Pedi and Ποδόσφαιρο
I managed to write another (short) chapter of ‘The Eastling’ on Saturday morning, which brings the first draft word count up to 46,000 and I’m roughly halfway through the story. Afterwards, we set off to walk down to Pedi to have a drink and a chat with a friend who has a house there by the sea. That’s a very pleasant way to spend a couple of hours… Watching the world go by (the occasional visitor or local walking towards St Nicholas beech), catching up on news, discussing our writing, books, what’s going on in the world. Before we knew it, it was time to head back to the village as Neil had to go to work.
We took the bus up, not wanting to arrive for work sweaty and panting. Here’s another good thing about the ‘Symi City Bus’ to go with the other good things about it: if you’re in Pedi, it will stop for you at the jetty, outside Katsaras and also at the far end where it turns around. You can flag Thanasis or Lakis down just about anywhere on the route, and they will stop and collect you. The fare for any journey is now €1.70, and I’m sure having the correct change is always welcome. The bus will also deliver you to the Blue Star at new jetty at certain times – ask your driver for details.
Back in the village, it was an afternoon at the Rainbow with football (Ποδόσφαιρο – pothosfairo, from the words for foot and ballsup). I don’t have much to say on that score, except all this ‘football’s coming home’ claptrap is already doing my head in. If football were going home it would be returning to China, ancient Greece, Central America or Rome, all of which claim to have invented or played the game over 2,000 years ago. Okay, so England is credited with being the first to record rules, rules which players seem to have taken to heart these days. Example: Rule 03.12a, from the 1867 ‘Book of Etiquette and Established Procedures for the Fair Playing of the Diversion of Football’ states: “When approached by an opposing player to within a distance of no closer than two feet, a player shall – on the instant of the approach – fall to the grass in such throws of agony as to warrant his removal from the field under the pressure of complaint.” Or, in other words, behave like a five-year-old diva because someone touched his ear.
But, many people enjoyed watching the debacle inside and outside Lefteris’ kafeneion, and Rainbow, and in many other places too, no doubt. There was a good atmosphere as young and old worked themselves up into a frenzy of disbelief that England managed to win another game. And there’s something else: all I see and hear is ‘England won’t get through,’ and ‘They’re rubbish’, and then I see posts where everyone’s taking a shot at their national team and making jokes about how they’re going to lose… Apart from such supporters not exactly being supportive, they’re also hypocritical because, as soon as the team do win a match, everyone goes mad and says, ‘Yes! Good old England!’ ‘Knew they’d do it,’ ‘Go the lads,’ and ‘Football’s coming home — despite the fact we’ve been telling them they’re crap since the thing started.’ Makes no sense to me. I’d rather misquote John Betjeman: “Come friendly bombs and fall on football,” but that’s just me. And, I must admit, I also enjoyed my afternoon, with my back to the television, chatting away, watching other people also having fun.
Ah well. On with the week that will be.
