Well, because George and I had a row last night (well come on, this is Jane and George we are talking about) and because I arrived to take him to the dentist in Sissi 5 minutes late, he off and went on his scooter without a by your leave or a flipping telephone call.
But I have got very used to George and his little 'pets' so I just followed him down the mountain and waited for him in the Dentist's Surgury. He had a very big tooth out, it took half an hour, and when he got out of the Dentist's chair I think he was so glad to see me that all his grumbles of last night were never mentioned again.
So, one hour later we were all in the Accountant's office making our little agreement for bar number 2, everyone happy. George has now taken a couple of Paracetamol and gone off to bed to sleep off the pain. I, meanwhile have opened the bar and in a short while will get myself up the stairs to make some 'home made cake' and prepare dinner for tonight (something soft for George I suppose and a whacking brizola for David and me).
The weather is holding up though humidity is high and I suspect rain is on the way. Let's hope not because I want to do my walk on Monday. (10 a.m. at the statue in centre of Vrahassi if anyone would like to come with me - no charge).
There is not much going on in the village at the moment, (calm before the storm) but I dare say that any day now hoards of tourists will descend on us, either that or hoards of house buyers and, speaking of house buyers, yesterday I went to see a lovely old property on the edge of the village which I am sure will be snapped up, price round about 40,000 euro and well worth it. It has electric and water but of course it will need quite a lot spending on it, however for 80,000 euro it would make a superb Cretan residence. And, not only that, I have another house to go and photograph this weekend. (Click the link to Jane's House Shop opposite).
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
IT'S ONLY A STORY CONT...
(Please refer back for previous episodes)
CONT...
"I," began Yorgos, and that was enough to trigger the ego, "I am Yorgos, shepherd," he hesitated. "I am here... no... I was here... I am there... no... I was there... I am everywhere... er... that is... I am not FROM... I AM".
"Oh dear," sighed Zod. "We appear to have scooped up a floater. (Floater was the term that Zod gave to the demised whose soul was floating in the universe as part of 'The One'). They are not usually in dream time, and they certainly don't carry around the baggage of a body.
Yorgos began to fade a little.
"Well his light is none too bright," said Ay. (Not that he had any room to talk).
"Make a log, Ay. Captain's Log, Dream date 2046. Note the time he came aboard."
"Time," interrupted Yorgos attempting to twist his floating arm to see the face of his watch.
And that is when Zod noticed the unique design of a genuine 'Goldstime' creation. Not showing his utter joy at the sight he stepped forward and twisting his head to an almost upside down position, he managed to read the time. The watch showed one second to 13 and it had stopped. Zod was bursting with the passion of overwhelming delight. He wanted to jump over the Eiffle Tower, he wanted to bathe in the hot springs of Iceland, he wanted to hug Yorgos (but of course he couldn't as Yorgos was in pieces, all over the place, beside himself and... fading fast).
"YORGOS, THOU SHALT NOT LEAVE,"commanded Zod in such a loud, authoritative way that even Ay stood to attention. He seemed to get through to Yorgos, who froze momentarily like some instantly paralysed octopus. Zod couldn't contain himself. "The man is in extra time," he bellowed. I have found my first second Ay. Don't loose him Ay". There was a slight panic in Zod's voice. He ran to the controls pushing Ay to one side. He slammed a few instructions into the computer and a force field began to build around Yorgos. Zod hoped to contain whatever part of Yorgos he had captured until he could rationalize what to do next. How could he use this sheep dreamer who had obviously entered 'extra time', to help him in his quest to discover the whereabouts of Goldstime's dream-bubble?
"It's the freezer for him Ay." bellowed the Dreamcatcher. "Down the temperature, that should keep him rigid".
**********************************************************************************
Maisie had always enjoyed the company of the shepherds. They were uncomplicated beings who drank themselves silly, ate lots of tasty titbits (usually those bits of sheep and goats that the shops didn't sell) and had a great urge to leap on any woman they saw, fat, thin, pretty, ugly, young or old. And, if there urges were not satisfied by the time they went back to their flock... well there were always sheep.
Anyway, Maisie went to see Yorgos (real-time man). It was partly out of friendship and partly out of curiosity because the talk in the village was such that she did not know exactly what to believe so wanted to see the situation for herself. She didn't have to knock on the door, it was already open with crowds of people milling around the bed as though poor Yorgos was a corpse in his coffin. She pushed her way through and reached his side. His eyes were closed but they seemed to be rolling around in their sockets as though he were in some exciting dream. As for the rest of his body, it was as still as stone, and alarmingly, quite cold to the touch. She sat on the bed and took hold of his hand. Yorgos' mother, who had always respected Maisie and who had always believed that, being English, Maisie would have pills and potions that were much better than the Vlahassi ones, made way to let her sit down. But what could Maisie do but sit and look, just like the others. She stayed for a cup of coffee and a biscuit and then went home. It did not bother Maisie that the village was now talking about her. She was genuinely concerned and, as a friend hoped that she could trigger some memory so she visited his bedside again the next morning.
Papa Dimitris also visited Yorgos, as did Dr Kurakis and Yorgos' mother paid constant attention to him; she washed him, combed his hair and did her best to trickle soup into his mouth from a teaspoon.
Apart from the Yorgos household the rest of the village carried on, in its sheep consumed way, as usual.
**********************************************************************************
Zod had to do something drastic. 'I'm going to land," he announced. "Set a course for Vlahassi Ay, we are taking this chap home."
"I... is that w...wise?" stammered Ay. "T...time's about f...face you know'.
"SIR," boomed Zod, "I am in command here, gird yee thy loins and be yee not afraid. Our quest is most urgent and uncommon deed must surely be our highway".
Ay set a course for earth. He pinpointed Vlahassi and headed the ship straight towards it.
********************************************************************************
CONT...
"I," began Yorgos, and that was enough to trigger the ego, "I am Yorgos, shepherd," he hesitated. "I am here... no... I was here... I am there... no... I was there... I am everywhere... er... that is... I am not FROM... I AM".
"Oh dear," sighed Zod. "We appear to have scooped up a floater. (Floater was the term that Zod gave to the demised whose soul was floating in the universe as part of 'The One'). They are not usually in dream time, and they certainly don't carry around the baggage of a body.
Yorgos began to fade a little.
"Well his light is none too bright," said Ay. (Not that he had any room to talk).
"Make a log, Ay. Captain's Log, Dream date 2046. Note the time he came aboard."
"Time," interrupted Yorgos attempting to twist his floating arm to see the face of his watch.
And that is when Zod noticed the unique design of a genuine 'Goldstime' creation. Not showing his utter joy at the sight he stepped forward and twisting his head to an almost upside down position, he managed to read the time. The watch showed one second to 13 and it had stopped. Zod was bursting with the passion of overwhelming delight. He wanted to jump over the Eiffle Tower, he wanted to bathe in the hot springs of Iceland, he wanted to hug Yorgos (but of course he couldn't as Yorgos was in pieces, all over the place, beside himself and... fading fast).
"YORGOS, THOU SHALT NOT LEAVE,"commanded Zod in such a loud, authoritative way that even Ay stood to attention. He seemed to get through to Yorgos, who froze momentarily like some instantly paralysed octopus. Zod couldn't contain himself. "The man is in extra time," he bellowed. I have found my first second Ay. Don't loose him Ay". There was a slight panic in Zod's voice. He ran to the controls pushing Ay to one side. He slammed a few instructions into the computer and a force field began to build around Yorgos. Zod hoped to contain whatever part of Yorgos he had captured until he could rationalize what to do next. How could he use this sheep dreamer who had obviously entered 'extra time', to help him in his quest to discover the whereabouts of Goldstime's dream-bubble?
"It's the freezer for him Ay." bellowed the Dreamcatcher. "Down the temperature, that should keep him rigid".
**********************************************************************************
Maisie had always enjoyed the company of the shepherds. They were uncomplicated beings who drank themselves silly, ate lots of tasty titbits (usually those bits of sheep and goats that the shops didn't sell) and had a great urge to leap on any woman they saw, fat, thin, pretty, ugly, young or old. And, if there urges were not satisfied by the time they went back to their flock... well there were always sheep.
Anyway, Maisie went to see Yorgos (real-time man). It was partly out of friendship and partly out of curiosity because the talk in the village was such that she did not know exactly what to believe so wanted to see the situation for herself. She didn't have to knock on the door, it was already open with crowds of people milling around the bed as though poor Yorgos was a corpse in his coffin. She pushed her way through and reached his side. His eyes were closed but they seemed to be rolling around in their sockets as though he were in some exciting dream. As for the rest of his body, it was as still as stone, and alarmingly, quite cold to the touch. She sat on the bed and took hold of his hand. Yorgos' mother, who had always respected Maisie and who had always believed that, being English, Maisie would have pills and potions that were much better than the Vlahassi ones, made way to let her sit down. But what could Maisie do but sit and look, just like the others. She stayed for a cup of coffee and a biscuit and then went home. It did not bother Maisie that the village was now talking about her. She was genuinely concerned and, as a friend hoped that she could trigger some memory so she visited his bedside again the next morning.
Papa Dimitris also visited Yorgos, as did Dr Kurakis and Yorgos' mother paid constant attention to him; she washed him, combed his hair and did her best to trickle soup into his mouth from a teaspoon.
Apart from the Yorgos household the rest of the village carried on, in its sheep consumed way, as usual.
**********************************************************************************
Zod had to do something drastic. 'I'm going to land," he announced. "Set a course for Vlahassi Ay, we are taking this chap home."
"I... is that w...wise?" stammered Ay. "T...time's about f...face you know'.
"SIR," boomed Zod, "I am in command here, gird yee thy loins and be yee not afraid. Our quest is most urgent and uncommon deed must surely be our highway".
Ay set a course for earth. He pinpointed Vlahassi and headed the ship straight towards it.
********************************************************************************
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
THE COMFORT ZONE!
Oh how wonderful the Spring is! Even though we may get some grey days yet in between I know that there will be blue skies like today. Just right for putting my plans into action. I am to create a 'comfort zone'. New things are afoot for the business and as predicted 2008 is going to be our best year to date.
Our house is sold and we are moving out daily. Every time we leave the house we pack a bag and transport it to the room above the bar where we shall live for the summer. At least we wont have far to fall into bed after the late nights of CRETAN MUSIC. Like last year we shall be having Live Music and Barbecued Pork Chop at least once a month (get yer dancing shoes ready).
THEN THERE ARE THE WALKS - no I haven't given up walking! Anavlohos walks provide a wonderful opportunity to see the countryside, identify wild flowers, breathe the fresh air and spend a wonderful day learning the history of the area. With a communal table of fresh Cretan food and wine to round of the day who could want for anything more?
Starting next week (weather permitting) there will be a MONASTERY WALK on Monday 3rd March. I will set off at 10 a.m. from the statue in the middle of Vrahassi. Those wanting to join me just turn up with good shoes, bottle of water and sense of humour. There is no charge for the walk as it will be the first of the season. Please join me.
THAT IS MONDAY 3rd MARCH - 10 A.M. CENTRE OF VRAHASSI
Our house is sold and we are moving out daily. Every time we leave the house we pack a bag and transport it to the room above the bar where we shall live for the summer. At least we wont have far to fall into bed after the late nights of CRETAN MUSIC. Like last year we shall be having Live Music and Barbecued Pork Chop at least once a month (get yer dancing shoes ready).
THEN THERE ARE THE WALKS - no I haven't given up walking! Anavlohos walks provide a wonderful opportunity to see the countryside, identify wild flowers, breathe the fresh air and spend a wonderful day learning the history of the area. With a communal table of fresh Cretan food and wine to round of the day who could want for anything more?
Starting next week (weather permitting) there will be a MONASTERY WALK on Monday 3rd March. I will set off at 10 a.m. from the statue in the middle of Vrahassi. Those wanting to join me just turn up with good shoes, bottle of water and sense of humour. There is no charge for the walk as it will be the first of the season. Please join me.
THAT IS MONDAY 3rd MARCH - 10 A.M. CENTRE OF VRAHASSI
Monday, February 25, 2008
THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK!
Of we go again! The cogs of the Universe have turned and 2008 looks like it is going to be an exciting year for me and for Vrahassi.
I am to add to my Empire and open another bar. This one will be on street level so will be much better for all those who hate stairs. Of course the Revolution Bar will still be operating as usual with our lovely shady outside space for those long warm sunny days. The upstairs bar will become a NO SMOKING 'comfort zone' for summer evening cocktails and Bar number 2 (just across the road from Bar number 1) will be the perfect place for Raki and Meze. Lydia will be joining the team and between us we shall make you very welcome when you visit Vrahassi.
Our extention bar will be open mid March so watch this space for details of our official opening night. Before then I hope to see as many of you as possible at the HISTORY TALK given by Mr Gavin McGuire our local Archaeologist working with the American School. This will be a very informative evening and one which I am sure you won't want to miss.
FRIDAY 7 MARCH AT 7.30 p.m. at the REVOLUTION BAR - A FEW STEPS BACK IN TIME, a talk and slide show given by Mr Gavin McGuire, Archaeologist.
I am to add to my Empire and open another bar. This one will be on street level so will be much better for all those who hate stairs. Of course the Revolution Bar will still be operating as usual with our lovely shady outside space for those long warm sunny days. The upstairs bar will become a NO SMOKING 'comfort zone' for summer evening cocktails and Bar number 2 (just across the road from Bar number 1) will be the perfect place for Raki and Meze. Lydia will be joining the team and between us we shall make you very welcome when you visit Vrahassi.
Our extention bar will be open mid March so watch this space for details of our official opening night. Before then I hope to see as many of you as possible at the HISTORY TALK given by Mr Gavin McGuire our local Archaeologist working with the American School. This will be a very informative evening and one which I am sure you won't want to miss.
FRIDAY 7 MARCH AT 7.30 p.m. at the REVOLUTION BAR - A FEW STEPS BACK IN TIME, a talk and slide show given by Mr Gavin McGuire, Archaeologist.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
THE FAMILY SHARP BLOGGED!
CELEBRATING OUR FIRST 40 YEARS TOGETHER WITH DAVID'S FAMILY IN ENGLAND.
************************************************************************************
...with our son and family and our daughter and family.
Jack, Jade (the rainbow fairy) and Star (the computer expert).
It was a fantastic trip to England (and we saw a few friends too). It's our 40th wedding anniversary in August but because we shall be busy working at that time we had an early celebration.
************************************************************************************
...with our son and family and our daughter and family.
3 WONDERFUL GRANDCHILDREN.
Jack, Jade (the rainbow fairy) and Star (the computer expert).
*************************************************************************************
...with my sister and family and a passing centurian.
It was a fantastic trip to England (and we saw a few friends too). It's our 40th wedding anniversary in August but because we shall be busy working at that time we had an early celebration.
And to all those people that we just didn't have time to see, we send our love and can only say sorry but every minute of our trip was itinerized from Gatwick to Manchester to Northumberland to West Yorkshire to South Yorkshire, to London (Penge) and back to Gatwick and we could not have possibly squeezed any more in, (next time eh!)
SUNDAY LUNCH AS USUAL
So, enough story telling for now. What is happening in Vrahassi? Well, the sun has been shining all day even though there has been a sneaky coldness about. I'm not sure who did it but my mulbery tree has been pruned and I am very grateful for it. I thing a man from the Council came along because Yannis' mulberry tree has been pruned too. Anyway it is up to me now to get a brush out and start sweeping up all the leaves and dead branches that are littering my pergola. More days like today and people may want to sit outside.
Lydia tells me that the postman has given her a key for one of the post boxes so I wonder if he will still deliver as much post to me or whether all the English residents will get a post box on the street. I have a huge pile of mail awaitiing collection from holiday home owners much of it bin fodder I am sure.
There is that feeling of 'wanting to spring clean' in the air but I think we may be in for a bit of rain yet. It is still cold in the evenings but the bar is warm and we have our electric blanket warming the bed.
The Chinese night was a huge success so Julie and I have decided to stick to the programme of food- fest evenings the next one being on the 17th March - St Patrick's Day (also my daughter's birthday). That should be good for a laugh, Irish music, Guinness, (menu later) and an odd gigg or two, all Leprachauns free of charge. BUT BEFORE THEN...
SUNDAY LUNCH - served as usual from 2 p.m. (it is best to book a table - 6945 872472
followed by CHELSEA v TOTENHAM 5p.m. at the REVOLUTION BAR, Vrahassi. All supporters welcome.
SATURDAY 1st MARCH - ST DAVID'S DAY (well we've got to celebrate that haven't we?) Curry on the menu for those who want it.
FRIDAY 7 MARCH - Mr Gavin McGuire, resident of Vrahassi and Archaeologist working with the American School, will give a talk and slide show, about the History of the Area from the time of the Minoans. Don't miss this opportunity to talk to an expert about the area in which you live.
Then it is APOKRIAS and hopefully we shall Masquerade in Vrahassi, details later.
MONDAY 17th MARCH - ST PATRICK'S DAY and a special IRISH FOODFEST event (I promise not to miss this one if I can help it).
PHEW! Looks like March will be a busy month but I have to say that April looks even busier so watch this space for details.
Lydia tells me that the postman has given her a key for one of the post boxes so I wonder if he will still deliver as much post to me or whether all the English residents will get a post box on the street. I have a huge pile of mail awaitiing collection from holiday home owners much of it bin fodder I am sure.
There is that feeling of 'wanting to spring clean' in the air but I think we may be in for a bit of rain yet. It is still cold in the evenings but the bar is warm and we have our electric blanket warming the bed.
The Chinese night was a huge success so Julie and I have decided to stick to the programme of food- fest evenings the next one being on the 17th March - St Patrick's Day (also my daughter's birthday). That should be good for a laugh, Irish music, Guinness, (menu later) and an odd gigg or two, all Leprachauns free of charge. BUT BEFORE THEN...
SUNDAY LUNCH - served as usual from 2 p.m. (it is best to book a table - 6945 872472
followed by CHELSEA v TOTENHAM 5p.m. at the REVOLUTION BAR, Vrahassi. All supporters welcome.
SATURDAY 1st MARCH - ST DAVID'S DAY (well we've got to celebrate that haven't we?) Curry on the menu for those who want it.
FRIDAY 7 MARCH - Mr Gavin McGuire, resident of Vrahassi and Archaeologist working with the American School, will give a talk and slide show, about the History of the Area from the time of the Minoans. Don't miss this opportunity to talk to an expert about the area in which you live.
Then it is APOKRIAS and hopefully we shall Masquerade in Vrahassi, details later.
MONDAY 17th MARCH - ST PATRICK'S DAY and a special IRISH FOODFEST event (I promise not to miss this one if I can help it).
PHEW! Looks like March will be a busy month but I have to say that April looks even busier so watch this space for details.
IT'S ONLY A STORY - A BIT MORE
cont...
(Please see below for previous writing of 'It's Only a Story').
The Dream Catcher meanwhile was in the process of developing a scanner to help him locate Mr Goldstime's dream of a vault full of extra time. He knew that it must be out there somewhere. If only he could access the extra-time dimension then his problem would be solved. There must be millions of dreams in extra-time by now, just waiting to be snatched and added to his treasure of possibilities. He was making Ay's life hell. Bring me this, fetch me that, press the red button not the blue one. So engrossed in his quest was he that he almost lost the plot. But as with most occurrences of chance he decided that he would leave the scanner for the time being and concentrate on looking for things that might clog up his works. He must always be vigilant; after all it was summer and a time of Brobdingnagian dreams.
Zod was quite aware of Maisie's wobbly nightmare and had set up a radar-like scan to warn him of any such bad dreams that he definitely did not want in a million light hears of his high=tech storage unit. "Nightmare sweep on," he bellowed. But he was totally unprepared for the fizz and fuzzzz that entered his range of sweep. It wasn't a dream, it wasn't a nightmare, it was... oh golloping cod! "Deflectors up Ay," he commanded. But too late. The 'out of body' had been scooped up and deposited aboard his craft. With a tumble and splash of incandescent froth, the fragile, multiprismed balloon burst and Yorgos spread-eagled onto the floor.
If only Goldstime had not tested his watch on the shepherds of Vlahassi things may have gone smoother but, as with most things, someone or something always seemed to come along to gung up the works. Yorgos had really gunged up the works. Because his watch had stopped in extra-time, and because he had had his cataclysmic thought in time that did not exist, he had somehow got himself trapped in his own dream bubble. Now released from that bubble his link to body had been severed and that in itself was more devastating to the universe than the flap of an opera singer's tonsils.
Zod had his share of the trouble. Not being a dream, Yorgos could not be downloaded into the virtual reality computer. Not being a nightmare he could not be trashed, and not being in real-time it appeared that he was neither here nor there and due to this he dept disappearing and reappearing in a very disconcerting shift of molecules that formed his shape-shifting, unstable, out of body.
***********************************************************************************
...And while all that was going on, talk in the cafeneon was rife. Yorgos had had a stroke. Yorgos had been hit by freak lightening. Yorgos was stoned... again. Would he recover? Never, it's too late. He's lost it. The village on the whole had Yorgos in his coffin. DrKyrakis said that he could be in this state for a long time. He had known people go into coma for years but Yorgos was not in a coma, he simply wasn't IN at all.
Yorgos was definitely not answering the door. Though his body was safely tucked up in bed and he had a surreal smile on his face, his mind was struggling with a new reality; that of being outside time. Unsynchronized and in the confines of Zod's dream catching vessel he looked around him quite unaware that he had become ghostlike in appearance. In fact he was very ghost-like in appearance and both Zod and Ay recoiled in fright at the hovering apparition whose detached limbs seemed to be held together with invisible string like a puppet in the hands of some inexperienced puppeteer. Yorgos just had not got it together at all. But he was working on it. With a little bit of concentration he would be able to gather himself. Concentration was something totally new to Yorgos but his new power of thought had allowed him to know exactly who he was and where he, eventually, was going. Zod and Ay looked on in amazement as the spirit of Yorgos reassembled itself to become the shepherd that a split second before had been dozing on a warm rock.
"Hoooh!" (a prolonge SHOO without the S). 'Hoooh', he shook himself like Fido just out of the bath. "Heeeh", (like SHE without the S). "An...a...thi...ma...," (which is Greek for 'dam it') he growled in a deep neo-Neanderthal way. He looked suspiciously around him, and then in total bewilderment and slight anger he shouted: "F.ck the Virgin Mary, where the devil am I?"
You Sir, with a mouth as vile as a soggy cucumber, are aboard the D. S. Sir Christopher Cockerell. Uninvited I might add so be so kind as to tell me from whence you came and by what name you are known. The dream catcher was weaned on Don Quixote's dreams and Star Trek and thus had developed a strange style which hung between Knight Errant and Spok. 'You don't look like a shepherd, and you don't smell like a shepherd but by the Grady Ma you sound like one.' Be so good Sir as to clean up thy speech aboard my ship."
(Please see below for previous writing of 'It's Only a Story').
The Dream Catcher meanwhile was in the process of developing a scanner to help him locate Mr Goldstime's dream of a vault full of extra time. He knew that it must be out there somewhere. If only he could access the extra-time dimension then his problem would be solved. There must be millions of dreams in extra-time by now, just waiting to be snatched and added to his treasure of possibilities. He was making Ay's life hell. Bring me this, fetch me that, press the red button not the blue one. So engrossed in his quest was he that he almost lost the plot. But as with most occurrences of chance he decided that he would leave the scanner for the time being and concentrate on looking for things that might clog up his works. He must always be vigilant; after all it was summer and a time of Brobdingnagian dreams.
Zod was quite aware of Maisie's wobbly nightmare and had set up a radar-like scan to warn him of any such bad dreams that he definitely did not want in a million light hears of his high=tech storage unit. "Nightmare sweep on," he bellowed. But he was totally unprepared for the fizz and fuzzzz that entered his range of sweep. It wasn't a dream, it wasn't a nightmare, it was... oh golloping cod! "Deflectors up Ay," he commanded. But too late. The 'out of body' had been scooped up and deposited aboard his craft. With a tumble and splash of incandescent froth, the fragile, multiprismed balloon burst and Yorgos spread-eagled onto the floor.
If only Goldstime had not tested his watch on the shepherds of Vlahassi things may have gone smoother but, as with most things, someone or something always seemed to come along to gung up the works. Yorgos had really gunged up the works. Because his watch had stopped in extra-time, and because he had had his cataclysmic thought in time that did not exist, he had somehow got himself trapped in his own dream bubble. Now released from that bubble his link to body had been severed and that in itself was more devastating to the universe than the flap of an opera singer's tonsils.
Zod had his share of the trouble. Not being a dream, Yorgos could not be downloaded into the virtual reality computer. Not being a nightmare he could not be trashed, and not being in real-time it appeared that he was neither here nor there and due to this he dept disappearing and reappearing in a very disconcerting shift of molecules that formed his shape-shifting, unstable, out of body.
***********************************************************************************
...And while all that was going on, talk in the cafeneon was rife. Yorgos had had a stroke. Yorgos had been hit by freak lightening. Yorgos was stoned... again. Would he recover? Never, it's too late. He's lost it. The village on the whole had Yorgos in his coffin. DrKyrakis said that he could be in this state for a long time. He had known people go into coma for years but Yorgos was not in a coma, he simply wasn't IN at all.
Yorgos was definitely not answering the door. Though his body was safely tucked up in bed and he had a surreal smile on his face, his mind was struggling with a new reality; that of being outside time. Unsynchronized and in the confines of Zod's dream catching vessel he looked around him quite unaware that he had become ghostlike in appearance. In fact he was very ghost-like in appearance and both Zod and Ay recoiled in fright at the hovering apparition whose detached limbs seemed to be held together with invisible string like a puppet in the hands of some inexperienced puppeteer. Yorgos just had not got it together at all. But he was working on it. With a little bit of concentration he would be able to gather himself. Concentration was something totally new to Yorgos but his new power of thought had allowed him to know exactly who he was and where he, eventually, was going. Zod and Ay looked on in amazement as the spirit of Yorgos reassembled itself to become the shepherd that a split second before had been dozing on a warm rock.
"Hoooh!" (a prolonge SHOO without the S). 'Hoooh', he shook himself like Fido just out of the bath. "Heeeh", (like SHE without the S). "An...a...thi...ma...," (which is Greek for 'dam it') he growled in a deep neo-Neanderthal way. He looked suspiciously around him, and then in total bewilderment and slight anger he shouted: "F.ck the Virgin Mary, where the devil am I?"
You Sir, with a mouth as vile as a soggy cucumber, are aboard the D. S. Sir Christopher Cockerell. Uninvited I might add so be so kind as to tell me from whence you came and by what name you are known. The dream catcher was weaned on Don Quixote's dreams and Star Trek and thus had developed a strange style which hung between Knight Errant and Spok. 'You don't look like a shepherd, and you don't smell like a shepherd but by the Grady Ma you sound like one.' Be so good Sir as to clean up thy speech aboard my ship."
Monday, February 18, 2008
IT'S ONLY A STORY - CONT...
(Remember this is all FICTION, all the characters and places that are in this story are purely fictitious).
cont...
Meanwhile Yorgos, the expanding consciousness of Yorgos, was trying to come to terms with his newly enlighteded self.
Once past the thought-cloud of sheep that hung around Vlavlahos, Yorgos travelled on in his bubble. Oh he was shaky at first and he could not grasp the here and now because he was here, there and everywhere at the same time. His brain adjusted to one view, only to be cast into another and the bubble became a kaleidoscope of jellified mirror images. The brightest of light hit each surface and rainbow flashes bounced and sparked to create some sort of quark hurtling between time.
So, what was the thought had had caused Yorgos' mind to suddenly whoop into such activity? It had certainly been a time stopper. What had caused that instantaneous duplication of cerebral plasma, (or indeed had the duplication of Yorgos' brain cell been the cause of this thought, which had so shockingly transported a simple shepherd into a sublime state of quaquaversal being?)? Well, don't forget we are talking shepherd's here. What to you and me may seem trivia, can (as was proved) be of mind blowing proportions to others. And, as was also proved, all the universal Theorems, Quantum, Academically accelerated euphemismas that have proceeded from multicellular brains have in fact missed the point altogether. The route to discovery is simplicity.
Yorgos' vision had been, well, more of an abstracted vision really; a vision stripped to its bare root; a vision of infinite simplicity; a vision of unequivocal enlightenment. Minimal, oh yes, as minimal as they come. Yorgos had seen... his future!
Now it doesn't really matter what Yorgos actually saw, (and it is doubtful that anyone will ever find out), the important thing is the effect that it had on him. It could have been a weeping madonna: it could have been a stigmatic bleeding palm. The fact is that Yorgos saw something that he had never seen before, and the sight of it had been such a shock that it had kick started his mind. Unfortunately, or fortunately for Yorgos, this great awakening had happened in unreal time, and now his watch had stopped and he had separated from the real-time Yorgos. The new, conscious Yorgos had been jettisoned far above the sheep- dream bubble that fogged the mountain village of Vlahassi and was hurtling uncontrollably here, there and everywhere.
cont...
Meanwhile Yorgos, the expanding consciousness of Yorgos, was trying to come to terms with his newly enlighteded self.
Once past the thought-cloud of sheep that hung around Vlavlahos, Yorgos travelled on in his bubble. Oh he was shaky at first and he could not grasp the here and now because he was here, there and everywhere at the same time. His brain adjusted to one view, only to be cast into another and the bubble became a kaleidoscope of jellified mirror images. The brightest of light hit each surface and rainbow flashes bounced and sparked to create some sort of quark hurtling between time.
So, what was the thought had had caused Yorgos' mind to suddenly whoop into such activity? It had certainly been a time stopper. What had caused that instantaneous duplication of cerebral plasma, (or indeed had the duplication of Yorgos' brain cell been the cause of this thought, which had so shockingly transported a simple shepherd into a sublime state of quaquaversal being?)? Well, don't forget we are talking shepherd's here. What to you and me may seem trivia, can (as was proved) be of mind blowing proportions to others. And, as was also proved, all the universal Theorems, Quantum, Academically accelerated euphemismas that have proceeded from multicellular brains have in fact missed the point altogether. The route to discovery is simplicity.
Yorgos' vision had been, well, more of an abstracted vision really; a vision stripped to its bare root; a vision of infinite simplicity; a vision of unequivocal enlightenment. Minimal, oh yes, as minimal as they come. Yorgos had seen... his future!
Now it doesn't really matter what Yorgos actually saw, (and it is doubtful that anyone will ever find out), the important thing is the effect that it had on him. It could have been a weeping madonna: it could have been a stigmatic bleeding palm. The fact is that Yorgos saw something that he had never seen before, and the sight of it had been such a shock that it had kick started his mind. Unfortunately, or fortunately for Yorgos, this great awakening had happened in unreal time, and now his watch had stopped and he had separated from the real-time Yorgos. The new, conscious Yorgos had been jettisoned far above the sheep- dream bubble that fogged the mountain village of Vlahassi and was hurtling uncontrollably here, there and everywhere.
THE WONDERFUL FROZEN SOUTH
What a wonderful trip we had, not only did we travel the length and breadth of England but due to the Airport strike in Athens on the way back we re-routed to Venice and from there made our way by Minoan Lines ferry to Patra, on by bus to Athens and two days later got on a plane back to Crete. It was blue skies all the way, England right back to Athens and then...
Vrahassi is now snow bound and IT IS COLD! My water pipes are frozen up and I am huddled over the computer in about ten layers of woolies. Don't come to Vrahassi today! I am trying to get a picture up but the programme is not responding (I know the feeling).
Vrahassi is now snow bound and IT IS COLD! My water pipes are frozen up and I am huddled over the computer in about ten layers of woolies. Don't come to Vrahassi today! I am trying to get a picture up but the programme is not responding (I know the feeling).
Friday, February 01, 2008
AND NOW FOR SOMETHING YOU'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR...!
I'm back.
Sorry for the absence readers but first we had a 24 hour power cut, and after that I seem to have been none-stop getting ready for my England trip.
Well, it is 7.30 p.m. Friday and we have to be up early tomorrow to go to the airport (Lydia will take us). So you may not hear from me for a few days. Sure if I can get to a computer then I will let you all know what I am doing, but as this is a Vrahassi blog I'm sure you are not interested in my adventures in England. So, just to give you a bit of reading while I am away, here is the next part of...
IT'S JUST A STORY. (for those of you who are new to my blog, please scroll down and read from the beginning.
Maisie spent her time discussing whether things were happening now, happened in the past (once or continuously or at the same time as something else was happening) or happened in the future, or rather, would happen in the future (only once or continuously). And the amount of time she spent on this was unbelievable. Maisie was, unhappily, a language teacher. I say unhappily because her class was a group of fourteen year old smartarse Vlahassians who didn't really care when things happened so long as things happened. They were not short of language but it was, most of the time, bad language. Bad language to Maisie was like some horrible green canker which smelt like bile, had maggots creep-crawling about in it and the sound of big black flies feasting on it. But try as she mingt she could not get her adolescent students to understand the concept of good language. They were the class from Persephone's pit. Theywere the cause of her headaches. They gave her nightmares.
Maisie's worst nightmare was that the whole wolrld would sooon be full of people like the class from Persephone's pit. All using bad language which eventually would evolve, as language does, into some hybrid form of communication only understood by the illiterate who would by that time rule the world. She had one nightmare in particular that recurred. It was that whenever she opened heer mouth she said things back to front or inside out or upside down and her verbs were always in the present participle. It sounded like this: 'to going me yesterday,'' or 'tomorrow I being to having off me." Most nights she went to sleep and entered this world of unacceptable syntax. Maisie's dream bubble trembled in some sort of stress-state that Zod's sensors picked up and automatically knew to avoid.
"I've got to divert my mind," Maisie said to herself. "I haven't had a good night's sleep for ages. She tried hot cocoa; it only made the dreams worse. She tried sleeping pills and found that she was so tired that she was cat-napping during the day and dreaming twice as much. She tried yoga, jogging, swimming, watching TV, nibbling a biscuit before she went to bed, not eating anything after six o'clock, but all to no avail. As soon as goldilocks hit slumber she slipped into her nightmare.
**********************************************************************************
Dr Kurakis should have retired several years ago, seeing as most of the people with more than one brain cell had left the mountain for pastures new long ago but he still had a part to play in the village. He didn't really do any doctoring but he provided a place where all the old biddies could gather and moan about their stiff joints and catch up with the weekly gossip. Dr Kurakis was pushing eighty if he was a day: he had a big, fleshy growth over his right eye, stooped slightly, had Mozart type hair, which was thin, grey and longish and was always lank and greasy: he wore a dark grey suit day and night, which he probably had had specially tailored for his daughter's wedding; he carried a small leather doctor's bag and generally looked quite eccentric. In the bag there was an obligatory stethoscope and a very ancient sphygmomanometer.
Dr Kurakis was well respected. His house was full of books and, whether he had read them or not, this was a just reason to revere the man. Whether he ever actually cured anyone was something else. When he wasn't at his surgery he wass tending his beans or else sitting in the cafeneon drinking raki with the shepherds. He was in the cafeneon when Takis came blundering in with news of Yorgos.
Takis, who had not been blessed with over bright parents was an even shorter than most Vlahassian, with large feet, shovel-like hands and thick, round, black rimmed glasses. What's more he stuttered and spat saliva all over the place when he spoke so it was difficult for him to make the cafeneio-crowd understand. When they finally did get the gist of his babble there was instant panic. yorgos had been found in some sort of trance-like state. In the words of his brother, who by now had entered the scene, "In a world of his own". Yorgos was walking but didn't know where to. He was talking but no-one had any idea to whom he spoke. He was conscious but at the smae time totally unconscious of his earthly surroundings. Manolis had brought him into the village. He had found him thus, wandering around with the sheep, muttering over and over "here, there and everywhere, here there, and everywhere, here, there and everywhere, here, there and everywhere," like some record stuck in the groove.
People crowded around the two brothers as the one led the other into the cafeneon where Dr Kurakis was already on his third karafachi o f raki. Out came the stethoscope. out came the sphygmomanometer. All were silent in anticipation of the diagnosis. Dr Kurakis rocked slightly. "The man's not at home," he said, "the man's definitely not at home". He gigled slightly, which was a llittle disconcerting for the family, who were naturally upset, but they had every faith in the doctor, he was after all, a man of leaning and he would know exactly what to do. His suggestion therefore that they take Yorgos home and put him to bed to sleep it off, seemed wise. So that is exactly what they did. They tucked him up safely in his bed and waited for his senses to return.
**********************************************************************************
Sorry for any spelling mistakes but spell check wont work for some reason. I'll be back on the 13th February so until then
HAVE A BRILLIANT CHINESE NEW YEAR ON THE 7TH
AND A BIG, BIG, BIG, THANK YOU GERALD FOR SENDING THE PARCEL OF GOODIES WHAT A WONDERFUL SURPRISE - HAVE A GOOD ONE,
Love Jane x
Sorry for the absence readers but first we had a 24 hour power cut, and after that I seem to have been none-stop getting ready for my England trip.
Well, it is 7.30 p.m. Friday and we have to be up early tomorrow to go to the airport (Lydia will take us). So you may not hear from me for a few days. Sure if I can get to a computer then I will let you all know what I am doing, but as this is a Vrahassi blog I'm sure you are not interested in my adventures in England. So, just to give you a bit of reading while I am away, here is the next part of...
IT'S JUST A STORY. (for those of you who are new to my blog, please scroll down and read from the beginning.
Maisie spent her time discussing whether things were happening now, happened in the past (once or continuously or at the same time as something else was happening) or happened in the future, or rather, would happen in the future (only once or continuously). And the amount of time she spent on this was unbelievable. Maisie was, unhappily, a language teacher. I say unhappily because her class was a group of fourteen year old smartarse Vlahassians who didn't really care when things happened so long as things happened. They were not short of language but it was, most of the time, bad language. Bad language to Maisie was like some horrible green canker which smelt like bile, had maggots creep-crawling about in it and the sound of big black flies feasting on it. But try as she mingt she could not get her adolescent students to understand the concept of good language. They were the class from Persephone's pit. Theywere the cause of her headaches. They gave her nightmares.
Maisie's worst nightmare was that the whole wolrld would sooon be full of people like the class from Persephone's pit. All using bad language which eventually would evolve, as language does, into some hybrid form of communication only understood by the illiterate who would by that time rule the world. She had one nightmare in particular that recurred. It was that whenever she opened heer mouth she said things back to front or inside out or upside down and her verbs were always in the present participle. It sounded like this: 'to going me yesterday,'' or 'tomorrow I being to having off me." Most nights she went to sleep and entered this world of unacceptable syntax. Maisie's dream bubble trembled in some sort of stress-state that Zod's sensors picked up and automatically knew to avoid.
"I've got to divert my mind," Maisie said to herself. "I haven't had a good night's sleep for ages. She tried hot cocoa; it only made the dreams worse. She tried sleeping pills and found that she was so tired that she was cat-napping during the day and dreaming twice as much. She tried yoga, jogging, swimming, watching TV, nibbling a biscuit before she went to bed, not eating anything after six o'clock, but all to no avail. As soon as goldilocks hit slumber she slipped into her nightmare.
**********************************************************************************
Dr Kurakis should have retired several years ago, seeing as most of the people with more than one brain cell had left the mountain for pastures new long ago but he still had a part to play in the village. He didn't really do any doctoring but he provided a place where all the old biddies could gather and moan about their stiff joints and catch up with the weekly gossip. Dr Kurakis was pushing eighty if he was a day: he had a big, fleshy growth over his right eye, stooped slightly, had Mozart type hair, which was thin, grey and longish and was always lank and greasy: he wore a dark grey suit day and night, which he probably had had specially tailored for his daughter's wedding; he carried a small leather doctor's bag and generally looked quite eccentric. In the bag there was an obligatory stethoscope and a very ancient sphygmomanometer.
Dr Kurakis was well respected. His house was full of books and, whether he had read them or not, this was a just reason to revere the man. Whether he ever actually cured anyone was something else. When he wasn't at his surgery he wass tending his beans or else sitting in the cafeneon drinking raki with the shepherds. He was in the cafeneon when Takis came blundering in with news of Yorgos.
Takis, who had not been blessed with over bright parents was an even shorter than most Vlahassian, with large feet, shovel-like hands and thick, round, black rimmed glasses. What's more he stuttered and spat saliva all over the place when he spoke so it was difficult for him to make the cafeneio-crowd understand. When they finally did get the gist of his babble there was instant panic. yorgos had been found in some sort of trance-like state. In the words of his brother, who by now had entered the scene, "In a world of his own". Yorgos was walking but didn't know where to. He was talking but no-one had any idea to whom he spoke. He was conscious but at the smae time totally unconscious of his earthly surroundings. Manolis had brought him into the village. He had found him thus, wandering around with the sheep, muttering over and over "here, there and everywhere, here there, and everywhere, here, there and everywhere, here, there and everywhere," like some record stuck in the groove.
People crowded around the two brothers as the one led the other into the cafeneon where Dr Kurakis was already on his third karafachi o f raki. Out came the stethoscope. out came the sphygmomanometer. All were silent in anticipation of the diagnosis. Dr Kurakis rocked slightly. "The man's not at home," he said, "the man's definitely not at home". He gigled slightly, which was a llittle disconcerting for the family, who were naturally upset, but they had every faith in the doctor, he was after all, a man of leaning and he would know exactly what to do. His suggestion therefore that they take Yorgos home and put him to bed to sleep it off, seemed wise. So that is exactly what they did. They tucked him up safely in his bed and waited for his senses to return.
**********************************************************************************
Sorry for any spelling mistakes but spell check wont work for some reason. I'll be back on the 13th February so until then
HAVE A BRILLIANT CHINESE NEW YEAR ON THE 7TH
AND A BIG, BIG, BIG, THANK YOU GERALD FOR SENDING THE PARCEL OF GOODIES WHAT A WONDERFUL SURPRISE - HAVE A GOOD ONE,
Love Jane x
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