Yesterday was a mix of a day. A warm enough morning for a walk without a jacket, followed by cooking up stories and a chili that will last me a few days, some of that there housework, including washing, and, eventually, a good old sit down on the saggy old sofa with my feet up. We had more army men helping with the rubbish clearance and lane tidying up the way, and the slope with the trees and the lane itself have never looked so neat. That’s with no disrespect to the guys who shift the rubbish and clear up after us, nor to the chap who clears general debris from the streets around here. These army guys are simply adding to what’s already well organised and regular, though I am not sure why. I wanted to get a photo of them in action, but it felt a little odd to stand at the bedroom window with a camera like a spy. Besides, there’s a whacking great pole in the way.

And then, in the early evening, everything went downhill. I was in the kitchen getting everything out to make myself a salad so I could feel virtuous, when I noticed a Symi spider investigating the hob not two feet away. It was only a three-incher, a young one, I guess, but that wasn’t the point. The point was, it was there and so was I, and there was no-one else in the house I could call on. My thought process went something like this:

Oh no, why now? Neil! (In Scotland.) Saucepan over the head? Mine or spider’s? Spider’s. No! Ew, nasty mess. Cockroach spray? Will that work? No, can’t do that; it might escape and return for revenge. It’s moving. Quick. Think. Bowl… They all have a lip on them, it could get out. Ah ha! Tupperware in the end cupboard. (Opens end cupboard to be showered with Tupperware, plastic containers from the supermarket, and other handy things to use in the freezer. Leave most on the floor and collect the nearest one with a lid.) Now what? Container over the spider… Bravery, bravery, ‘Who dares wins…’ Done. Now what? How do I get the lid under it, it’s too thick. If I life the box it will leap at my face like a thing from Alien and beat me black and blue for my audacity. Cornflake’s packet. (There was an empty one waiting to go to the bins.) Too big. It could go inside. You going to ask it? Cut it up. Find scissors, cut out square of cardboard, slide beneath box — good old Blue Peter — and, now what? The card is thin and needs holding underneath and the plastic box is transparent. Still, here we go…

It’s not a case of being afraid of these little creatures, it’s something else. Maybe bordering on revulsion for an illogical reason, or maybe something that just is, but although I didn’t have to look at it climbing around the box, I could feel it through the thin layer of cardboard, and I could hear it as I fled the house with it. My head was already aching and my heart pounding as I shuffled off up the lane in my slippers with this thing held before me, all the time telling myself I was doing well, and repeating what they say in every American film with the slightest quest involved, ‘You got this.’ I know I’ve got it, it’s in my hand, and the cardboard keeps moving, and it’s going to escape and attack, and even if I leave it up here it’s going to come back later and creep around at night… A safe distance from the house, I threw everything away with a ‘Be off with you!’ and watched it dive for cover up the slope so recently tidied by the soldiers. Then, I backed away slowly, eyes on the enemy, until I reached the safety of home where I shut all the windows.

However, they were already shut, as were the doors, so I was left wondering, ‘How long had that been in the house with me?’ Then came the usual thought of, ‘Are there more? What was that noise?’ Every small shadow becomes a possible threat. Lights stay on. Try not to think about it… and although I managed to watch a film after the event, I can’t tell you which one because my mind was elsewhere, and I was still trembling and a little nauseous until bedtime at eight thirty (dressed in my handy bee-keeping outfit).

Still. I’ve done it once. I can do it again. I only hope I don’t have to, and I’ll now be on the lookout for days. Perhaps I could ask those army men to stand guard at the perimeter of the house until Neil gets back. I’ll pop up and ask them later…

All quiet on the home front yesterday. The electricity bill came in, and having used a heater once or twice, and heated the hot water tank three times, and had the oven on for two hours, the bill has climbed by €50 over the past four weeks. Needless to say, I’ve not put my heater on this morning, yesterday’s shower will have to be my last hot one for the rest of the month, and even the air fryer is going to have to gather dust every couple of days. It’s not been that cold generally, the current cloud cover has warmed things up a little, and it’s due to stay like this for a while. Still, I’ll get an extra blanket or two out just in case.

Meanwhile, Neil has spent the day in Rhodes…

I’ve just checked in, and he was in a taxi and on his way to the airport at 04.15 for a flight at six. I think the hotel gave him a discount because he wasn’t able to make use of the breakfast part of his overnight stay, which was good of them.

I spent the day at home yesterday, but I did pop up to drop of the rubbish at the bin store, and on the way back, paused a moment to listen to the local soundscape. Nothing. No boats, birds, cars, mopeds, and not even any chickens. This only lasted a few seconds before the birds started up again, but even then, it stayed quiet for some time, and considering the lane is a ‘road’, that was a pleasant surprise. A little later, the usual sounds returned: The chickens and cockerels around the bins, the cats squabbling over whatever had just been dropped off there, and then, a moped or two because it was time to deliver the little’uns to the nursery school under the Castro. And then, during the day, a few people passing back and forth, the truck coming to collect the rubbish, parents and children coming back from school, and the occasional car squeezing through. Nothing disturbing or annoying, just the lane as it usually is at this time of year. No half-dressed tourists stopping to get a shot of the harbour below, no-one wandering around with a Google Map glued to their face, missing the view for the sake of not missing the boat, and all very pleasant.

Today may well be the same, but for me, I’ll have the clatter of typowriter keys and the whir of the electric meter to keep my company.

Not much in my head this morning apart from a recipe for gigantes, aka ‘big beans’ or butter beans in tomato sauce. Usually, I wake up with a random song going around my head, but today, it was a recipe. Not that I intend to make any today, but then, you never know; I might. I made a walnut cake yesterday, so anything can happen, particularly as I baked it in the air fryer. (The oven has been used twice since about May, and we’ve only put the heater on three or four times so far this autumn.) I’ve not even got a photo of my big beans to show you, but it’s a very simple recipe:

Soak dried big beans overnight, change water, and half cook them. Meanwhile, make a tomato sauce, and when that’s started but not cooked, put drained beans and sauce in a slow cooker, turn on to low and leave it alone all day. Check to make sure they don’t go mushy, but when they’re just about done, add in some last-minute dill, and there you are. I don’t do weights and measures unless it’s a cake recipe, which this isn’t; you just have to feel your way along by taste and instinct. This isn’t a traditional Greek recipe either, but my own simple version, and as you can tell, I’m never going to write a cookbook. If you do have a go at them and make a batch and then freeze them, be careful how you defrost and reheat, because they can go mushy. Otherwise, they’re fine. You can knock up a decent shared dish with them as well, another simple concoction. Baking tin, tinned tuna down the middle (out of its tins), beans around the edge, cover in cheese and some oil for the tuna, and then bake.

I can’t stop and pass on other handy household tips right now because Neil’s about to set off on his journey to Scotland, and we’ve yet to do that thing that goes like: ‘Got your passport? Yes. Got your wallet? Yes. Tickets? Yes. Got your passport? I know I have, but I’ll have to check again now you’ve said that. Tickets? Where they were two minutes ago. Phone charger? Where’s the boat? On its way. Passports? Yes!’ and so on…

I must away to see to all that unnecessary reminding, but will I then go and think about shopping and cooking and big beans? Probably not. It’ll be microwave baked potatoes and baked beans for the next two weeks. Yay!

The quiet days are starting to settle in, to be followed by quieter evenings, although last night we went out and painted the town red. Well, four of us went to Taverna George & Maria for dinner, and that’s about as red as you can get right now. The film club was also showing a film, I believe, and Lefteris kafeneion was open, and on the way back, there was a lad playing football in the square, underneath the streetlight, alone. The quiet times are upon us. The ferry came in the early morning and passed through again on its way to Athens, taking weekend and longer-stay visitors away, and, as we know, Neil’s off to start his trip tomorrow.

The packing was done days ago and didn’t take long. The speed of it reminded me of a time when I went to visit Marks and Spencer in Rhodes to buy a pack of socks. Having been there before, I knew where the men’s department was, so I walked in, climbed to the top floor, found what I needed, brought them down to the ground floor where the tills are, and paid for them. ‘You men are so fast with your shopping,’ the assistant said, apparently in awe. ‘How do you do it?’
It’s quite simple. You see what you need, buy it, and go. None of this trying things on, comparing colours, and standing before mirrors wondering how it will look from the side, and does it make my bum look big? Maybe I’ll try a smaller size, because it will fit one day… And then not liking it and starting on the next thing. A man’s thought process: I need clothes. There are clothes. I buy clothes. I go.

There’s another reason I don’t hang around these things called clothes shops, and that’s air conditioning running 24/7/365 (every day of the year). In the summer, you enter from 39° to an environment kept at a constant 39°, and walk up several flights of stairs with the temperature rising to 40°+, because men’s departments are always upstairs or hidden in the basement like they are in H&M (though that one comes with part of an ancient monument running through it, which lessens the blow). You’re faced with choices in a varied sea of colours (for men, these are grey, black, and white with a hint of drab), you know your t-shirt size, so drop one of them into your basket, but you might go for a new pair of jeans… Except that means having to try them on, and that means getting undressed behind a curtain, shoes unlaced, shoes off, and now you’re sweating a little more, and although it’s 43°, you pull on the potential new garment and don’t like it or, more likely, you’re not as slim as you thought you were, so you change it, which means putting on clothes, drying yourself down with a towel and continuing the hunt in 45°. More sweating as you repeat the process until you give up on that idea, and you’re just heading outside for cooler air when you think you should have a new and decent shirt to expand your wardrobe by 100%. But you don’t, because you’re now sweating like a blacksmith’s armpit, and if you try on a shirt, you’re going to have to wring it out before putting it back on the rack, and that’s not fair on the next chap who comes along. So you leave empty-handed, and go for a cup of tea instead. It’s just as hot in these shops in winter as it is in summer, so there’s no escape.
I dislike shopping for this, and other reasons, so I’m happier taking a gamble and buying ‘sight unseen’ and if it doesn’t fit when I get it home, I’ll give it to someone else.

Expect more of these odd thoughts as the winter months go on, because other than my writing, I’m not going to have much to talk about. Fear not, though, I shall think of something.

’Twas a busy weekend for the island for sure. The ferries leaving the island today and in the next few days will be full of passengers, pilgrims, and their transport, and hopefully, people who had a good time at the Panormitis festival that took place this weekend. The photos and videos doing the rounds show hundreds of people celebrating and worshipping under clear blue skies, with the island’s churches that are dedicated to St Michael hosting services and gatherings, food and feasting.

We did some of that ourselves, though at this end of the island. Godson Harry came for lunch on Friday, and the three of us spent several hours chatting and catching up with news and hearing of his adventures working at a hotel in Rhodes for the summer season. Fun times, hard work, seven months of relentless routine with only a little time off, difficult guests, flooding (during the recent storms), driving lessons, driving test, first car purchase, now back to college and the offer of a second year in a higher position at the same hotel for next season, and then… his future plans, but no point getting into all that now. A lovely afternoon and followed by another one the next day, when the whole ‘family’ met for lunch in Yialos.

The harbour cafes were doing a roaring trade, with some having their tables and chairs out on the quayside, the roads filled with pedestrians, and the tavernas that were open also looked to be doing good business. We had booked into O Liris on the town square, another place that was non-stop and turning around tables, and serving wonderful food. I can recommend the spetsofai, a sausage and pepper stew, just as I can recommend everything else we had to share on the table, which included chicken with ouzo, calamari, beetroot dip and… Well, next time you’re here, go there.

When here, you might hear some people, mainly Brits, referring to an eatery in Yialos called O’Leary’s. They’re talking about O Liris, and often call the place ‘The Irish bar.’ That description couldn’t be further from the truth, as it’s 100% Greek, but the warm welcome and friendly hosting are, in my experience, similar in both. There was more time for catching up and discussing future plans around the dining table, and we, although now older, reverted to the mayhem of our traditional family meals of the past, but without the boys squabbling when not staring at their phones, and without Neil dressing up in something outrageous, doing his best to embarrass them, and poking his tongue in people’s ears. We’re all grown up now, or on our way there, but that didn’t stop us having a good time. The event came with the added attraction of a lift home in Harry’s new car, and you don’t get a much better treat than that. (Because you’re able to reassure yourself that the young’un is a safe driver, and willing to turn the rap music down to a less thumping level when he has ‘elderly’ passengers.)

Sunday was, by comparison, a very quiet day at home with writing and household things to see to (which are still waiting to be seen to, of course), and with getting things in order for Neil’s Scotland trip which starts with the early morning Blue Star on Wednesday. This was made possible by the free airline tickets we won on New Year’s Day, though I am not going and gave my ticket to Jenine, who is also off on an adventure shortly. I shall be here, probably doing very little other than writing and trying to promote books, and keeping a promise: to do some sorting out and throwing away in the mousandra. If it’s been up there for more than five years without being used, it’s finally leaving the house. Though maybe not the speakers I bought back in 1983 which have been up there for 12 years, or the amp I’ve not used for all that time but can’t throw away because it was a good one, nor any of the other clutter that’s gathered there waiting to be of use one day. All that’s to come later this week, and I’ll keep you posted.