February 2022

What a month January has been. The tensions on the Russian-Ukrainian border, with suspense being the order of the day, and no resolution in sight. The underwater volcanic eruption that has affected Tonga and its neighbours so badly. Pity the people in those places: one wonders why human beings ever make plans, as they, the plans, can be so easily upset. And so can the people, of course.

Then there’s the matter of politics. The calibre of politicians in many places does little to inspire: not looking at Australia or Britain in particular. I suppose I continue to be naïve, but there was a time when people in general believed that a gentleman’s word was his bond, and most individuals in public life subscribed to the same view. Alas, those days are long gone. Also long gone are the days when most people believed that money wasn’t everything and when greed was thought of as being one of the Seven Deadly Sins. My maternal grandmother would eye us severely and intone, also severely: The love of money is the root of all evil. Today’s youth would probably laugh at the rigidity of the old woman, but I still think she is right. And I am still glad that I spent my childhood in a simpler, kinder era.

The only thing to do is to accentuate the positive. Last Saturday, it being a day that was almost spring-like, I went walking with three of my grandchildren: the 8 and 5 year-olds and the baby girl who has just had her first birthday, and has also got the hang of the business of walking at the same time. It takes about two minutes to leave Kalamata suburbia behind, and find a village scene. The olive trees have just been harvested, but the orange trees are loaded.

So we found a horse (and fed it), a whole herd of goats with a majestic billy in tow, some rather tathery-looking sheep, and a huge number of geese, whose honks and general carry-on were absolutely deafening. Geese, I think, make very good watchdogs, if you follow me. And ganders can be really frightening, with their noise and their beating of powerful (and big) wings. My elder granddaughter has new and very stylish gumboots. They were put to good use, as she walked through every puddle along the way. A trip down Memory Lane: I used to do exactly the same thing at her age. She also collected a large bunch of wild flowers, which was duly installed in a vase at home.

Her brother’s main achievement at present is the completion of all seven Harry Potter books, and now he has started to read them all over again. I used to do that sort of thing, too: I remember I read Little Women and Good Wives 13 times. I had a beautiful volume with both novels in it: a present from a great-uncle who was also an antique dealer. As is the case so often, the book disappeared at some stage during my many moves: a loss I regret. Now I want to hunt up another series for my grandson to start on: fortunately, I have an acquaintance with a young and enthusiastic bookseller in Kalamata. He really knows his children’s books, which is more than I can say for myself at this late stage.

Greece has had a spell of spectacularly bad weather. We got off lightly here in the south with seeping cold and a power cut of some hours, but things were much worse in Athens and points further north. Athens was blanketed in snow, and my daughter-in-law could not get to work: the buses were not running. My elder grandsons, now 15 and 13, had a break from school, as all schools in Attica were closed. There was also no hope of athletics training, a daily routine that is important to both of them. Thousands of motorists were stranded on a main road, and now there is uproar in Parliament, with the opposition alleging that the government should have been prepared for such an eventuality.

I now have the distinction of having my sons living in three different countries. My middle son is now safely in Warsaw, having flown there on Saturday: he takes up a job with Frontex on Tuesday. I’m feeling ambivalent about both move and job, to say the least. The family plans to move to join him at the end of the school year in June. In the meantime middle son has visited the centre of the city, and says it is very impressive. I am now resolved to do something about my very slender grasp of Polish history: all I can remember is that it was partitioned a lot in the eighteenth century. I clearly have a lot of work ahead of me!

Hooray for Ash Barty. What a champ!