Hi everyone,
Just back for the Lassithi Plateau where I have been doing a recke for old houses there. There are lots of them. It is another world up there, far from the madding crowd and beautiful. If you want to escape, climb mountain, or just hide away in a cottage with a log fire, then this is the place. It is only 40 minutes away from Vrahassi, the road from Malia, though windy, is very good and the Dikti mounains surround the flat plateau. We had wonderful food (meze) at a small cafeneo in Agios Yorgos and wonderful company too.
I'm running late so promise to continue the 'It's just a story' tomorrow. David and I are off out to dinner with a couple of friends from Limness.
Oh, just to say that the 'Chinese Night' is fully booked. Sorry if you missed this one, maybe I can persuade Julia to repeat another month.
It is hailing ice at the moment in Vrahassi - winter has arrived!
Monday, January 28, 2008
Saturday, January 26, 2008
IT'S SATURDAY
Well, one week to go to our trip to England. I've a busy day ahead so I'll be brief. Sunday Lunch will go ahead as normal tomorrow with Roast Beef and Yorkshire pudding.
A quick translation of the bit in the paper, will the gist of it is that the ex Mayor Mr Markakis just pointed out that it had come to his notice that I organised walks in and around Vrahassi. He says that he has always wanted this to happen and is very interested in opening up the old roads.
And now, very quickly before I shoot off to buy supplies, a bit more of 'It's Just a Story.' I know it is a bit strange having to look back to the beginning but that's blogging for you. Here goes...
(and I say again, all characters and places are purely fictitious).
Part lll - the Dream Catcher
"Prepare to sweep,' commanded Zod, in that satisfied tone of 'gotcha' that all hunters have when nailing their target.
"All points locked Sir, ready to sweep," replied Ay, Zod's second in command (whose dream had been to be first in command but Zod had snatched it, thus ensuring that Ay would always be second in command). The vessel was buffeted by the north wind but it kept a steady course.
"Hold her steady... now sweep." Zod was a ruthless dream catcher. He smashed his fist onto the control panel. "Mine," he said with that Gollum-like glee of possession.
This time, Zod had swept up a dream house and smashed the hopes of a young couple whose dreams were about to come true: he had stolen their dream and he entered it into his virtual reality computer under 'Dream Homes'.
The Dream Catcher was well aware of Goldstime and his inaccessible dream of a vault full of precious time. It was the pot at the end of the rainbow for Zod. It was the one dream that had eluded all his efforts to ensnare. He had tried sneaking up on Goldstime just as he was about to go to sleep. He had tried locking on to him as he had finished counting his money every day (because that was when he was most likely to dream of having more, and time was money). He had even pretended to be a customer and had bought a clock of remarkable elegance, and, by the way, very, very, expensive as it also incorporated chiming bells that sounded exactly like church bells and ensured that you would always get to the church on time (and you would certainly never be late for your own funeral). But Zod had been so fascinated by his new toy that he had forgotten why he had gone to buy it and the secret of where Mr Goldstime kept his dreams was safe.
It was very confusing for Zod because he was used to an easy life. There were plenty of castles in the air, all full of wonderful treasure. But always at the back of his mind was that big one; the one that one day would give him enough to retire on. He never had quite enough time but with Goldstime's dream he would have more than he knew what to do with. It would be like finding eternal life. What he could do with all that extra time! Zod's dream bubble went into the pool. He dreamed of finding the vault of extra time and the secret of eternal life.
************************************************************************************
Yorgos took another puff on his roll up. He inhaled it deeply. The sun was on his back and his sheep were all gathered around him bleating and buffeting each other for a place at the watering trough. Yorgos was happy. The thought crossed his mind to do something that God would punish him for, for sure, but as most thought did, it crossed his mind very quickly and was replaced by a void, just a void. He sat on a rock and blended in to the world around him. And it was at that very moment that it happened.
Usually something like that only happens to Nepalese monks half way up a mountain in the Himalaya, or to Indian Gurus whilst sitting on a bed of nails. But not this time... this time it was Yorgos the shepherd who experienced some great 'out of body'; some would call it a 'divine' experience. A revelation of the third kind entered the void in Yorgos' mind. It was such a powerful vision that the bubble that contained it was barely strong enough. In fact the dream was so real that it made Yorgo open his eyes and grip the rock beneath him just to make sure that he was where he thought he was. But, of course, he wasn't. He looked at his new watch. It read one second to thirteen - and it had stopped. Yorgo was stuck in extra time. He was aware of the world about him moving on but he was not part of it. He hovered in some sort of space-time continuum not knowing what was going to happen next, if indeed there was a 'next' because time for him had stopped. He was in a no-man's-land of time. For some reason the mutation, or the evolutionary increase of his brain cell had thrown his mind somewhere that no mind had been before. he looked down from the bubble that seemed to surround him... and his journey began.
************************************************************************************
And now I really must go to Neapolis to get the meet for tomorrow and the beer for tonight. It's football and Chelsea are playing so if you come to the bar, better wear blue. See yers! Jane x
A quick translation of the bit in the paper, will the gist of it is that the ex Mayor Mr Markakis just pointed out that it had come to his notice that I organised walks in and around Vrahassi. He says that he has always wanted this to happen and is very interested in opening up the old roads.
And now, very quickly before I shoot off to buy supplies, a bit more of 'It's Just a Story.' I know it is a bit strange having to look back to the beginning but that's blogging for you. Here goes...
(and I say again, all characters and places are purely fictitious).
Part lll - the Dream Catcher
"Prepare to sweep,' commanded Zod, in that satisfied tone of 'gotcha' that all hunters have when nailing their target.
"All points locked Sir, ready to sweep," replied Ay, Zod's second in command (whose dream had been to be first in command but Zod had snatched it, thus ensuring that Ay would always be second in command). The vessel was buffeted by the north wind but it kept a steady course.
"Hold her steady... now sweep." Zod was a ruthless dream catcher. He smashed his fist onto the control panel. "Mine," he said with that Gollum-like glee of possession.
This time, Zod had swept up a dream house and smashed the hopes of a young couple whose dreams were about to come true: he had stolen their dream and he entered it into his virtual reality computer under 'Dream Homes'.
The Dream Catcher was well aware of Goldstime and his inaccessible dream of a vault full of precious time. It was the pot at the end of the rainbow for Zod. It was the one dream that had eluded all his efforts to ensnare. He had tried sneaking up on Goldstime just as he was about to go to sleep. He had tried locking on to him as he had finished counting his money every day (because that was when he was most likely to dream of having more, and time was money). He had even pretended to be a customer and had bought a clock of remarkable elegance, and, by the way, very, very, expensive as it also incorporated chiming bells that sounded exactly like church bells and ensured that you would always get to the church on time (and you would certainly never be late for your own funeral). But Zod had been so fascinated by his new toy that he had forgotten why he had gone to buy it and the secret of where Mr Goldstime kept his dreams was safe.
It was very confusing for Zod because he was used to an easy life. There were plenty of castles in the air, all full of wonderful treasure. But always at the back of his mind was that big one; the one that one day would give him enough to retire on. He never had quite enough time but with Goldstime's dream he would have more than he knew what to do with. It would be like finding eternal life. What he could do with all that extra time! Zod's dream bubble went into the pool. He dreamed of finding the vault of extra time and the secret of eternal life.
************************************************************************************
Yorgos took another puff on his roll up. He inhaled it deeply. The sun was on his back and his sheep were all gathered around him bleating and buffeting each other for a place at the watering trough. Yorgos was happy. The thought crossed his mind to do something that God would punish him for, for sure, but as most thought did, it crossed his mind very quickly and was replaced by a void, just a void. He sat on a rock and blended in to the world around him. And it was at that very moment that it happened.
Usually something like that only happens to Nepalese monks half way up a mountain in the Himalaya, or to Indian Gurus whilst sitting on a bed of nails. But not this time... this time it was Yorgos the shepherd who experienced some great 'out of body'; some would call it a 'divine' experience. A revelation of the third kind entered the void in Yorgos' mind. It was such a powerful vision that the bubble that contained it was barely strong enough. In fact the dream was so real that it made Yorgo open his eyes and grip the rock beneath him just to make sure that he was where he thought he was. But, of course, he wasn't. He looked at his new watch. It read one second to thirteen - and it had stopped. Yorgo was stuck in extra time. He was aware of the world about him moving on but he was not part of it. He hovered in some sort of space-time continuum not knowing what was going to happen next, if indeed there was a 'next' because time for him had stopped. He was in a no-man's-land of time. For some reason the mutation, or the evolutionary increase of his brain cell had thrown his mind somewhere that no mind had been before. he looked down from the bubble that seemed to surround him... and his journey began.
************************************************************************************
And now I really must go to Neapolis to get the meet for tomorrow and the beer for tonight. It's football and Chelsea are playing so if you come to the bar, better wear blue. See yers! Jane x
Thursday, January 24, 2008
'IT'S ONLY A STORY'
CONT...
The watchmaker, Goldstime, was under the misapprehension that he made time. In fact he never made time for anyone. He said that he got the idea one day when he overheard a conversation by two elderly gentlemen. "If only we had a little more time," they were heard to say. Being of the Oy Vay persuasion, the watchmaker had seen a gap in the market and had begun to produce watches that went back an hour every twelve hours thus giving an extra two hours in every day. In 365 days there would be an extra 730 hours, that's roughly an extra month every year. The date was always constant as the watch had a heat sensitive mechanism that was activated when the wearer drank his first coffee every morning.
Goldstime tested the market on the Vlahassians. The watches began to sell like mobile phones. Everyone had to have one even if they didn't know what to do with it, which made the watchmaker very happy and also meant that the whole of Vlavlohos was on the same time. As with mobile phones, Goldstime had incorporated a 'sheep jumping over fences' game which in actual fact was more important to the Vlahassians than time itself, and to have the advantage of an extra two hours a day in which to sit and play the 'sheep jumping over fences ' game was a marvel of the modern world.
"Oy Vay!" exclaimed Goldstime, and, when he had finished counting his money he set about making a watch with even more time in every day. Soon people from all over the world were buying time from this insidious little man and he began to dream of time in the same way that the shepherds dreamed of sheep. Time was his life. He had a constant tick-tock in his head that was time. With every tick came another customer: with every tock another dollar. He counted extra time. He made slow time. He sold four-four time, six-eight time, double-fast time and even syncopated time. When he had time on his hands he wasted it in idle dreams; dreams of owning a vault full of precious time. But the watchmaker's dreams were not dreamed in real time so his dream bubble was sort of floating somewhere in the fifth dimension. It didn't bother Goldstime.
It did bother the Dream Catcher.
***********************************************************************************
(Tomorrow, or the day after, I will introduce you to the Dream Catcher).
Bye the way, my name was mentioned in yesterday's ANATOLH the Ag Nik daily rag. In an article written by Mr Markakis the one time mayor of Vrahassi he says (on page 8)
"Μετά τις 'Καποδιστριακές' ιστορίες του χωριού μας, ο προβληματισμός μου αυτός ενεργοποιήθηκε και πάλι, όταν διαπίστωσα ότι τα τελευταία χρόνια μια ξένη η κ. Τζέην διοργανώνει, μέσω του διαδικτύου, πεζοδρομίες τουριστών στην ευρύτερη μεριοχή του Βραχασίου (Αγ. Γεώργιοψ Βραχασώτης - αρχαιότητεσ 'Αναύλοχοθ' κ.λ.π.).
(translation in a short while as I have customers in the bar).
The watchmaker, Goldstime, was under the misapprehension that he made time. In fact he never made time for anyone. He said that he got the idea one day when he overheard a conversation by two elderly gentlemen. "If only we had a little more time," they were heard to say. Being of the Oy Vay persuasion, the watchmaker had seen a gap in the market and had begun to produce watches that went back an hour every twelve hours thus giving an extra two hours in every day. In 365 days there would be an extra 730 hours, that's roughly an extra month every year. The date was always constant as the watch had a heat sensitive mechanism that was activated when the wearer drank his first coffee every morning.
Goldstime tested the market on the Vlahassians. The watches began to sell like mobile phones. Everyone had to have one even if they didn't know what to do with it, which made the watchmaker very happy and also meant that the whole of Vlavlohos was on the same time. As with mobile phones, Goldstime had incorporated a 'sheep jumping over fences' game which in actual fact was more important to the Vlahassians than time itself, and to have the advantage of an extra two hours a day in which to sit and play the 'sheep jumping over fences ' game was a marvel of the modern world.
"Oy Vay!" exclaimed Goldstime, and, when he had finished counting his money he set about making a watch with even more time in every day. Soon people from all over the world were buying time from this insidious little man and he began to dream of time in the same way that the shepherds dreamed of sheep. Time was his life. He had a constant tick-tock in his head that was time. With every tick came another customer: with every tock another dollar. He counted extra time. He made slow time. He sold four-four time, six-eight time, double-fast time and even syncopated time. When he had time on his hands he wasted it in idle dreams; dreams of owning a vault full of precious time. But the watchmaker's dreams were not dreamed in real time so his dream bubble was sort of floating somewhere in the fifth dimension. It didn't bother Goldstime.
It did bother the Dream Catcher.
***********************************************************************************
(Tomorrow, or the day after, I will introduce you to the Dream Catcher).
Bye the way, my name was mentioned in yesterday's ANATOLH the Ag Nik daily rag. In an article written by Mr Markakis the one time mayor of Vrahassi he says (on page 8)
"Μετά τις 'Καποδιστριακές' ιστορίες του χωριού μας, ο προβληματισμός μου αυτός ενεργοποιήθηκε και πάλι, όταν διαπίστωσα ότι τα τελευταία χρόνια μια ξένη η κ. Τζέην διοργανώνει, μέσω του διαδικτύου, πεζοδρομίες τουριστών στην ευρύτερη μεριοχή του Βραχασίου (Αγ. Γεώργιοψ Βραχασώτης - αρχαιότητεσ 'Αναύλοχοθ' κ.λ.π.).
(translation in a short while as I have customers in the bar).
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD!
Woe, woe and thrice woe! The three cafebars in the centre of Vrahassi have been presented with a bill for the rent of footage on the edge of the mountain. Now, I am new here and because I know that businesses in Sissi have to pay for the part of the road which they use to put tables and chairs on, whilst I can ill afford to pay the bill, I did expect some sort of charge for council land. But, oh dear, the local residents, who have never been charged in this way, are very angry and have asked me to join them in appealing to the Council. There is even talk that the piece of mountain edge which I am being asked to pay for does not, in fact, belong to the Council, so where does that leave me (and my outside tables and chairs)?
Anyway I have said that I will go to the authority with the other people as and when they want me to. The charge certainly seems to have stirred up a few tempers. So we shall see what happens later. Wait till George hears about it (wonderful something for him to shout about). A 'cause' no less, ooh goody, goody!
And... woe, woe and thrice woe on a totally different subject. I have suddenly realized that the conversion to stones from kilograms for my weight makes me about a stone heavier than I thought I was and I'm totally shocked. So shocked that it has really put me off my food (and drink). I thought the 'large' sized leggings that I bought were too small because they were cheap, and that my jumper didn't fit because it had shrunk in the wash. Now I realize that there are no excuses, it's all 'fat'. Now there could just be a proportion of it that is muscle (and muscle weighs heavier than fat so they say) but either way the scales don't lie, (damn Christmas and all that chocolate).
I'll just have to take myself in hand and stop testing all those Yorkshire Puddings. It can only mean more for my customers (my thin customers). So don't be discouraged friends of Jane Guevara's, I will still be turning out the Sunday Roast and the Friday Fish only please take note that the shop will be closed from Saturday 2nd February through to Friday 15th February, so that means 'no' Sunday lunch for two weekends.
Now, for a long time I have wanted to serialise my little story about a man who invents a watch that has an extra hour in every twelve so giving everyone 2 extra hours a day. I have decided to give it a testy-run on the blog (just to give you a laugh really) it's my little 'book at bedtime' sort of thing. Of course I claim full copyright. You'll only get a little bit every day but it might just bring a smile to your faces and that's always good 'ain't it?'
Now I have to say that all of the people and incidents in this story are truly fictitious.
Here goes, part one 'It's Just a Story" by Jane Sharp
It was a June day, clouds were surfing the wild blue sky on a northerly wind which blew in over the turquoise sea. The wind cooled the mountain-side like a pan cosmic fan that just happened to be turned in the direction of Vlahassi Geranium petals confetti-ed terracotta terraces: empty snack packets found their way into the curb side and lodged like crinkled mirrors amongst dust and plant debris. The hammering of building work was carried away into the stratosphere to become one continuous sound of rushing air above the housetops, disorientating in its perfect imitation of a cold north wind. And the sun shone.
Yorgos, was glad of the slightly cooler temperature. He stood on an outcrop of rock and tried to count a moving flock of goats and sheep that clang-clanged their way between the granite of the gorge as they descended the steep hillside to the watering troughs below. Yorgos' flock was small but it kept him in money for cigarettes and coffee and a regular three monthly hair cut. It must have been coming up to one of those three month dates because his mop of wiry grey curls looked like a privet hedge that was well out of control. His faded black shirt and well seated jeans were certainly ready for mother's attention but what was that to him. The state of his lived-in work wear only matched the sorry sight of his banged and battered pickup truck. Both served him well enough: he had nobody to impress. His family, his friends, his fellow Vlahassians were all comrades on the same side; all kitted out in regulation shepherd gear. All beating the potholed olive trails of the mountain in bashed up old Fords. All occupied in the daily herding, watering, milking, shearing and slaughtering of goats and sheep.
There was an ever present smell of boiled lamb in the village which, in the oppressive heat of mid summer, hung in the empty afternoon quiet as if ghost herders had penned the square with market-ready mutton. As grandfathers dosed in the shadows they counted the sheep of ages. As Grandmothers took their siesta they counted the lambs they had reared. As the shepherds and their sons snoozed their fingers jerked in an involuntary movement of milking. While the village slept the collective consciousness of the mountain, known as Vlavlohos, sent out a huge balloon of imaginary sheep. It was threaded to every dream, invisible but nevertheless there. A giant thought balloon of sheep that hovered in a sort of omnipresence that blocked everything else from the minds of the Vlahassians. They lived, breathed and dreamed 'sheep'.
Today, on this fresh, June day, as Yorgos the shepherd traced his livelihood down the single track, one by one, by one, he had no idea that his life was about to change. For the past fifty years, boy and man, he had been a shepherd. he had wrestled rams, bottle fed lambs, butchered and barbecued his way through life. He had the sound of clanking bells in his head wherever he went and he had the smell of sheep dung and sheep-breath in his nostrils. When he wasn't with his sheep he was with his compatriots, eating and drinking until sleep took them all into sheep dreams. He could neither read not write but he had an animalistic urge that caused a tingling in his pants; he filled his belly whenever food was put in front of him and, he feared God (though not enough not to have done those things which his mother had told him God would punish him for).
Yorgos, though he did not know it, was about to take a quantum leap in thought. His single brain cell was about to multiply. As he put the flame to his roll-up and inhaled, weed filled the cavity between his eyeball sockets, clouded over the third eye, (which in shepherds is usually clouded over anyway), and by some fluke of nature, or as an evolutionary necessity, a minute particle of ash latched on to that tiny piece of gray matter that produces pictures (in Yorgos' case of sheep), and Yorgos found himself on the edge of cataclysmic thought.
(There, that's the beginning. In chapter two you will be introduced to Mr Goldstime the watchmaker - sleep tight!)
Anyway I have said that I will go to the authority with the other people as and when they want me to. The charge certainly seems to have stirred up a few tempers. So we shall see what happens later. Wait till George hears about it (wonderful something for him to shout about). A 'cause' no less, ooh goody, goody!
And... woe, woe and thrice woe on a totally different subject. I have suddenly realized that the conversion to stones from kilograms for my weight makes me about a stone heavier than I thought I was and I'm totally shocked. So shocked that it has really put me off my food (and drink). I thought the 'large' sized leggings that I bought were too small because they were cheap, and that my jumper didn't fit because it had shrunk in the wash. Now I realize that there are no excuses, it's all 'fat'. Now there could just be a proportion of it that is muscle (and muscle weighs heavier than fat so they say) but either way the scales don't lie, (damn Christmas and all that chocolate).
I'll just have to take myself in hand and stop testing all those Yorkshire Puddings. It can only mean more for my customers (my thin customers). So don't be discouraged friends of Jane Guevara's, I will still be turning out the Sunday Roast and the Friday Fish only please take note that the shop will be closed from Saturday 2nd February through to Friday 15th February, so that means 'no' Sunday lunch for two weekends.
Now, for a long time I have wanted to serialise my little story about a man who invents a watch that has an extra hour in every twelve so giving everyone 2 extra hours a day. I have decided to give it a testy-run on the blog (just to give you a laugh really) it's my little 'book at bedtime' sort of thing. Of course I claim full copyright. You'll only get a little bit every day but it might just bring a smile to your faces and that's always good 'ain't it?'
Now I have to say that all of the people and incidents in this story are truly fictitious.
Here goes, part one 'It's Just a Story" by Jane Sharp
It was a June day, clouds were surfing the wild blue sky on a northerly wind which blew in over the turquoise sea. The wind cooled the mountain-side like a pan cosmic fan that just happened to be turned in the direction of Vlahassi Geranium petals confetti-ed terracotta terraces: empty snack packets found their way into the curb side and lodged like crinkled mirrors amongst dust and plant debris. The hammering of building work was carried away into the stratosphere to become one continuous sound of rushing air above the housetops, disorientating in its perfect imitation of a cold north wind. And the sun shone.
Yorgos, was glad of the slightly cooler temperature. He stood on an outcrop of rock and tried to count a moving flock of goats and sheep that clang-clanged their way between the granite of the gorge as they descended the steep hillside to the watering troughs below. Yorgos' flock was small but it kept him in money for cigarettes and coffee and a regular three monthly hair cut. It must have been coming up to one of those three month dates because his mop of wiry grey curls looked like a privet hedge that was well out of control. His faded black shirt and well seated jeans were certainly ready for mother's attention but what was that to him. The state of his lived-in work wear only matched the sorry sight of his banged and battered pickup truck. Both served him well enough: he had nobody to impress. His family, his friends, his fellow Vlahassians were all comrades on the same side; all kitted out in regulation shepherd gear. All beating the potholed olive trails of the mountain in bashed up old Fords. All occupied in the daily herding, watering, milking, shearing and slaughtering of goats and sheep.
There was an ever present smell of boiled lamb in the village which, in the oppressive heat of mid summer, hung in the empty afternoon quiet as if ghost herders had penned the square with market-ready mutton. As grandfathers dosed in the shadows they counted the sheep of ages. As Grandmothers took their siesta they counted the lambs they had reared. As the shepherds and their sons snoozed their fingers jerked in an involuntary movement of milking. While the village slept the collective consciousness of the mountain, known as Vlavlohos, sent out a huge balloon of imaginary sheep. It was threaded to every dream, invisible but nevertheless there. A giant thought balloon of sheep that hovered in a sort of omnipresence that blocked everything else from the minds of the Vlahassians. They lived, breathed and dreamed 'sheep'.
Today, on this fresh, June day, as Yorgos the shepherd traced his livelihood down the single track, one by one, by one, he had no idea that his life was about to change. For the past fifty years, boy and man, he had been a shepherd. he had wrestled rams, bottle fed lambs, butchered and barbecued his way through life. He had the sound of clanking bells in his head wherever he went and he had the smell of sheep dung and sheep-breath in his nostrils. When he wasn't with his sheep he was with his compatriots, eating and drinking until sleep took them all into sheep dreams. He could neither read not write but he had an animalistic urge that caused a tingling in his pants; he filled his belly whenever food was put in front of him and, he feared God (though not enough not to have done those things which his mother had told him God would punish him for).
Yorgos, though he did not know it, was about to take a quantum leap in thought. His single brain cell was about to multiply. As he put the flame to his roll-up and inhaled, weed filled the cavity between his eyeball sockets, clouded over the third eye, (which in shepherds is usually clouded over anyway), and by some fluke of nature, or as an evolutionary necessity, a minute particle of ash latched on to that tiny piece of gray matter that produces pictures (in Yorgos' case of sheep), and Yorgos found himself on the edge of cataclysmic thought.
(There, that's the beginning. In chapter two you will be introduced to Mr Goldstime the watchmaker - sleep tight!)
Monday, January 14, 2008
BUSY WEEKEND!
Well, sorry about the delay in getting back but work sort of took over. First there was a quick visit to Ag Nik on Friday morning for my blood test results (best ever so this dose of Thyroid stuff seems to be spot on), then a dash round the supermarket in Neapolis on the way back, returning just in time for Greek class. That over it was into the night with preparation of Fish pie for those who turned up for it. That seemed to go down well and I've got a request for a repeat performance this Friday.
The rest of the weekend was equally hectic and yesterday's roast beef tasted (in my opinion) the best ever, though it was evening by the time I got mine.
It's my day off and I have to confess that I had a lie- in this morning and read another chapter of my book (Great Economic Thinkers) there have been some disasters in philosophic thought it seems, fortunes made and lost, socialist ideas not quite working out, capitalist nastiness (re child labour and slavery) Aristocratic uselessness (though I'm quite a royalist at heart and I think Prince Charles does his bit). Anyway lets hope my semi-idleness in a warm bed was not totally wasted and that some of what I read my be of use to me.
This afternoon 3 p.m. is band practice and David and I are going out to dinner with some Greek friends tonight. I am looking forward to that. In the meantime it is a lovely high pressure day and the sky is blue with only a few clouds. I know that I should go for a walk but it is fitting it in, tomorrow morning maybe.
At the 'weigh in' on Saturday I had lost just over a kilo but not quite back to where I was before Xmas so still on the jolly old calorie counting thing. David has cut out alcohol until we go to England (so that is alcohol, salt and chocolate he has cut) on his 'lets be healthy' kick. I have not cut out anything but I have cut down, it seems to be working.
Now, here is a must for your diary. CHINESE NEW YEAR 7th FEBRUARY and there will be a great celebration at (guess where) you got it, the REVOLUTION BAR in Vrahassi. Gavin's mate in London is sending a parcel of posters and banquet goodies, Julia (cook extraordinaire) will be banqueting chef and Lydia and Mark will be 'mine host' for the evening. Now, it is unfortunate but David and I will not be present as the date of Chinese New Year coincides with our visit to England, but hey! the wheels of the universe won't stop turning just because we are not in Vrahassi, and I know that this is going to be a splendid event (so much work has gone in to the organising of it). So, if you are interested in something just a little different, then contact either me, 6945 872 472 or Julia (Flowers of Crete), to reserve a place at our banqueting table.
And... our intention is to make this the launch of our Exclusive Diners' Club and every month Julia will be creating wonderful cuisine to go with my selection of wine.
Just to report, there was a funeral on Saturday of an old lady named Ismina Zouraris, she was from Vrahassi but lived in Athens.
And something I haven't seen for a while, a small motorbike has just gone by with an old lady sitting side saddle on the back (no helmets of course). While we are talking of motorbikes, there is one parked outside my pergola with a 'for sale' sign on it but I have no idea who it belongs to (or in fact, to whom it belongs).
George and I are going to harvest a few olives from our land this week if the weather holds so that we can have some good oil for the bar, so on that thought of work I will stop writing and get on with something productive (like making a hot drink).
Father Christmas is still climbing the balcony opposite but the Council have removed the Xmas lights (well done) apart from the extravagance we really don't want Christmas to run in to Easter.
Byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
The rest of the weekend was equally hectic and yesterday's roast beef tasted (in my opinion) the best ever, though it was evening by the time I got mine.
It's my day off and I have to confess that I had a lie- in this morning and read another chapter of my book (Great Economic Thinkers) there have been some disasters in philosophic thought it seems, fortunes made and lost, socialist ideas not quite working out, capitalist nastiness (re child labour and slavery) Aristocratic uselessness (though I'm quite a royalist at heart and I think Prince Charles does his bit). Anyway lets hope my semi-idleness in a warm bed was not totally wasted and that some of what I read my be of use to me.
This afternoon 3 p.m. is band practice and David and I are going out to dinner with some Greek friends tonight. I am looking forward to that. In the meantime it is a lovely high pressure day and the sky is blue with only a few clouds. I know that I should go for a walk but it is fitting it in, tomorrow morning maybe.
At the 'weigh in' on Saturday I had lost just over a kilo but not quite back to where I was before Xmas so still on the jolly old calorie counting thing. David has cut out alcohol until we go to England (so that is alcohol, salt and chocolate he has cut) on his 'lets be healthy' kick. I have not cut out anything but I have cut down, it seems to be working.
Now, here is a must for your diary. CHINESE NEW YEAR 7th FEBRUARY and there will be a great celebration at (guess where) you got it, the REVOLUTION BAR in Vrahassi. Gavin's mate in London is sending a parcel of posters and banquet goodies, Julia (cook extraordinaire) will be banqueting chef and Lydia and Mark will be 'mine host' for the evening. Now, it is unfortunate but David and I will not be present as the date of Chinese New Year coincides with our visit to England, but hey! the wheels of the universe won't stop turning just because we are not in Vrahassi, and I know that this is going to be a splendid event (so much work has gone in to the organising of it). So, if you are interested in something just a little different, then contact either me, 6945 872 472 or Julia (Flowers of Crete), to reserve a place at our banqueting table.
And... our intention is to make this the launch of our Exclusive Diners' Club and every month Julia will be creating wonderful cuisine to go with my selection of wine.
Just to report, there was a funeral on Saturday of an old lady named Ismina Zouraris, she was from Vrahassi but lived in Athens.
And something I haven't seen for a while, a small motorbike has just gone by with an old lady sitting side saddle on the back (no helmets of course). While we are talking of motorbikes, there is one parked outside my pergola with a 'for sale' sign on it but I have no idea who it belongs to (or in fact, to whom it belongs).
George and I are going to harvest a few olives from our land this week if the weather holds so that we can have some good oil for the bar, so on that thought of work I will stop writing and get on with something productive (like making a hot drink).
Father Christmas is still climbing the balcony opposite but the Council have removed the Xmas lights (well done) apart from the extravagance we really don't want Christmas to run in to Easter.
Byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
Thursday, January 10, 2008
BOOKS, BOOKS AND MORE BOOKS!
I am expecting delivery of my new shelf unit today. I have so many books now that I have had to reorganise my display. It's a veritable library so please don't be short of something to read this winter, come and browse my titles. The idea is to exchange books but never mind if you don't have any to exchange you can still take a book and leave a small donation. Or if you have any books that you want to get rid of then bring them along to fill up my extra shelves.
It's cold again today but not as cold as yesterday when I thought for a change I would try to look more feminine and wear a skirt. Ooh ch.i.ll.y or what! I'm back in trousers today and never mind all that 'show a leg' thing. At least the office and bar are warm so no problem there. Speaking of which it is 2 p.m. so I'd better get myself upstairs and open up the shop.
Talk tomorrow,
Love Jane x
It's cold again today but not as cold as yesterday when I thought for a change I would try to look more feminine and wear a skirt. Ooh ch.i.ll.y or what! I'm back in trousers today and never mind all that 'show a leg' thing. At least the office and bar are warm so no problem there. Speaking of which it is 2 p.m. so I'd better get myself upstairs and open up the shop.
Talk tomorrow,
Love Jane x
VRAHASSI TRANSPORT 2008
MILK SHAKE IN VRAHASSI
You have to be up early to catch the milk man in Vrahassi. As you can see Lefteris (shepherd) has had a new stainless steal milk vat installed outside his shop. When it is full the tanker comes and takes the milk. (All mod. cons. in Vrahassi). Papa Nikos just happened to be passing and Father Christmas is still climbing the balcony.All my Christmas decorations are down and packed away for another year. With Chistmas and the New Year celebrations over we are now planning the future. Apokrias will be next, as far as I can see around about 2nd March. Maybe just the right time for a fancy dress party and a bit of 'rock n' roll'.
Monday, January 07, 2008
SUNNY JANUARY 7
Κρονια πολλα Γιαννη! Kronia polla Yanni!
Today is the name day for 'Yannis' so there are lots of celebrations today. And the sun has warmed our backs and our fronts and any part that we wished to expose. It has been a gloriously warm, sunny day and the forecast is for more of the same tomorrow and the day after. This weather is not unusual for this time of the year. David and I always pick our olives during the week after the Christmas holiday and we have always seemed to hit it right, being able to picnic in the olive groves, have a barbecue or simply sit with a glass of wine in hand before continuing with the work of gathering in the harvest. This year however we have no olives on our trees so while David was getting on with some other work, I took the opportunity (Monday my day off) to take a walk in the countryside. In fact I had two cracks at it. My first walk, this morning was just a short stroll up to the windmills and back home. Then, after I had done the washing and ironing (a great stack of it) I set off toward the Monastery along the main road. When I reached our little patch of trees I stopped to add stones to a wall which I am building, and which is steadily growing. Hopefully it will stop the man with the bulldozer from guzzling up any more of my land, it is a few year's now but that is what happened one day and boy was I mad. Anyway, just as the sun was going down along came Littlelegs after his day of burning and clearing, on his sturdy little scooter and I managed to get a lift home.
Tonight I shall put away the Xmas trimmings and take down the fairy lights. I'll dust and polish tomorrow, no good doing today what you can put off until tomorrow, that's what I say.
At the moment, David and I are both in the office, we did think about going out tonight but have changed our minds and instead we have decided to chill out at home with a good book and the electric blanket to warm our... (bed?). This seems to be the hour that the farmers are returning from work, the odd tractor passing, young bucks whizzing through the centre in souped up fiat pandas. The sun is down and the evening chill has set in. It is time to light the fire and put the kettle on. Across at Lefteris' cafeneon I can see George and another struggling to get George's dad into a car to take him home. George's dad is called Yiannis and I think he has been sitting at the cafeneo all day. He doesn't walk well at the best of times but today, after celebrating, he's not walking too well at all. (Ah I've been there myself in a past life). George has sped of after him on the scooter indicating that he will return. We shall all eat together later.
And, that in mind I had better get myself upstairs and prepare some food.
If you are reading this Diana, I visited your house today and 'my God' it is wonderful. You are really going to like living there. Meanwhile, the people buying ours have not come up with the money yet, though we live in hopes that it will happen soon. I continue to sleep in a half finished house and am steadily filtering my belongings into the room above the bar.
Yvonne, your mansion is getting bigger every day!
Gail, tomorrow is the big day (fingers crossed).
Ben, George has brought a letter to me saying your car tax is due - I'm sure you know this but just in case I mention it here. (Thanks for the card - best wishes to you too).
Hello to all from the Tesco crowd, don't know what I'd have done without the Bisto for my Roast Beef and Yorkshire Pudding dinners. All the best for 2008.
And a special 'Hello' to my three Grandchildren, Star, Jade and Jack, I'm so looking forward to seeing you first week in February. A big hug from Nannie Jane x
And, of course, not forgetting all my other readers, thank you for logging in and watch this space for the up coming serialization of my book.
Today is the name day for 'Yannis' so there are lots of celebrations today. And the sun has warmed our backs and our fronts and any part that we wished to expose. It has been a gloriously warm, sunny day and the forecast is for more of the same tomorrow and the day after. This weather is not unusual for this time of the year. David and I always pick our olives during the week after the Christmas holiday and we have always seemed to hit it right, being able to picnic in the olive groves, have a barbecue or simply sit with a glass of wine in hand before continuing with the work of gathering in the harvest. This year however we have no olives on our trees so while David was getting on with some other work, I took the opportunity (Monday my day off) to take a walk in the countryside. In fact I had two cracks at it. My first walk, this morning was just a short stroll up to the windmills and back home. Then, after I had done the washing and ironing (a great stack of it) I set off toward the Monastery along the main road. When I reached our little patch of trees I stopped to add stones to a wall which I am building, and which is steadily growing. Hopefully it will stop the man with the bulldozer from guzzling up any more of my land, it is a few year's now but that is what happened one day and boy was I mad. Anyway, just as the sun was going down along came Littlelegs after his day of burning and clearing, on his sturdy little scooter and I managed to get a lift home.
Tonight I shall put away the Xmas trimmings and take down the fairy lights. I'll dust and polish tomorrow, no good doing today what you can put off until tomorrow, that's what I say.
At the moment, David and I are both in the office, we did think about going out tonight but have changed our minds and instead we have decided to chill out at home with a good book and the electric blanket to warm our... (bed?). This seems to be the hour that the farmers are returning from work, the odd tractor passing, young bucks whizzing through the centre in souped up fiat pandas. The sun is down and the evening chill has set in. It is time to light the fire and put the kettle on. Across at Lefteris' cafeneon I can see George and another struggling to get George's dad into a car to take him home. George's dad is called Yiannis and I think he has been sitting at the cafeneo all day. He doesn't walk well at the best of times but today, after celebrating, he's not walking too well at all. (Ah I've been there myself in a past life). George has sped of after him on the scooter indicating that he will return. We shall all eat together later.
And, that in mind I had better get myself upstairs and prepare some food.
If you are reading this Diana, I visited your house today and 'my God' it is wonderful. You are really going to like living there. Meanwhile, the people buying ours have not come up with the money yet, though we live in hopes that it will happen soon. I continue to sleep in a half finished house and am steadily filtering my belongings into the room above the bar.
Yvonne, your mansion is getting bigger every day!
Gail, tomorrow is the big day (fingers crossed).
Ben, George has brought a letter to me saying your car tax is due - I'm sure you know this but just in case I mention it here. (Thanks for the card - best wishes to you too).
Hello to all from the Tesco crowd, don't know what I'd have done without the Bisto for my Roast Beef and Yorkshire Pudding dinners. All the best for 2008.
And a special 'Hello' to my three Grandchildren, Star, Jade and Jack, I'm so looking forward to seeing you first week in February. A big hug from Nannie Jane x
And, of course, not forgetting all my other readers, thank you for logging in and watch this space for the up coming serialization of my book.
Thursday, January 03, 2008
AND WE'RE OFF TO A RACING START!
(This is George on New Year's Eve singing the Greek New Year Song, and in very good voice too).Can you believe it? My little friend was drinking beer last night. He says that for the next few weeks he will be trying to cut down on the metaxa because he intends to have all his teeth (the ones that are remaining) out. He has had such pain with them over the past couple of months that I don't think he can go on any longer. The fact is that his new teeth are going to cost such a packet that he simply couldn't afford to have them done before now, but hopefully within the next couple of weeks he will have saved enough to pay the dentist and get rid of all that pain.
I went to Neapolis this morning to replenish the bar stock and do some food shopping ready for the weekend. It's cold today, and grey, and I spent the rest of the morning learning the words to Katie Melua's song 'Closest Thing To Crazy'. I've got the chord sequence and I am going to try putting piano to lyrics.
Little Legs popped in on his way home from work, he has been burning dead branches and stuff in the olive grove that he is clearing. David and his crew have just returned looking a bit cold and ready for a sit by a warming fire, Lefteris has just set out to feed his sheep and the main street of Vrahassi is looking abandoned. A Father Christmas doll climbing up a ladder on to a second floor balcony seems to be the only 'almost human' form about on this cold winter's afternoon. It is 3.30 p.m.
So, I think I will get on with a bit of preparation for Greek Class tomorrow. (2 p.m. all welcome) and then it will be time to make the bar cosy for the evening and maybe watch a good film.
Dates to remember... FEBRUARY 7th is Chinese New Year (Year of the Rat) and we are going to hose a Chinese New Year Banquet. Julia of Flowers of Crete shall be doing the food preparation and I shall organise the drinks. The maximum number is 20 and we only have a few places left so if you are interested get in touch with me to put your name on the list. The price of the evening (food and drink) will be 30 euro per person. It promises to be a wonderful event so if you feel like a Chinese slap up meal, let me know.
Also in February (date to be set) Our local Archaeologist, Mr Gavin MgGuire, will be giving a talk and slide show on the history of the Minoan People, especially those who lived in the area
of Vrahassi. As soon as we have set a date I shall publicise it, watch this space.
Meantime the bar is open every day except Monday, from 2 p.m. Food (of some sort) always available and Roast Beef and Yorkshire Pudding on Sundays as usual. Please ring to book a table if you can it helps me to know how many potatoes to peel.
Bye for now...
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
HAPPY NEW YEAR! AND THE BAND PLAYED ON.
A VERY HAPPY NEW YEAR TO ALLWell, I'm about pigged out, but there is still plenty of pig in the freezer. George did so well to buy a share of meat for the holiday period, however the leg of pork which I asked him to get so that I could do a roast dinner, actually came in about 12 pieces. 'Never mind' as they say. I have cooked some and very tasty it was too, just not a joint as we know it. Now Little Legs is waiting for a nice sunny day so that we can have a barbecue and get some of that belly pork down our necks.
ANNUAL CHRISTMAS EVENT! Ο Σηλογος εκοψε το βασιλοπιτα και μιρασε δωρα στα μικρα παιδια. Ο Αγιος Βασιλης ηταν εκει απο στις εξι η ωρα, και Ο Σηλογος προσφερει ποτα και γλυκα. (The Village Council cut the traditional New Year cake and gave out presents to the small children of the village. Father Christmas was there from 6 p.m. and drinks and sweets were offered to all who attended).
Our New Year got of to a brilliant start with a bar full of well wishers all day till late last night. Today has been quieter but I had a good walk around the village this morning with a few friends.
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