Under Attack

Under attack

Waldo dragged his weary bones out of bed fairly early this morning. Louli would be here soon to mend and improve the filter system for the water reservoir which was fed mainly from water rushing down the back driveway. I grumbled but soon followed. After drinking my first pint of water of the day, I telephoned the road contractor. Once again I got to speak with the handsome Michaelis. He gave no apology for the fact that so many times over the past few week he has promised to send someone with the machine to fix the road. Patiently I asked him when it would happen.

‘Tomorrow.’ Was his firm response. ‘Tomorow morning.’ He confirmed.

‘Segura?’ ‘For sure’ I questioned.

‘Malista’ ‘Yes, of course’ he responded, as though there was no need for me to challenge him on this point.

I walked back to the kitchen. Waldo was smiling, ‘Avrio – tomorrow – it is then? We have plenty of experiences of Greek promises and know that, whilst some are well intentioned, they are not worth a light. It is no wonder Greece is in such a mess – but I won’t start on that topic!

I had managed to make some breakfast scones yesterday. I make batches of about 10 to 12 and freeze them individually so that we can treat ourselves every now and then, instead of having standard brown toast. I have kept some scones back from the freezer in anticipation. My plum and cardamom jelly has set well overnight and so I put a small jar of that on the table, together with some previously made lemon and ginger jelly. Tart fruit cheeses or jellies go extremely well with scones and provide a really intense flavour of the fruit used.

On the grounds that Louli and possibly Mario would be here soon we decide not to breakfast on the patio, where the temptation would be to linger. Waldo is just on his second cup of tea and I’ve spread my plum jelly, when we hear the oncoming drone of a fast moving aeroplane. Occasionally Greek fighter jets from the military base in Kalamata run fast moving, low flying exercises down over the Peloponnese, out to sea along the Maleas Straits, around Kythera island and back up hugging the coast of the Mani peninsular. Today it is just one ‘plane, flying extremely low and very close to our shore line. I go outside and shake my fist at the aircraft and shout my usual insult: ‘You can’t afford the fuel. Don’t you know your country is broke!’

I’ve only just sat down when we hear a similar noise, but of more than one thing flying through the air. It is quieter and more of a drone. Then we see them, as rigorous as the Dam Busters they come; 4 huge hornets come through the patio door in the kitchen whilst three lesser wasps come through the other door. One hornet after the other makes straight for me and I have to do swift sideways moves to avoid the beasts. Are they blind or were they aiming for me? The leader turns and makes for the window which he knocks into with such force that he is temporarily stunned and falls about 4ft onto the window sill. It takes just a few moments for him to shake himself and set off again. The second in command does exactly the same but from a lower starting point. They circle and aim for me again. I pushed the last of the scone and plum jelly in my mouth, put the lid on the jar and sit very still with my mouth tightly closed.

Waldo reaches for the fly swatter. Bees and some other flying insects he usually guides out of the kitchen, but hornets and wasps he is allowed to kill, kill, kill without mercy. After some early morning exercise running around the kitchen, side swiping, volleying and back hand hitting, he eventually kills two and evicts the rest of the swarm. It is rare to have such visitors. We do have some rather large insects that appear to be totally blind; they seem to think that the knots in the pinewood ceiling of the kitchen are flowers. No matter how many times they come in, they spend hours moving from flower to flower, knocking themselves against the wood and never getting a drop of nectar or pollen or whatever they are after. They are quite harmless and leave eventually; we just have to put up with the noisy droning of their wings and the occasional thuds as they hit the wood.

Waldo eats his scone with plum jelly quickly and does not attract the hornets again. Louli has still not arrived and so Waldo goes out to sprinkle the concrete with water. This is an essential part of good concrete, particularly in such hot weather. We need to give a light, but copious spray of water from the hose pipe all over the cement, twice a day for a week. This will stop the cement from curing too quickly and ensure that it takes time to set; then we will not have it cracking, crumbling or splitting. A number of our friends have laughed at this practice, but Waldo’s experience in the quarrying business have taught him such things. Friends who have taken heed of his advice can often be heard passing on this secret knowledge with authority to others at dinner parties and social events; Waldo usually just smiles and says nothing.

Whilst Waldo is watering the cement, I make a quick batch of coffee and walnut cupcakes. We are both busy with various jobs until it time for a cold drink. It is 12.30 and still no sign of Louli. I give Waldo a shopping list and he sets off to the big villages to get groceries, call of the post office, buy batteries for his new headphones which arrived, without batteries as stated, and to change a pack of ballpoint pens which he bought in the village and none work. The heat kills so much here. Despite the pens being wrapped up in plastic wrapping they had all dried out. Glue, even unopened tubes, have to be kept in airtight containers otherwise it goes off.

I do two washing machine loads of clothes. Everything which is hung out to dry in the sun has to be turned inside out. Even items which might have the fastest of colours will be bleached a shade or two lighter if left in the direct sun. But it is lovely to have freshly dried clothes from outside. Sheets and pillow cases I hang on the line on the patio outside our bedroom. This gets the evening sun and the gentle breeze wafts jasmine and geranium perfume over them as they dry. I cut long branches of rosemary and put them into tall containers in the bathrooms; better than any chemical air freshener. Geranium leaves, lavender, jasmine flowers and any wild herbs I come across provide a potpourri of freshness through the house.

Because I am overweight, I tend to wear lots of elasticated trousers. There is elastic in so many other clothes; pyjama bottoms, pants, bras, socks to name but a few. The sun soon dries these out, the elastic goes brittle and the bits of rubbery material shrivel into little balls which break and shed from their holding material. This renders the elastic useless. I seem to be forever rethreading elastic waists, darning fine elastic into edges that cling to thighs, ankles and under my boobs. The first time I needed to buy elastic I was amazed at the variety of the stuff that was available in Pangiotis' haberdashery. White, black or ecru, flat or round, fine shirring, thick or thin, 2mm, 3mm, 5mm or bigger it is all there sold by the centimetre or in 10metre lengths. I couldn't believe such a treasure trove. Now of course I know why!

The first time I made a pair of trousers out here I made them with an elasticated waist. Now I know better and always make loops or slits for a belt. I make a variety of belts out of the wonderful selection of braided or polyester ribbon that Panagiotis supplies. He has every colour under the sun - and cotton to match. As I look carefully at the older women on the island I notice that they too have perfected this way of making non-elasticated waistbands. I decide to cut out and make a pair of culottes later this afternoon.

The sound of the car horn indicates that Waldo is back. I get up to prepare some iced coffees which we will take on the patio and drink whilst he tells me who he has met, what is happening and what is not happening on the island. Lots of  unlisted treats appear in the shopping bags and as they are all drinks or refreshing fruits I know that Waldo was feeling the heat as he shopped. We sit outside with our drinks, Waldo with a nectarine and me with an orange and a fresh baked coffee and walnut cupcake each. The road is not done! There's a new girl on the till of the supermarket in the big village. The post office gave up about 2 weeks worth of DVD orders - how I can order them over a period of time and yet they all arrived at once never fails to amaze me. There is a good selection - which one will we watch tonight? There are definitely less people around - parking is relatively easy in Potamos, whereas in previous years it has been nigh on impossible to get within a kilometre of the centre.

By the time we have finished eating and chatting we decide that Louli is not coming today. Waldo goes to water the cement for the third time. I set up my sewing. Waldo will do some sewing too; I have been trying to repair the top of our large patio umbrella, but the new canvas is far too strong for me to get the needle through. Waldo has now been taught how to do the stitches and with the aid of a set of pliers can do the necessary stitches. It doesn't look very neat, but it does the job. The only problem is that he easily gets bored and so has had about three attempts already.

We're all set to start and ...... the power fails!  With all the extra pressure of refrigerators, air conditioning, fans and such, this is a daily occurrence in the summer. Mind you it happens almost daily in the winter too, but the reasons then are quite different: central heating, cookers, rain, high winds and lightening strikes! There is nothing left to do but to go to bed. So off we go and fall asleep immediately.

We both wake up around six. Waldo went out to water the cement again and to fit the batteries into his new headphones, in readiness for watching a DVD tonight. I got some cold drinks and we were going to laze around in bed for a while more and chat. No sooner than we were both back in the bedroom than the front door bell rang. Louli's here!

By the time I get out of the bedroom he is halfway down the stairs. We often leave the front door open to create an air draft through the house. We sit outside and he demolishes a litre of cold water from the 'fridge. After a leisurely chat when, among other things, he tells me about getting bitten on the stomach by a scorpion when he was a young child in Albania, he declares that it is time for work! It is seven o'clock and Waldo really does not feel like it, but off they go to check out the double filter system into the back reservoir.

Another day has disappeared in a chain of unexpected events, broken promises and thwarted attempts to do what is planned. As the Greeks would say 'Ti na kanoumai.' - 'What can we do?' Is it a resigned acceptance of fate? I saw a sign in the back of a car one day which read 'My karma has run over my dogma' - well over here it is the only way to live: keep calm and be flexible!