Sunday, 6 February 2011

Early one Sunday morning ...

I could not sleep, unlike the rest of the house at 5am ...

The house was cold, its a cold i am getting used too - like i did in my youth. Then the glass had pretty designs on the inside made, from frost glazed ice. The outside air freezing the warm air we expelled overnight.

There was still a glimmer from the mighty woodburner, but despite my best efforts and half a box of firelighters it refused to turn into a furnace. There was only one thing for it, after my second coffee, explore outside.

It was even colder in the pre dawn air which catches the lungs, and mists your glasses as you walk - well mine anyway. The church bells had been ringing at 6am, the priest was singing in Tries Hieraches as i passed, and the older black clad and very smartly dressed ladies, were the only people i met as they made their way to church.

Skiathos ladies are short people and slightly bent with age and island rheumatism, but they catch your eye. As a Xenos or 'stranger' i always pass a greeting, and it is nearly always returned.

Down by the harbour, Evia was clear in the distance, and reflecting a pink glow, in the early sun that was hidden from view behind the Pounta. It seems someone has made a technical adjustment to the Paralia car barrier, as it was bent square back overnight.

The car was covered in condensation, and even colder inside. However it was a short drive back to the Paralia to unload two bags of driftwood to the store. The mighty woodburner will light first time tonight.

The car was full of sand and pieces of bark and fragments of wood. So an ideal time to give it a birthday with the dustpan and brush. Soon it was relatively clean, and in the boot i was reunited with a fishing reel and two hand lines, i had forgotten about during the winter.

Maybe its time to go fishing ...

A walk back along the Paralia and the Flying cat was departing for Volos, in what can only be described as a sea of fire. The sun now had risen over the Pounta, and the glare from the reflection off the water was burning the eyes.

I looked up and the port police were looking at their bent barrier. They had a discussion and bent it back into place. A fine adjustment to straighten it, and it broke off in their hands.

I tried not to laugh, it was one of those 'Its not my fault -Its your fault moments' as they looked at each other. They put it between the gates, it will probably fall in the harbour later.

Back into the church square, after passing some bleary eyed customers at the cafes, and the young altar boys were ringing the church bells. It sounds to me like this ...

'Come to church'
'Come to church'
'Come to church'


'Come to church'
'Come to church'
'Come to church'

The priest was still singing, and the wafting smell of fresh bread from Nikos bakery, that makes your stomach rumble as he makes the Sunday bread and pastries ...

Now the windows and shutters are open, the air is warmer, the sky is blue and cloudless. My neighbour Maria is sweeping the street bent over using a hand brush. Its a slow sweep, sweep, sweep, and Vasilis is off on his scooter to collect the first 5 litres of water of the day from the spring.

Another start to a Sunday morning, on a small rock in the aegean ...

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