You see, apart from the arrival of tea bag rescue parcels (thank you, Mike and thank you, Graham!), another 16 spam emails from idiots hoping I’m also an idiot and will sign up for spurious book-promoting services, writing three chapters (draft one), and going out for dinner with friends at Georgio’s last night, there was the bug incident.

We were back from the dinner, and had put on a film to talk through (for some reason, Evita), and around nine-fifteen, we were just off to bed, when something scuttled from the corner of my eye and vanished under the opposite sofa. ‘It’s a roach,’ I declared. ‘You go to bed, I’ll sort it out.’ We were only on the What’s New, Buenos Aires number when I returned with my trusty can of quick death, lifted the cover to spray beneath the sofa, and was met by a full-grown, grey and black Symi spider. Eek! I am proud to say, I didn’t leap onto a chair in my wrinkly tights and call, ‘Thomas! Thomas!’ in the manner of the maid from Tom and Jerry, though I did call the husband from where he was getting into bed, because I am not trained to handle such beasts, and he is. Neil is one of those superheroes who can pick them up and take them up the lane to be rehomed. Only, this one was an agile little (huge) so-and-so, and evasive. A grapple ensued, the thing stuck him either with a fang or one of those multi-purpose, Swiss Army flick knives they carry, so he (Neil) called for his own equipment: a tea towel. On rushing back to the scene, I discovered the infiltrator had managed to get itself behind my old trunk, so we had to move that out of the way. It’s an LV, made roughly around 1912 – 1920, and, luckily, the wheels still work, so it was a quick reveal, followed by a tussle with a tea towel, and Neil telling me to pen the door, which I couldn’t get to because he was on his hands and knees across the doorway, and Jimmy Nail is singing On this Night of a Thousand Stars (reprise) and it’s so bad it’s good, but the background music should have been more Keystone Cops, but what can you do? Finally, the thing was captured and safely wrapped in a tea towel, and Neil escorted it from the premises.

However, on his return, he discovered the towel was empty, but he hadn’t seen the thing fall to the ground outside. We’re standing there, looking at the floor, listening to Colonel Peron being seduced in five-four time, when Neil realises the spider is on his head, and enjoying a verse of I’d be Surprisingly Good for You. Well, clearly, the best-dressed man is not wearing Arachnia this season, and he calmly brushed it to the floor, ironically, to the exact spot I had first seen it, and… Another tussle, and another capture in another hall, and this time, the invading force was successfully and humanely removed from the theatre of conflict. I didn’t sleep well, and this morning, I still have this feeling I am being watched, and something is sitting on my head humming Don’t Cry for Me, Marj and Tina.

A few more shots of Kirtos beach to calm us down.

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