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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Ah, the end of the week. For some. Not for those who work every day from now until November with no day off, even though they are supposed to have time off from work. We all know ‘everyone’ does it, even with the new signing-in and signing-out rules now in place, where workers clock on electronically, and off again at the appointed time. This is so that ‘they’ (the authorities who ensure workers are being fairly treated and not cheated) can keep an eye on employers. ‘They’ do this to ensure that employees have time off, and don’t work over their hours. Of course, all that happens is the person signs off, but carries on working. This means, when ‘they’ are on the island inspecting paperwork and ensuring the employee is being treated fairly, everyone does as they should. As in: ‘You’re not at work, you’re just minding the shop for a friend,’ is the instruction from the boss, followed by, ‘If you see them, phone me,’ and off he goes home.

Anyway, it’s Friday, and no-one is trying to fiddle the system by having their workers sign in, off, and then carry on working. Of course not. Here’s a change of subject:

That was yesterday morning, and a fine sight to see in the greying of the dawn, what with the silvering of the sea and other suitable adjectives. I observed the tenders running back and forth all day, as around them, the daytrip boats came and went. This ‘Straits’ business doesn’t seem to have affected shipping in this area yet – that I know of. I noticed an increase in one price (of a ferry ticket), but that might have been on the cards anyway, and it was only €1.00. Some folk in the UK keep asking me, ‘Have you noticed any problem with your boats yet?’ as if they are hoping for a complete breakdown of law and order in Greece because of this crisis in the ‘Straits’, where, in fact, it seems to be their country that’s suffering a breakdown of everything from common sense to decency. I blame the ‘Straights’ for everything. This wouldn’t have happened had it been called the Gays of Hormuz. If that had been the case, they could have redecorated the tankers and given them curtains by now, not fired bombs at them.
And here’s another change of subject. Give him a wave:

That’s a [fill in name here] cactus that, apparently, only flowers for a day or so, and yesterday was the day. I approved of the wave it gave as it burst into life, but I think that has already gone, and I don’t want to check this morning when the sun comes up, in case it’s not there anymore. Bless. It’s probably clocked off and gone home for the weekend. Have a good one yourself, whatever you are doing.

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What do the following have in common?
Toothpaste, peas, milk, cheese, onions… You know, it’ll be quicker if I just show you the photo:

So, what does that lot have in common? Well, they all come with reusable plastic bags that will eventually end up hanging from branches up near the tip and stay there for a hundred years, but apart from that… That, on the table, is what €50.00 will get you these days when shopping on Symi. I’m not pointing at any one shop here, in fact, if I am, it is at the cheaper of our supermarkets; there are others I know of that charge more for certain things, while others charge less. You have to shop around, but generally speaking… That little lot will cost you an orange fifty.

We used to have a greengrocer in the village, sadly not for long enough, and after shopping there, you could have covered the table in €10.00 worth of veg, and that would have lasted you a week. Now, that medium-sized tin of coffee was €7.00-something (the double-sized one is only ten, but they didn’t have any), and the biscuits are a luxury. At least, they would be if they didn’t have chocolate on them. The cheapest thing on there is probably the tin of tomatoes, as you can still get one for €0.80. The veg is rarely priced around here, so it’s always hit and miss regarding cost, but last year, a cauliflower was going for €5.00, and it was a small one, mainly made up of greenery. It was a special event.

Milk appears to have doubled in price over the last couple of years, but the price of a five-litre wine box has taken 20 years to go from €10.00 to €15.00. Lord! I sound like I doing an episode of ‘Houseparty’, which, in case you have forgotten, was a Southern TV, afternoon show that ran from 1968 to, surprisingly, 1995 – and I say ‘surprisingly’ because it was rubbish. Just a group of gossiping housewives (probably can’t say that these days), who sat around getting enthusiastic about blanket stitch and Mary’s muffins. It was a cheap afternoon programme that I still remember fondly. I think, today, they call it ‘Loose Women.’ Or is that, Lose Women? That’s one I always have to look up.

And talking of looking up, it is what Neil did yesterday evening, and this was the result.

This was my version.

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