Cephalonia

Last night it rained so much that not only cats and dogs fell down from the sky but also extinct animals from BC times. I have never in my whole life known such lightning that exploded across the Cephalonian Sky in a demonstration of utter awe. The thunder that followed was a growl that went on and on and on. It was truly unbelievable. Of course I saw much of this from under my blanket hidden behind Karen, but even so.....

We are occupying the top two bedrooms in the villa to afford us delightful views across Sami valley and out to sea, but last night as the storm literally seemed to be breaking around us the three of us took refuge in the downstairs bedroom. I didn't sleep much after this as sleeping with Flora is akin to spending time with an octopus on speed. I'm delighted to say she slept and I was pleased for her....

To celebrate the fact that I was still alive this morning, I wandered down the hill, or river as it is now with proper riverbeds and fish and fishermen and pollution and everything, and went to the town bakery which sells much more than just bread, oh yes. Greta was her normal cheerful self, no doubt still doubling up as a part time mortician, and I asked for bread. Brown bread & white, oaty and plain, rough and smooth, big & small. Oh yes, I covered all bread angles as I'm not breadist.

Then I turned my attention to the pastries where Greta has everything. Pastries with chocolate, with fruit, with icing, with attitude, with all of it. I asked for an apple turnover and she gave me a quizzical look. Yes please, I slobbered out in expectation and she went under the counter. At one point I became sure someone was pulling at my zip, but when I looked down, no one was there. Anyhow Greta jumped up with an apple in her hands which she dutifully placed on the counter. Then she turned it over, a huge grin on her face.

'Two euros' she declared and I handed my coinage over readily, after all the apple had turned over. She hungrily took it off me and placed it down her cleavage.

'Anything else?' she asked, lustily,

'Yes please,' I said happily, 'coffee please.'

The coffee counter is simply superb with every type of coffee from cappuccino to macchiato, frothamato to thisissillymato. I had my usual single espresso. I used to have an extra shot but it made me melancholy on the come down.

'Sugar,' she asked, despite knowing I'd pocketed 12 sugars to keep our levels up at home.

'Yes please!' I declared happily. 'How much do I owe you?' I asked.

'Come back here young stroke older man and you will owe me nothing!' she replied, pulling back her blouse to reveal a row of gleaming €2 coins. I was mildly tempted as I do like the €2 coin but at that point the oldest lady in the village, 173 at least, wandered in with her entourage and I escaped into the bright Sami morning.

Outside I sipped on my espresso savouring each drop as I thought to the history of this fine island. Only 61 years ago a violent earthquake destroyed the infrastructure of this place with most of the old housing simply falling down and overnight 4/5ths of the population leaving. It took Stavros Poppydoppyloppylos, aka Louis de Bernieres, to encourage people to come back here. The book that had the working title of 'Private Spiros owns a Banjo,' opens with factually the most boring chapter ever written. The relief at getting past this chapter made everything else in the book seem amazing, even turning it into a huge Hollywood film starring totally the wrong people who bore no relation to the characters in the book and indeed cutting out huge sections of the book to make it more 'Hollywood.' You couldn't write it. Still it got the punters back to the island and means bakeries such as the one run by Greta now flourish. We can all rejoice in that.

The old lady came out of the bakery and as she was carried past me by Nick Cage lookalikies, I noticed she still has many of her own teeth. Impressive really as on the recent production of 'Silence of the Lambs' at Mansfield's where I was playing 'Victim 2,' Horace Barnfather, aged 40, who was playing Hannibal hasn't got any teeth having been bought up on a diet of toffee. When he bit me on stage it was like being molested by a giant slobbery toad.

When I returned back to the villa CC & MCC were waiting for me and shouting 'Hurrah' from the balcony. Yes, I made it through the rain I kept my world protected, I made it through the rain
I kept my point of view, I made it through the rain and found myself respected by the others who got rained on too and made it through.

A X

This blog is dedicated to my good friend Paul who passed away suddenly last week. Paul and I wrote comedy together when we were young and trod the boards together when everything was possible.