It's Still Greek to Me!
August 2022
Why is it that summer seems to fly, while winter takes an age to drag by? Possibly an unanswerable question, although doubtless many people have their theories.
July 2022
Summer is really here, with people being at the beach at 8 o’clock in the morning. And school has ended, so I’ve been doing the things that grandmothers do. My elder granddaughter had her last day at kindergarten, and I was there. I can’t say I recall a great deal about the occasion, as I was minding my younger granddaughter. She is almost 18 months, and is already very determined, and with a purposeful walk. That day she had her sights set on the slide that is in the kindergarten playground. Heart in mouth, I watched her while she negotiated the steps, and was very grateful that her 9-year-old brother stationed himself at the bottom of the slide and caught her every time. And there were many of them: toddlers need to prove they can repeat important acts X number of times. At the end of the proceedings, the kindergarten graduate came away with a paper scroll to prove her period of attendance. She seems to have enjoyed it all and, like her brother before her, has taught herself to read.
June 2022
It seems summer is here: people are swimming again, and work on seaside coffee shops and restaurants continues in a general sprucing-up process. And there also seems to be a welcome return of tourism, as three cruise ships have already been in the port, and there are quite a few foreign camper vans and the like on the roads. Greece really needs tourism to keep on going, of course, but Covid is still very much around, and I wonder about the result of the greater relaxation of pandemic restrictions. Time will tell, as it usually does.
May 2022
I hope it is safe to say that spring has sprung at last. It has taken a long time this year, and winter seemed to go on forever. But now the wild flowers are taking their well-regulated turns, and the wisteria, draped over various walls and hanging from numerous pergolas, is forming purple curtains. A glorious show, as my grandmothers would have said. And all the loquat trees are in full fruit, reminding me of my childhood, when everybody’s Granny had a loquat tree in the garden. These are the things to concentrate on when the world continues to be in an ever-worsening mess.
April 2022
What a month March has been! The Ukrainian situation has only become worse, and is now in its fifth week of death, destruction, and general upheaval. The statistics are hard to take in: ten million people are now displaced, and more than three million have left Ukraine altogether, with the vast majority of those being women and children, as men aged 18-60 are forbidden to leave the country. The one bright spot is the reaction of people in the neighbouring countries to which Ukrainians have fled, for the latter have been met with offers of help too numerous to mention, with aid being forthcoming on a very large and organised scale. But of course the pressing question is: how long can this huge effort be sustained? There are now more than two million refugees in Poland alone.
March 2022
The Greek wish of Kalo Mina (have a good month) rings rather hollow today, with the world in such a mess. It is hard to think of anything but the invasion of Ukraine, the general suffering, the huge numbers of displaced people, and the great many young men being used, once again, as cannon fodder. I am writing on the last day of February, the shortest month, which no doubt seemed very long for a great many people. I went to Kalamata to do the usual chores of bank and post office, and spent quite a lot of time in long queues. The inevitable thought came: what must it be like to be queueing at a border while in fear of your life? Or to be standing and wondering whether there is going to be any medicine or food left once you get your turn? Having had neither of these experiences, I am reminded very frequently of my privileged life.
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.
January 2022
Happy New Year! I must admit that my immediate thought is that we have to keep on trying to make it so, despite a great deal of discouragement. Here in Greece the Covid infection rate is rising at rocket-like speed, with the Attica area being most affected. It is the most populous part of Greece, so this is only to be expected. As I make my limited journeys around greater Athens, however, I notice that most people are obeying the rules, which currently involve the wearing of double masks. Four of my grandchildren have had their vaccinations: baby Aphrodite is still too young.
December 2021
I suppose we are all asking ourselves the same question: where has this year gone? Into the effort of just keeping going, I suspect. And as I write, the world is feeling threatened yet again because of the discovery of the Omicron variant of Covid. More restrictions, more uncertainty. And more need to convince grandchildren and children everywhere that life is good (most of the time) and that Christmas is coming and they are going to enjoy it.
November 2021
November, and I’m wondering where 2021 has gone; no doubt it has disappeared into the giant hole that is the business of coping with Covid. It is hard to believe that it is nearly six months since I had my second jab, but this means I am due for a booster before Christmas. I feel ambivalent about this, and have a lot of mates in worrying about the low rate of vaccination in poorer countries. However, once past a certain age, people start becoming concerned about being burdens on their families, and this been a worry of mine for quite some time. So I will go ahead. In any case, one wonders what happens to supplies of vaccine that are not used within a defined time? Richer countries apparently over-order, so there are literally millions of doses that can be sent elsewhere before their expiry date. Whether they will be or not is another matter.
October 2021
The season of mists and mellow fruitfulness is upon us. Well, that’s the theory, and there is some show of mellow fruitfulness, but the mists are few and far between, and the heat goes on fairly relentlessly. It’s not usual to have temperatures of 33 in the autumn, but that’s what we’re having. Rain has been forecast several times, but has so far failed to visit this parched land. This lack does not bode well for the winter olive harvest.
September 2021
I feel as if I’m coming up for air after having my daughter-in-law and the three children under this small roof for four weeks: they have not been able to move into their Kalamata flat until early this month. Although the whole venture did me good, and the children are endlessly entertaining, I confess I’d forgotten how constant the care of small children has to be. A matter of eternal vigilance, and that is only one part of the whole business. The default setting for parents is fear, I think, and I now know that the setting does not change for grandparents: I kept the phone numbers for the ambulance service and the local hospital handy at all times.
Gillian occasionally writes for
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