A to Z 2025 Challenge – Business, Books and Barbara…

I confess I am not a great fan of autobiographies that begin at the beginning and follow a temporal path up to the present day – not that the person might not have some interesting stories, facts and opinions strung on their necklace. It just doesn’t appeal as a structure. On the other hand, in my last, extra year at school in Oxford, retaking an A-level and adding a couple more, I was allowed out of school on my recognisance and saw a fascinating Exhibition at the Modern Art Gallery. The Artist had laid out and photographed every single possession of a single person – for example, all the cutlery was laid out in one shot, all the shoes in another. There is now a term for this type of image – “Knolling” or “Flatlay” and you can find the fascinating origin of this nomenclature here. The memory of this Exhibition (or Exhibit if you are American) has never left me and in addition, the BBC produced a series of programmes (now available as a podcast) A History of the World in 100 Objects, or in book form if you are not able to download from the BBC.

This more thematic approach appeals more and although I am not arranging the objects which I have chosen to tell my story in chronological order, I hope that my writing will be sufficiently interesting to keep your interest Dear Reader, and that on the journey from A to Z, you will assemble an impression of my life and who I am…

Boredom Box

I have a love of miniature worlds and also of gadgets (more of that under G) and I put this tiny box together to carry in my jacket pocket so that I might never be found at a loose end… It contains a Codewords puzzle, a Sudoku set from a Christmas Cracker, some wool and a miniature crochet hook so that I might practise or demonstrate Tunisian crochet, an IKEA pencil, plus the tools from a cheap Swiss Army card whose cheapness was revealed when the casing broke – consisting of a pen, a nail file, tweezers, a toothpick and a pair of scissors. I have never had to use the boredom box in anger but it is as well to be porepared

Business

I realise that this is not strictly an object apart from the fact that every picture exists as a print, a slide or just a digital collection of 1’s and 0’s… This is the factory where I work 2.5 days a week (semi-retired)… Myself (centre) with some of the staff of the bakery in the factory in Bradford, England. We make Gelato, Puddings and Gateaux for our own Restaurants and also Wholesale. The thing that stood out (pardon the pun) for me in this picture, was how much taller I am ( at 6′ 2″) than my colleagues apart from Adam who is from Sudan – a country noted for tall thin people!

Let me say at the outset – I am not a good businessman – at least when pursuing business on my own account…
You may have gleaned from the A for Art and Architecture, that I had some difficulty deciding what course to pursue in life although I prefer not to think of this as indecision but rather as having too many options to choose from. For many years, if asked what I did, I would say “Designer”, and that covered a lot of activities – Signwriter, Draughtsman, Architectural dabbler and these are all creative roles though within the confines of a brief or practical application. There has also been another quite different string to my bow – working in business, which I came to enjoy – and although I frequently got to employ my design skills in the service of those businesses I worked for or set up, I would say that there has never been a perfect balance between creativity and business skills – except perhaps my restaurant, but that will come under R…

A 1970’s bottle of Liquid Gumption from the time I worked at the factory
producing it. This bottle feature in a website called “Rubbish Walks” which
collects and displays a museum of rubbish…

Actually, the first business I worked in was a factory making Liquid Gumption (cream cleanser), Woodwards Gripe Water, and Wrights Coal Tar Soap and they were made by Sanitas located quite near to where I was living in London at the time. I had just left my first job after University, working for The Greater London Council under “Red” Ken Livingston where I had spent a year as a Trainee Administrator (learned how to write reports) and a year in the Print and Design Section (learned how to produce artwork for print by paste-up) but since these roles had either not suited or proved dead-ends, I needed a job to pay the rent and went to a work agency. After a week digging out huge tanks full of dried silica slurry, and having proved myself as a hard worker, the company took me on to work on Liquid Gumption kitchen and bathroom cream cleanser which was swapping silica(hazardous to the worker’s health) for chalk as the “scouring” agent.

A bottle of Woodwards Gripe Water similar to the one
produced in the 70’s but probably lacking that
alcohol used to extract the ginger flavouring…
The department making this very old soap, had the
worst smell I have ever smelled during the manufacture
– we had to go through this department to reach the canteen and you took a deep breath and tried to make
it through to the other end without taking another…


The factory also made Wrights Coal Tar Soap and Woodwards Gripe Water which in those days, in addition to the active ingredient, Bicarbonate of Soda (to make the babies burp) and Dillseed oil (flavouring and slight anaesthetic), it also contained an extract of Ginger made by steeping dried kibbled (raked apart) ginger in pure alcohol. The finished product thus contained an appreciable amount of alcohol which no doubt helped to soothe the babies but was later deemed a health hazard and removed… We used to obtain sample bottles of the concentrated ginger tincture that had been kept by the lab for sufficient time and dilute them with water and sugar to make ginger wine/liqueur!

The Sanitas factory in Brockwell, also housed some regional offices of the company and from the factory floor you could see people moving around behind frosted glass that delivered “borrowed” light into the factory and yet we had nothing to do with those office workers. The only individual who moved between the world of management and the shopfloor was the Factory Manager, whose name I have long forgotten, but who wore a white coat – little did I think that I would one day also wear a white coat and occupy that very same role… It says something about the industrial relations of the 1970’s that such stratification existed and I like to think that it is a little better today…

The next business I worked for was called The Good Food Shop and was in Lamb’s Conduit Street in London and was run by one, Tony Page who sadly I have lost touch with. It was here that I blagged my way into cooking at weekends to take a little pressure off the chef. I was a reasonable though enthusiastic cook but here I learned to make 6 buckets of salad each morning, six quiches, ratatouille, chilli-con-carne, beef-in-beer, and other staple dishes of the time which stood me in good stead when I eventually opened my own restaurant. I later went to work full-time for Tony when he acquired the shop next door and wanted to open a Wholefood Shop about which I knew a little more than him. After The Good Food Shop closed due to losing half it’s lunchtime trade when the newspaper industry moved from Fleet Street to Wapping, I worked in several businesses with Tony. I will forever be indebted to Tony for introducing me to the spreadsheet which in those pre-PC days, he produced on graph paper, in pencil with lots of rubbing out. Excel spreadsheets form a large part of my work today – chiefly monitoring prices and profitability of products in the factory where I work.

What I am forced to admit, is that whilst I have not succeeded in my own businesses, I have been “a useful engine” in other people’s businesses (more of that later). Creativity exercises one part of my brain and business skills another – I have never found a position or activity in which the balance is quite right…

Books

A photograph from a post I wrote about Tsundoku – a Japanese word which means “the piles of books waiting to be read”

Unlike my partner Barbara, who grew up with no books in the house, I have always been surrounded by books, my father’s collection of post-war economy cover Penguins and Pelicans sat outside his bedroom door in their now iconic orange (fiction), azure (non-fiction) with other colours for biography and crime. My parents bought the complete Encyclopedia Britannica which was for us what the internet is today. Other bookshops contained all of Dickens unabridged, wrist-wearying hardbacks – and then there was the local library. At four books each a week, my youngest sister, Helen, would choose the Enid Blyton books she had not yet read and immediately begin reading in the corner of the library, carry on in the car going home and by tea-time she was finished the first of her four picks – the result – she became a speed-reader which was confirmed when her school in Australia (more of that later) tested all the pupils to determine their reading level.

This bookcase, the one beside the desk where I am writing from, represents about two-ninths of the books in the house. These particular ones contain reference books, but also poetry, plays, design, art, music to play and some novels. Elsewhere there are cookery books, therapy and a lot more novels and at least a third of all the shelves are double stacked…

I read once, that everyone, by the time they become an adult, has picked a character from a book they’ve read, on which to model themselves. I wonder if that means that in an age where children read fewer books, characters from film and tv are now role models – Elon Musk certainly seems to have imagined himself as some kind of super-hero though sadly appears to have become a super-villain… After reading this theory, I searched my soul for clues as to who I might have picked and came to the conclusion that it might have been “Doc” in John Steinbeck’s Cannery Row. He was a real-life Marine Biologist who lived in Cannery Row and as well as being a close friend of Steinbeck, Doc seems to have been able to mix with everyone in Cannery Row from the “bums” in the Palace Flophouse to the girls in the whorehouse (though he was not a client). Doc was known to entertain “high-class dames” when he would fire up classical music on his gramophone. Doc and Steinbeck wrote up a marine biology expedition which Doc invited Steinbeck along on and the result was The Log from the Sea of Cortez. My mother was proud to say that she raised us to be able to speak with anyone from a tramp to the queen so it is perhaps not surprising that I should have identified with and modelled myself on such an egalitarian and kind polymath…

I am addicted to books and goodness knows what my children will do with them all if we are not forced to downsize before departing this mortal coil – then all the special books that have associations none but I or Barbara know, will stand on a level playing field and if they are not chosen to be kept, will suffer the indignity of the market place or worse – the charity shop – perhaps I need to think about that…

Barbara

A photograph of Barbara during lockdown when we were lucky enough to spend 6 months locked down in Crete. We shouldn’t have been at this beach where the cafe was of course closed and we had the place to ourselves. Though it was Winter in Crete, there were many sunny days like this…

I am not going to say too much about my partner and love of my life Barbara, partly for her privacy and because this is not her story but there were many times when I counted on her support just as she receives from me. We have been together, with a couple of brief hiatus’ for 42+ years. The picture above featured in a poetry post I made called One Day which will tell you all you need to know…

© Andrew Wilson, 2025

Poetry Postcard Fest Follow Up Post 15

The Poetry Postcard Fest is a challenge which encourages poets to write an unedited poem on a postcard and send it to a stranger. Organised by the Cascadia Poetics Lab, who organise the participants into lists of 31 + yourself for you to address your offerings to. This was my first year and hearing about it just in time to register, I was on List 15. The lists are sent out in early July and you have until the end of August to send out your missives – to date I have received 20 of 31 possibles and now that we are into September, it is allowable to share the cards and poems you sent and the cards but not the poems you received. I will share these in the order of sending and I will miss out those which I have not yet received in case they arrive soon…
Although the original poem is to be sent as written – crossings out, blots and all, I have typed them out for people who can’t read my writing and I am allowing myself to edit if I feel like it…

Dear Katie

From the ashes of what fire
did the family name of Phoenix
flutter forth, what history sired it
and does your clan
live up to its name
re-emerging from
whatever disaster the times
heap on your homes
– challenge your lives with
to be reborn and renewed
tempered by the flames?
These bonfires fed with prunings
from the olive grove in Crete
likewise strengthen the tree
for a more fruitful future…

© Andrew Wilson, 2023

This photograph was my favourite of all the ones I took in Crete during lockdown in the Winter of 2020. Katie’s card (below) was all about Summer and making the most of it…

Poetry Postcard Fest Follow Up Post 11

The Poetry Postcard Fest is a challenge which encourages poets to write an unedited poem on a postcard and send it to a stranger. Organised by the Cascadia Poetics Lab, who organise the participants into lists of 31 + yourself for you to address your offerings to. This was my first year and hearing about it just in time to register, I was on List 15. The lists are sent out in early July and you have until the end of August to send out your missives – to date I have received 20 of 31 possibles and now that we are into September, it is allowable to share the cards and poems you sent and the cards but not the poems you received. I will share these in the order of sending and I will miss out those which I have not yet received in case they arrive soon…
Although the original poem is to be sent as written – crossings out, blots and all, I have typed them out for people who can’t read my writing and I am allowing myself to edit if I feel like it…

Dear Peggy

To live by a great water
is to have a special sense of place
and you live in a place of
Great Spirit by the Great Water.
The moods and music of water
change every moment and
as well as the water
the reflections of great clouds
and huge skies dwarf
our mortal constructions
and remind us of the power of nature.
We lived six months in lockdown
with this stunning view of
mountains and Mediterranean
in Crete, winter of 2020
– I for one loved the cloud mountains…

© Andrew Wilson, 2023

Peggy reflected on the use of Cannabis to blunt the pain of harsh winters in areas where liquor was the only sucquor…

Poetry Postcard Fest Follow Up Post 8

The Poetry Postcard Fest is a challenge which encourages poets to write an unedited poem on a postcard and send it to a stranger. Organised by the Cascadia Poetics Lab, who organise the participants into lists of 31 + yourself for you to address your offerings to. This was my first year and hearing about it just in time to register, I was on List 15. The lists are sent out in early July and you have until the end of August to send out your missives – to date I have received 20 of 31 possibles and now that we are into September, it is allowable to share the cards and poems you sent and the cards but not the poems you received. I will share these in the order of sending and I will miss out those which I have not yet received in case they arrive soon…
Although the original poem is to be sent as written – crossings out, blots and all, I have typed them out for people who can’t read my writing and I am allowing myself to edit if I feel like it…

Dear Amy

This might seem like
sending coals to Newcastle
a picture of mighty mountains
to a woman who lives on a fiord
with her back to
mountains of her own
but these mountains have
never known the touch of glaciation
these mountains in Crete
where we spent lockdown
may be capped with Winter snow
but from their tops
you could see Africa
if only you were young enough
to climb and not locked down
so every day we just
admired from afar

Andrew
© Andrew Wilson, 2023

Amy’s card was only my second to arrive from Group 15 which I belonged to – I was the only non-American on the list! Her card was glittery and featured a drunken fairy and the mossy rocks which I imagine abound in the Washington landscape… I only wish I could share her poem!

Poetry Postcard Fest Follow Up Post 1

The Poetry Postcard Fest is a challenge which encourages poets to write an unedited poem on a postcard and send it to a stranger. Organised by the Cascadia Poetics Lab, who organise the participants into lists of 31 + yourself for you to address your offerings to. This was my first year and hearing about it just in time to register, I was on List 15. The lists are sent out in early July and you have until the end of August to send out your missives – to date I have received 20 of 31 possibles and now that we are into September, it is allowable to share the cards and poems you sent and the cards but not the poems you received. I will share these in the order of sending and I will miss out those which I have not yet received in case they arrive soon…
Although the original poem is to be sent as written – crossings out, blots and all, I have typed them out for people who can’t read my writing and I am allowing myself to edit if I feel like it…

Aliens
Are these alien plants
their blue-green colours
against a permanently pink
Mars-like sky?
No, they are standard pallette
for a contemporary Creatan
landscape gardener
planted against a bold
and untraditional pink
on the gable end of a
lockdown vacant let
between the beach
and the capacious cave where
villagers celebrate fiestas
in normal times.
Evading unlikely police
we are the aliens here…

© Andrew Wilson, 2023

And below is the card that I received from Alison…

The idea of the poems is generally that they should be epistolary, relate to the image on the front of the card, and – if your card has been received already by the sender (not possible with the first few obviously) – then it might relate to your poem too. I am not allowed to show you Alison’s poem but I can say that she probably had received mine and she does reference “a new palette of colours”.

A Tale of Two Trips…

We travelled twice to Crete
once was a holidayof two weeks
once was something different for six months.
The first time we stayed with
my sister-in-law and her partner
who gave up their bed
for her sister and I.

We hired a car
and left him to his work
and her to hers
rescuing cats
thankless by Cretans
and we travelled that corner of Crete
the lofty coast road south to Sitia
great banks of flowering shrubs
in their pomp
painting our way
giving glimpses of the empty sea
blue below.
Returning, the sunset meal
above a dizzying drop
down to the sea
and opposite the entrance
the coolest water flowing silently
into a trough
out of the heart of the mountain.
We gazed in awe at the Ha Gorge
where only younger people
in wetsuits might slide down
from pool to pool
and then not without risk
to life and limb.

In the year of the pandemic
in September, the disease settling in
for the long haul and we
periodically locked down
made an escape before borders
clanged firmly shut
at the sister-in-law’s suggestion
because Crete had no cases
and the winter would be warmer
than that in England
and we could keep company
installed in a winter vacant flat next door.
Two weeks in
Crete locked down
with a decisive severity
at odds with England’s ‘s Boris led
shilly-shallying silliness
even though Crete was almost Covid free
and England certainly was not!

The winter, as promised
as warm as an English summer
as befits a country
a mere stone’s throw from Africa
with only the occasional storm
thundering around the many mountains.
Oh! We had a grandstand view
from our apartment in Elounda
the sun bursting up across the bay
the evening light rendering
the mountains purple and gold
so crisply shadowed
you felt you could reach out
across twenty miles
and touch their roughness
where they fought
a losing battle against the elements
solid slabs descending into slopes of scree.

But when all was said and done
we were trapped in a gilded cage
on a short leash at best
allowed to local shops
suitably masked and sidestepping
others in a semblance of social distancing
but longer trips forbidden
more living but less sightseeing.

And yet…
on my solitary exercise walks
down to the two town supermarkets
I watched the tiny Cretan olives
ripen to purple-blackish bloom
the family bubbles
spread the nets beneath the trees
and mechanically flail
the harvest to the ground
afterward – pruning-burning bonfires
raising columns of smoke
all over the island
and eventually I saw
the tiny olive flowers
blossom to make next year’s crop
sights you wouldn’t see
on a two-week holiday.

My reward when I reach the town
a masked conversation
with the supermarket’s owner
at her checkout
an unexpected Pink Floyd superfan
telling of a last ticket
last minute flight
to see the group play
an ancient Athens amphitheatre
whilst I exchange a treasured memory
of the week I worked for the group
in the run-up to the premiere of The Wall
my bucket list never saw that coming!
I add the memories
and many photos
to my store.

We do not look back on it
as a holiday
more time served
under lockdown
albeit in a beautiful cell
and though we can say
we lived in Crete for six months
it was not life as we know it…

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub to the prompt Vacation. We don’t use the word vacation so much as holiday if I may be permitted…
© Andrew Wilson 2023

Olives, and Overeating…

If you have seen my Theme Reveal for the A2Z Challenge 2022, then you will know that I am writing about becoming Vegetarian gradually as a response to the crisis in food supply chains sparked by the pandemic and made worse by the WAR in Ukraine. As well, I am keeping to the theme I originally planned of food which can be eaten in its own right as well as becoming an ingredient in other dishes…

Olive flowers and fruit, Crete, by the author.

With so many foods in our globalised world, we may never see them growing in their native habitat, but back in the winter of 2020, when my partner and I were lucky enough to lockdown in Crete for six months, I was able to take these pictures, firstly of the olives in fruit and then, following the harvest, the next year’s flowers – beautiful, tiny flowers. Cretan olives are small and although they can be eaten, they are mostly used for olive oil production and little factories all over the island grind into life for their short but frantic season of activity. Following the harvest, growers must prune their trees to keep them at a manageable height and shape for harvesting which is done by placing nets all over the ground below the trees and then using a sort of mechanical beater at the end of a large pole to knock the olives to the ground. So first the island sounds like it is being attacked by giant bees and then later it is shrouded in smoke from the many bonfires disposing of the prunings (see below). There is lot of waste heat generated here but the pits from the pressed olives are dried and do become fuel – the boiler of a laundry serving all the hotels in Elounda, where we were staying, was powered by olive pits!

Bonfires of olive prunings in an olive grove, Crete 2021

I realised that year, that what I had always heard, that olives have to be brined in order to remove the bitterness from them and make them palatable, is not the whole story. If you read my entry for K, where I discuss lactic acid pickling, you can see that the olives must be considered as being pickled and that the flavour changes are more complex than simply soaking the bitterness away. There is a variety and style of green olive that I used to get from a Cypriot shop in Brixton, London, where the brining is very light and the olives have been cracked to allow the brine to penetrate better – they then have some olive oil, lemon slices and coriander seeds added – they are definitely more bitter than most olives but they grew on me…

Olive Oil is credited with increasing the longevity of Mediterranean peoples, they use it instead of butter so for example, you sit down at a restaurant and you are immediately brought a small dish of olive oil and some bread to dip into the oil and eat. This will be extra virgin (first pressing) olive oil which has the greatest benefits as well as the best taste. Industry has been quick to jump on the benefit and produce margarine type spreads made from olive oil, but in the same way that the benefits of olive oil are destroyed by heat (so it is no good frying with it if you want it’s health benefits), I very much doubt that the many processes necessary to create spread, preserve the benefits either – take the wholefood (minimal processing) approach and stick to dipping your bread or pouring neat over a salad.

Olives can obviously be eaten on their own but are added to salads and stews but as an ingredient, a classic dish is Tapenade, and once more, Elizabeth David is the person responsible for introducing this to the British in 1950, and once they were able to get the ingredients, following the end of rationing, it provided an easy to achieve but sophisticated dish. The name comes from tapeno, the Provencal word for Capers and although it features olives as an ingredient, this is principally a caper dish. This recipe was adapted from “Mediterranean Cooking,” by Paula Wolfert (HarperPerennial, 1994) and appears here, and Wolfert in turn, based it on Elizabeth David’s recipe…

TAPENADE
– Pit a cup of wrinkled black olives (ready pitted olives do not have the same amount of taste and it’s easy enough to be worth doing yourself)
– 4 tablespoons capers
– 2 tablespoons lemon juice
– 1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
– Freshly ground black pepper
– tablespoons cognac or dark rum
– 1 cup olive oil

1. Soak the olives, anchovies and capers to remove excess salt. Rinse and pat dry.
2. Chop as finely as you can (do not be tempted to use a blender) olives, anchovies, capers. Place in a mixer and add the lemon juice, mustard, pepper to taste and cognac. Mix until pasty.
3. With the motor running, drizzle in the olive oil in a steady stream to obtain a smooth, thick sauce. Transfer to a bowl; let stand for at least an hour before serving to allow flavours to mingle.

Variations: To mellow the bold, salty flavor of this tapenade, mix in about a tablespoon of tomato paste and a pinch of sugar, or a tablespoon or two of crumbled canned tuna. Or bake a whole eggplant at 350 degrees for about 30 minutes, until it is black, blistery and collapsing. Peel under running water, and squeeze out any bitter juices. Place in a bowl, preferably wooden, and pound until well-mashed. Then gradually whisk in the entire cup of tapenade.

Per (1-tablespoon) serving: 53 calories; 5g fat (85 percent calories from fat); 0.5g saturated fat; 3mg cholesterol; 1g protein; 1g carbohydrate; no sugar; no fiber; 245mg sodium; 9mg calcium; 23mg potassium.

And so to overeating…
The “miracle” of first world agri-industry, with it’s chemicals to fertilise, protect from pests and disease, and even genetic engineering, implemented on an industrial scale by machines so large, that many small farmers no longer do the work, but bring in contractors to plough, spray and harvest crops, has made food production more productive and so more profitable – but at what cost? The food may be cheaper, but damage to the environment and bio-diversity and to the quality of the food, raises questions of whether it was worth it – and that’s just the crops. I have already described the cost in terms of land use, of raising meat and to that you can add issues of quality, in the light of the use of anti-biotics and growth hormones being passed up the food chain – to us! But it’s the cheapness that leads to the problem of overeating. In America, where agri-business reigns supreme, visitors to that country are staggered – literally – at the portion sizes in restaurants and equally, by the number of obese people – most Americans are not the svelte people we see in Hollywood offerings…. And the rest of us first worlders are not far behind. The combination of fat and sugar is particularly bad for people on low incomes. Take this trick of the food industry, sugar, salt and acidity, are all flavour enhancers which means that if you are making a tin of baked beans say, you can get away with a tiny amount of tomato in the sauce (saving money), as long as you use a well balanced mix of the flavour enhancers mentioned above. Too much salt is bad for your blood pressure but sugar is the killer, too often hidden in products such as baked beans and in staggering amounts in fizzy drinks, unless they are sugar free – in which case they are replaced, often, with addictive, probably harmful in the long run – Aspatrtame. For years, the sugar industry put the blame for obesity on fat, but we need “good” fats and we certainly don’t need lots of sugar.

Of course, exercise is good in combination with reducing your portion sizes just as much as fat and sugar combined are the very devil! At the end of the day though, reducing portion size and watching the calories (especially from sugar), are the most important steps, the more the weight comes off, the easier it becomes to exercise and then you have a positive feedback loop…

Four Months On…

 I resurrected this blog shortly before the Covid 19 and just in time to participate in the A to Z 2020 Challenge which since I had only discovered on the first day and thus being totally unprepared for in terms of a subject, I wrote about what was going on at the time – Covid 19! 

After the rigour of posting once a day, I tailed off rapidly and I see now that it is just over four months since I last posted – enough with the confessional – Lewis Carroll, a prolific letter writer opined that one should never spend more than a page and a half apologising for not writing sooner…

So what now? Well, Covid 19 still dominates the headlines as well as the smaller column inches of the media and truly it has impacted all our lives. In my own case, my partner and I have just taken ourselves away from the UK and off to Crete to sit out the shit storm which continues to be the UK government’s handling of the pandemic. I realize that sentence needs many qualifications but more of that later.

My partner’s sister lives in Crete with her Greek partner and suggested we might be both safer and happier wintering with them since the effect of isolation on mental well-being is, for many of us lucky enough not to catch the virus, by far the worst aspect of the crisis. Those of us who are in later life especially so since the virus is mainly milder for younger people so we must be more careful than they, more isolated. We had, of course, to brave the perils of flying, weighing up the risk of catching against the risk of escaping the virus. Since the entire covid 19 record of Greece amounts to about one day of the UK history – it was not too hard a choice.

So here we are on our second day, a fierce sun has just shot up, as it does here and we are planning to stay for at least three months since the next looming crisis is the end of the Brexit Transition Period on 31st December 2020. Will it force us to return or can we afford to stay longer? Time will tell…

So I don’t wish to make this new trenche of posts to be all about the virus because we have all had enough of that – even if we can’t help looking at the news, the science articles and the noise and nonsense of social media. So I will leave you today with a picture of a different plague – not of locusts but of millipedes. We travelled on Friday just gone, to the news that Crete was suffering an unseasonal downpour of rain and this was the signal for these little critters to emerge from whatever damp place they call home, and climb the walls – literally. Whether climbing the walls is an understandable response to being locked down underground during the long hot summer or some other compulsion such as breeding – I cannot say! they were, however, everywhere – not just outside, but clinging to ceilings and walls inside having squeezed under locked doors – it’s life Jim – but not as we know it…

Oh – and if you do pick them up – they squirt a lingering smell of creosote in their defence… Perhaps somebody can give us their true name, and why they climb the walls?