July 2021

A most unusual start to a summer month. Here I am in Athens for the first time in a year. Greece seems to emerging slowly but fairly safely from Covid restrictions, and the government is doing its best to counter a certain amount of vaccine hesitancy: the latest measure is a payment of 150 euros to people under the age of thirty the moment they can prove they have had the first jab. Predictably, many people think this is a mistake, and that the money should be paid after the second jab, and not before.

In the meantime, Athens is sweltering in a severe heat wave. The mercury has stood at something over 35 for the past week, and no early respite is expected. I am writing at 10 in the morning, and it is 33 already. On its way to 44, according to some forecasts, which I naturally prefer not to believe. The life of the street is subdued, with older people creeping slowly to the supermarket and home again, and being very conscientious about wearing their masks.

Every big city has its threats, and sometimes we are forced to acknowledge their existence. I am staying with my youngest son and his family. We went out for a mere three hours a few nights ago, and came back to the unwelcome signs of what people now call a home invasion. A burglary, in older parlance. The residence is on the first floor, but apparently those with youth, athleticism, and evil intent are not deterred. In this case, a sliding glass door was smashed, and every room in a not very big flat was gone through very hastily and systematically. Jewellery and cash went missing, and of course it is the items of sentimental value that will be missed most.

The worst aspect of this whole episode has been the effect on the children. The baby of course carries on regardless, but Natalia, soon to turn 5, and Orestes, who is 8, were very upset and extremely shocked. The visual impact was severe. The lights had been left on, and clothes and boxes of all sizes were everywhere. Their sense of security has obviously been greatly undermined. Still, it was good to see them trying to accentuate the positive after only a short time. They are thankful that they still have their bikes, their books and the television set. It is their mother who has suffered most, although of course the sense of violation has to be coped with by everybody. Life and its various vicissitudes, as a great-Grandfather of mine was reputedly in the habit of saying.

In the meantime winter has come to the Wide Brown Land, and I still watch events there compulsively. How disappointing they are, what with all sorts of scandals, and general mismanagement of the so-called vaccination rollout. I never thought I would see the day when Greece was more efficient and organised than Australia, but that day has clearly come.

Robert Louis Stevenson wrote that there is no duty we neglect so much as that of being happy. Well, I try to do my duty, and so do my grandchildren, who are inevitably better at the task than I am. They are still trailing those Wordsworthian clouds of glory.