Sweeping Into The Wind
(I always thought that would be a good book title.)
I have a quieter week planned this week, but as you know, plans don’t always last for long around here. We were planning to have a farewell lunch in Yialos on Saturday, to see off Neil’s visiting brother, but that didn’t happen on account of said brother not visiting home until after 5.30 in the morning. That followed a successful (for him) night out at a drinks party on Friday night, then an evening of music at The Secret Garden, followed, so legend has it, by more drinks at The Jean & Tonic bar. He had just come home as I was getting up to start my day.
So, instead, I had a day at home to do some reading, and think about sweeping the courtyard. There was no point. It’s been windy of late, with the wind up to four or five on the Beaufort scale, and that’s blown off all the dead and dying leaves from the vine. I’ve got a potential bag full swirling around the courtyard and slowly finding their way into the house. I have set about sweeping up in the wind before, but it’s a bit pointless, like herding cats, as they say. It’s Sunday morning at the moment so I may have another go. The wind is still about but in less frequent gusts. It’s all nice and calm for a while, so the windows are open and the doors and a gentle breeze is… And then a sudden burst of enthusiasm from Boreas, Eurus or Apartcias, or whoever, and there’s a great slamming of doors and rattling of shutters, the paper light shades swing overhead, canvases fly from the walls and, although the wind is blowing through the house and out into the courtyard, the dead vine leaves somehow blow against it and into the hall.
As far as I know, the wind hasn’t affected the shipping, though some boats don’t run if there’s too big a swell. I’ve seen the larger ferries running in a force seven, and we’re nowhere near that – and there are no predictions of that in the forecasts. So, if you’re heading Symi-wards this week, you should have nothing to worry about. I’m heading in the opposite direction in two weeks, and I’ve printed my boarding passes. I’m running out of ink, so I hope EasyJet don’t mind that my boarding pass is puce rather than orange, and Jet2 are happy with pink rather than red. I reckon some of these companies are in cahoots with Hewlett Packard who make my printer. “Here, HP, we’ll do a deal with you to have our boarding passes plastered with unnecessary red ink if you give us back 50p on the pound for…” Or whatever. I mean, these swathes of blood red on a jet2 boarding pass, apart from being overly dramatic and not the most settling of colours, are completely unnecessary, and we the customer pay for our own printing now, so a simple black and white would do. (Could someone drop them a line for me and let them know? Ta.)
And off into the week I go. Well, I will tomorrow as it’s Sunday now, early, the soldiers haven’t yet sung the national anthem at the war memorial which they do at 8:00 every Sunday. Gosh, I am about my tasks early. Which means I’ve got plenty of time today to go and chase leaves around a courtyard.
