… here in Greece is the seasonality of so many activities. In the UK, you are seldom aware of the time of year, except for the temperature and length of day. In Greece, lots of things are seasonal. We were getting the most fantastic figs in the shops last month. Now the olive harvest is beginning. And we’ve had a bit of rain – less apocalyptic than the early storms. In England, everyone grumbles when it rains. Here, there is much celebration.
I rescued someone’s PC from oblivion by virus last week, and was ACTUALLY PAID for the job, in money, well, Euros.
In my excitement of last week’s news from Lionel, I forgot to mention something. I was just walking over the rather threadbare patch of wiry lawn across the road from the harbour on last Monday or Tuesday, I think it was. Suddenly, I felt rather woozy. I wondered whether it was a hangover or a stroke. I nearly fell over, but I clutched at a sapling. That was when I saw old Vanidis sit down very suddenly on the street, and heard a number of surprised cries. And I was aware that the sapling I was holding was whipping back and forth a bit, while half a dozen cooking oil tins containing geraniums and busy lizzies fell from their uncertain perch on the balcony rail above the laundry into the street. It was, of course, an earthquake, my first, and it felt like standing on a plate of jelly while someone shook it back and forth. Weird, but it didn’t last long. Much jollity among those of us on the street. It’s significant, though, that we all glanced out to sea, just in case a tsunami was on the way!