September 2020

Another month is upon us already, and I, for one, have not got much to show for August, apart from the fact of having a birthday. At this stage I’ve decided to take a leaf out of my maternal grandmother’s book. If, as children, we asked how old she was, she would invariably reply, ‘I’m as old as my tongue, and a little older than my teeth,’ an announcement that left us suitably mystified. Our mother eventually explained that Nana did not want to be categorized or labelled: she had the feeling that people were expected to act their age, according to society’s expectations, and she wasn’t necessarily prepared to do that.

Neither am I, but realise that I have had the privilege of always being an outsider, and that Greek society’s expectations did not apply to me. When I first came to the village no other woman wore jeans or drove a car, and very few did paid work outside the home. I did peculiar things like go for long walks on my own, and when I was having my third child I kept on swimming for as long as the hot weather lasted. My category and label was definitely Foreign.

All my grandchildren were in attendance on my natal day, so that was a treat. They seem to cope well with the foreign label and also with the matter of age. Natalia, the youngest at 4, has not asked my age, but simply announces that I am poli megali: very old. That’s fine: I am, and hope to become older still.

The grandchildren, big and little (Nikitas is 10 years older than Natalia) are enduring some suspense connected with the opening of schools and kindergartens. Greece is still doing well in the handling of the virus, but there is no doubt that the rate of infection is rising, so the start of the school year might well be delayed. The decision will be handed down tomorrow, the first of the month. And it is likely that even the youngest children will have to wear face-masks if/when schools do open.

In the meantime, nature rolls on in its inexorable way. Here there is a definite autumnal feel to the atmosphere: leaves began to drift quite a while ago, and certain trees are heavy with pomegranates. But the hot weather is continuing at about 33 every day, and beaches are crowded. There are not too many signs of social distancing around, I must admit, so let’s hope that fresh air keeps the nasty little virus at bay.

I’m pleased to hear that spring has sprung in Melbourne, poor constricted city. Friends tell me that the blossom is a picture, so at least that’s something, and no.1 son adds that being a hermit is a help in lockdown. Surely the gardens must be beginning to do the right thing? I hope so. And more light and warmth always make a difference. At this end of the world I am quite apprehensive about the approach of winter.

I’m also apprehensive about Turkish activities in the eastern Mediterranean: President Erdogan is determined to continue his search for gas reserves, and tension is growing over the much-disputed matter of the continental shelf. PM Mitsotakis says that Greece will extend its western shelf by 12 km: I’m not exactly sure how he can make this declaration, but he seems to think the extension will happen. Erdogan warns that if he tries to do the same in an easterly direction, then it will be sufficient cause for war. Not all a cheering thought, especially not for the mothers of sons. Two of my three are still on reserve lists.

There are always such matters to worry about, human nature being what it is. One major one is that of the forthcoming American election. The thought of a Trump victory makes my blood run cold, and I know I have many, many mates. The USA is, in my view, teetering on the brink of becoming a failed state, with civil war not being beyond the bounds of possibility. Why are people always convinced they are right? Why do American evangelicals persist in believing that Trump is a man of God? Why, for that matter, did so many Australians vote for a Pentecostal Christian who is so ignorant of the Golden Rule that he needed to employ an ‘empathy consultant?’ Mysteries, both.

Another mystery is that of my Internet connection. It has recently gone bonkers or on strike or both, so that for some days I have been without a connection at all. Today’s access constitutes a minor miracle in my opinion, and I devoutly hope another miracle can be achieved in the replacement machinery and the efficient working thereof. But such a miracle could take two weeks or more. Watch this space.