Here we are in Big Week, and suddenly, the village square is alive in the evening. Boys setting off bangers, people going to and from church, and both bars with tables outside and folks to sit at them. The weather might also have had something to do with it, because we were able to sit out last night until quite late, and we’ve not been able to do that for a while now. Here’s a shot Neil took yesterday or the day before. He used to do this kind of shot on a camera, now it’s on a phone, but a new one with a much better camera and more tech in it than sent the men to the moon, apparently.

I have two pieces of news to start this week, one of which I might have told you. I had an approach from a major publisher (HarperCollins) about ‘Bobby, a Life Worth Living,’ the biography of my godfather. Since then, I have been in touch with an agent they recommended, and they are willing to consider representing the book back to HC if I can produce a ‘fresh and expanded’ version. So, as well as starting the last book in my Victorian mystery series, and preparing the one before for release this week, I shall be starting on the biography. This means trying to find transcripts from 20 years ago, reading some more social background, and identifying existing parts that can be expanded, without losing the voice, which was what attracted HC in the first place. It’s flattering, if nothing else, though also somewhat strange, because I wrote the thing 20 years ago, before I started writing fiction, and my style, I thought, has improved so much since. As with all these things, it may well come to nothing, and even if it does, it won’t be overnight.

So from today, I will have to start being stricter with myself about the afternoons. Mornings? No trouble: get up, make a tea, go to work, but after lunch? Jigsaw, snooze, television. No more. Well, maybe starting tomorrow, because we were taken out for a drink or two last night, and although I only had a couple of ouzos and plenty of water, I’ve woken up feeling like it’s bedtime already, yet it’s only 6.20. Ah, well, perhaps I’ll have a siesta after breakfast.

Here’s a shot from the roof on Saturday morning. As you can see, it was still cloudy and wet then, but the week promises to be fine up until the weekend, when, once again, we may see the return of clouds and high winds.

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Here we are at the end of what turned out to be a wet week. A wet one, and for some, a red one. You may have seen photos of Crete and elsewhere under a cloud of Saharan dust. The news headlines last night were comparing it to Πλανήτης Άρης, Planet Mars.

Click here to see photos from Reuters via the Guardian.

It may look as though someone has applied a filter, but that’s how it looks sometimes. When the rain dried yesterday, our courtyard had become a dusty sandpit, and I’ll be out over the weekend to brush and wash it away. That is, if the overnight rain last night hasn’t washed it away already.

We also had the large cloud over us, but it was less visually apparent because of the rain, but you can still sometimes taste it, see it or feel it. If you want to see what lies in store, you can find a prediction showing a map overlay of dust, rain, wind etc., by subject, at: https://poseidon.hcmr.gr/

There, select weather from down the page, and then see which aspect of the weather you want to look at. Meanwhile, here’s a local cat.

I reckon some of our current visitors might have had something of a surprise welcome to the South Aegean in the last few days. Some planes were cancelled, the boats were going and then not going, and the weather was as unpredictable and unwelcome as an American “President.” We were in Georgio’s for dinner last night, as were a few visitors. Being still the off-season, the menu last night was, ‘What d’you want?’ What have you got? ‘Salad, tzatziki, chicken, soup.’ What soup? ‘Chickpea.’
I opted for the soup, which was/is a deep bowl of chickpeas in a very tasty broth. It went well after Neil’s homemade carrot and pepper soup we’d had at lunchtime, and my task this morning is to single-handedly restart the island’s defunct wind turbine. I foresee no problems.

Ah, here’s a Symi spring flower…

And so, to the weekend. What lies in store? Today, I aim to complete the final check of my next instalment in the Delamere Files before moving on to the final book in the series. I also have to produce my author’s newsletter, which will go out tomorrow, and tidy my office – and making up my mind when to do that could well take me all weekend. Apart from that, some piano, some writing, and some reading, I have also promised myself I will spend an hour or so finally tidying up the courtyard. Weather permitting. Everything else permitting, I shall be back on Monday, which will be the start of Great Week in Greece, the week leading up to Easter weekend. Actually, in Greece, the weekly calendar begins on a Sunday, and it’s Palm Sunday this weekend, so I guess Holy Week starts then. And I start now, by popping off to prepare my newsletter. If you want to know more about that, take a look here, and I’ll see you soon.

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We have a few drips in places we don’t usually get drips, and the porch is an inch under water with nowhere to drain off, but other than that, we’re still standing. It’s too dark to see what’s going on out there, but when I went to bed at 21.30 last night, the wind was still shaking the house, and the walls were vibrating. Apparently, we had a severe storm alert message at some point not long after, and it didn’t help when a stray alarm went off at 04.15 this morning, waking Neil who’d only had a few hours’ sleep. (I think it was a hangover alarm, left uncancelled since Monday. According to his phone, it’s been going off every morning since.) But we’re up and about, and I have a lot of reading to do today and some mopping up later, by the looks. We’re supposed to be helping a neighbour move a heavy plant or two later and going out for an early dinner, in which case, I shall be eating very little. Why?

Not that you need to know, but I had something of a sofa day yesterday, recovering from a nasty bout of reflux that made itself apparent at 1.00 the previous morning. This happens from time to time, and I do all I can to avoid it. A fun one is not eating too late at night, which is why if anyone invites us to dinner and says, ‘Come at eight-for-half-past,’ I stare at them as though they were mad, and say, ‘Can we make it more like six? I know, but there you are. (I’ve also got the relevant pills and ointments, tinctures and poultices for this reflux thing, so no need to send advice, medical aid or thoughts, thanks. It’s one of those things.) Anyway… The point is, I wasn’t up to doing anything much yesterday, except a jigsaw on my tablet, some reading, and watching a few things on TV, while listening to the wind and rain from behind closed shutters. It’s like I missed seeing a whole day pass by, but I did pop my head into the courtyard once or twice to make sure it was still there.

Now then, there is something serious to report, because we did have something of a sad evening the one before last. Back in 19… I forget, but about 28 years ago, Neil bought me a Thunderbirds figure/doll, dressed, movable, ages 5 to 13, as a Christmas present. A bit of a laugh, something daft, but mainly because I’ve been a Thunderbirds fan since year forever. When we moved to Greece, we took Alan with us. That’s his name, for those who aren’t au fait with the classic TV series made for children aged 5 to 50 and beyond. He even joined us on the beaches on holidays now and then, and he has a voice that, when the button is pressed, says, ‘F.A.B.’ and ‘Thunderbirds are go.’ Bless. Well, on Tuesday evening, I moved him and his companions (he’s built quite a following over the years), so they wouldn’t get wet if the window leaked, and found, tragically, that one of his legs had inexplicably become detached. Not only was that a cause macabre, but the situation deteriorated when we realised he was trying to speak. With a weak, croaky rattle, like a dying Geiger counter, he grated out his last words… and wouldn’t shut up, so we put him in the laundry, there to go in peace, surrounded by his mates. The scene reminded me of ‘The Death of Nelson.’ It was very moving. He’s not going in the bin (though after 28 years, he could do with the washing machine), and I’ll find somewhere else for him when the laundry floor dries out. If it does.

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It’s a day for battening down the hatches, staying indoors, and, in our case, putting towels around the windows. According to the weather channels, we’re in for a force nine overnight tonight, with rain and high winds developing through the day. Yesterday’s forecast showed more severe weather than this morning’s prediction, but still, best be safe. It also showed a lot of Sahara dust on its way…

However, this morning, that screen is clear, so unless the layer for ‘Dust’ is temporarily out of order, it’s all blown away, somewhere. In that case, not so much ‘red rain’ leaving its red dust and sludge behind, but also, maybe a computer glitch. Tempus revelat omnia. ‘Time reveals all.’ We shall see. But the clouds have been hanging around a while now, itching for a fight and preparing to do their thing. This was Monday morning:

Tempus revelat omnia. That motto was found inscribed in a pocket watch that came to light during the investigation into the ‘Jack the Ripper Diary,’ or forgery, depending on which evidence you believe. Had it not been for it being found scratched inside the casing, the rest of the watch might have been more believable, as it also had the initials of the canonical five Ripper victims scored into the metal. To add a kind of ‘You’ll see’ in Latin seems a little suspect if you ask me. But on the subject of ‘You’ll see’, we’ll now see what the day holds in store. It’s still dark, so I can’t comment on the skies, but I can hear the occasional gust of wind, though nothing dramatic. Let’s hope it isn’t too bad, because I saw several visitors wandering around yesterday evening, I think, looking for somewhere to eat, and they may be in for a shock if they’ve not experienced an island storm before. Things could get wild, but there’s no need to send thoughts and prayers. We’ve dealt with bad weather before. Hey! Maybe the phrase of the day should be Tempest revelat omnia.

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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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