Saturday, 6 August 2016

Fresh paint ...

Antreas, who is coming to sort out the plaster and paintwork inside and outside the house, will arrive at eight o'clock on Monday. It was to have been 07.30 but that would have been a step too far. We will have to get used to not wandering around the house nearly naked for the time he is going to be here. However, despite the potential for disruption, it will be a terrific improvement and make our dream home even dreamier.

This is very much a fresh start for us, after the last year. We have put that sadness behind us and, as the cricketers would say, we are "taking fresh guard". Our life out here is normally so relaxed that even the smallest thing can send shockwaves through the system. It reminds me of the mill pond and the throwing of a pebble into it ... such a small item can cause so many waves.

The Rio Olympics will leave us totally unmoved and I suspect that the television set will get quite a rest for the next couple of weeks. There is something about athletes, with their total focus on nothing and nobody but themselves, that is slightly nauseating. I've always been a follower of team sports (rugby and cricket, and that peculiar team sport of Grand Prix Racing) where people rely on the performance of others, and have to work together for success. But, strangely, there are some people who do not follow my interests.

A welcome break for and from politics and politicians, although the sight of David Cameron and Boris Johnson in their swimming trunks rather spoils the lazy breakfast in the morning. The BREXIT row rumbles on and on and on, and UK Plc gets poorer and poorer by the second. All those who supported this madness come out with "The people have spoken", "Get over it" and "Move on" - perhaps this is atypical of their brain function, and why they were persuaded to vote for impoverishing their country.

What so many people on newspaper websites and Internet forums are saying seems to have very little relationship with reality. I envisage legions of bare-chested xenophobes, with Union Flag underpants, dragging their knuckles along the ground and, with many a clenched fist, claiming that housing will now be available, the NHS will recover overnight and that, suddenly, unemployment will become a thing of the past. Some newspaper columns are awash with hatred of immigrants, foreigners - call them what you will. "Send them all back NOW" is the Daily Mail mantra ... I know, I know, I shouldn't read such garbage. It's akin to self-flagellation. But seriously it does make me ashamed to be British at the moment.

I dropped into Polis Hospital yesterday to pick up my repeat prescriptions. It was pretty deserted, there were three doctors on duty and I was in and out within fifteen minutes. I asked the lovely Chrissou at registration whether the cardiologist was still at the hospital. Dr Agamemnon is a man I respect and it was good to hear that he will be there until the end of August. I asked her what would happen then. She said another cardiologist had been appointed. She then smiled a beaming smile and said "We shall see ..." What was less good was the doctor I saw had not more than a couple of words of English. We communicated almost by sign language. That's okay as far as repeat prescriptions are concerned but not when you are describing symptoms of an illness you might have. That is indeed a case of "We shall see ..."

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