Sunday, 8 November 2015

HANGING ROCK


 You can tell we are becoming as introspective as our Greek village neighbours when all the talk revolves around a huge lump of rock left suspended high up over the main national road following the torrential downpours of recent weeks. Our village was on the telly! Life was exciting for a day with heavy lifting equipment, large cranes, TV crews and lots of usual local suspects turning up in front of the TV cameras hoping that someone would take action before the monstrous thing obeyed the laws of gravity and killed off a few passing motorists underneath.


Picking up our lovely Lena from Panormo, we spent a couple of days doing quite a long diversion – just to avoid that small section of road. However, hanging rock is there no more. The police arrived on Wednesday and closed the road, all the heavy equipment got into action with lorries, chains, a tanker lorry full of water which was pumped to the top of the escarpment and flushed down under the base of the monster to give some leverage. After some hours, broken chains, workmen shouting and bulldozers reversing for their lives, the huge thing broke in two and did a majestic slide, breaking into smaller pieces on the way to the road side. Then the bulldozer set to and started to clear up the debris which is now gathered and piled up at several spots along the side of the road (and has blocked off the access to and from the bus stop). However, honour is satisfied and no one has been injured in the process. Bravo to all those good souls!


Lena the Cleaner, a very sweet young lady, brought a small plastic bag of fruit from her garden on Wednesday. Beautiful mandarins freshly picked (what a glorious smell) and some PRICKLY PEARS! I tried to arrange my face as Lena proceeded to peel them - trying not to look horrified since the last adventure with prickly pears left their microscopic splinters all round the kitchen sink and we couldn't escape without throwing all the washing up brushes, sponges, gloves and stuff away. This time it was WORSE! Lena had peeled one of the pears and left it on a plate to taste saying how good it was for you. After this and oblivious to the spines herself, she took all the brushes and dusters round the house and left the little splinters EVERYWHERE. So for the next few days, having found and got rid of one, I almost immediately picked up another from somewhere else. They were on the sofa cushions and in my knitting. I have been squinting with my specs, magnifying glass, tweezers, selotape and nailclippers to try and get rid of them. Then I had to don two pairs of rubber gloves and clean all the surfaces of the house again! The flavour of the fruit is … OK … but nothing makes it worth tackling the tiny hairlike spines that are impossible to see and equally impossible to get rid of! Of course, it is the thought that counts, but my experience compels me to advise curious people to avoid prickly pears like the plague as there are much tastier fruits … and they are just not worth it! And they are full of hard pips!

After a week or so of dark, cloudy wintry weather, the sun came out this week and it was almost like a second Spring. All the plants started to bud and bloom and the garden is coming to life again. Kimon took himself off to Panormo at the crack of dawn to try some fishing. He has been planning this for more than a year, so his increased mobility on the 'mobility scooter with attitude' is giving him a real new lease of life and independence. It is very good to see.

I spoke too soon. The telephone has just rung and it was the would-be fisherman on the other end. The quad bike is stuck in some sand on the beach and K needs rescuing. I have just gone to the car and realised that the roadway outside the kafeneon has been dug up by the Water Board and is now impassable leaving our car stranded on the wrong side of it so that I am also marooned! Fortunately, Stuart answered his phone and has gone to the rescue. We have settled for interdependence!



Afternote: A Friday evening out at a lovely traditional kafeneon in Achlade, a nearby village, gave us the opportunity to see all the youngsters of the village hard at work. Demetra, one of the three daughters of the family, took me to a small hall next door where lots of long tables were covered in fir cones, almonds, acorns, glass holders and candles. They were assembling table centres incorporating a calendar to sell at Christmas and raise funds for their village youth centre. Having bought one for 5 euros, congratulated all the people at work, the older sister stopped mid-flight for a brief chat. Victoria was rushing off to meet with the Hellenic Red Cross volunteers who are off to Mytilini in Lesvos, where hundreds of refugees are arriving by rubber rafts. She said that many more small children than reported were drowned on these desperate voyages and it was very difficult work for them. I said that we sent our prayers with them and she said “Oh yes we are going with lots of prayers from old people” (this made me gulp a bit). She wondered why I was wincing at a pain in the pad of my thumb, I mentioned that I had still a few splinters from prickly pears … “Ah, this is easy”, she said. “You need to cover your hands with oil and a spoonful of sugar to give them a sugar scrub”. I tried it. It works.



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