I am not a great one for all this Christmas malarkey, but each to his or her own I say, so I won’t dwell on my reasons here. But both me and the better half wouldn’t dream of spoiling other peoples’ fun and we’re firm believers in the ‘live and let live’ philosophy anyway. The kids (as I mentioned in the previous post) in Greece go out on Christmas eve and tinkle their triangles at peoples’ front doors while torturing – sorry – singing (But the former is usually more accurate in the case of the smaller children, even though it’s strangely endearing) some traditional carol or other and then the householder’s supposed to give them some small change. OK, so even if we don’t go much on all this pagan celebrating, why should we be nasty to a couple of innocent kids who ring our doorbell? So we always send them away with a couple of coins in their little box and we tell them they’re good kids, which they are.

On the Eve of Saturnalia (which is what I prefer to call the big day, as it’s a more accurate description), Maria our neighbour (not the one across the lane, Evangelia’s daughter, but the one just down below us, whose hubby sadly committed suicide a few years ago and left her to raise her kids alone), well she rang the doorbell after dark and I answered it to see her standing there with a tapsi covered in cooking foil and a huge warm smile on her face. Inviting her in, she stepped inside and lifted the foil from the tray, inside of which was a very delicious-looking array of kourabie’des, melomaka’rona and that weird wafery stuff made primarily from honey, which is baked (maybe fried?) and then rolled up to be eaten rather like a spring roll. The third of the three items we’re not so fond of, but the first two really do it for the both of us. There’s not much to touch either a kourabie’da or a melomaka’rono with your morning coffee in our book, and Maria explained right away that she’d made all of it, nothing shop-bought there, all made by her own fair hand.

She’s such a sweet person and she explained, “I spent all day making these, and then I thought, ‘There’s Gianni and Maria up there, foreigners and all, and they’ll be all on their lonesomes, so I’ll take them up some of the stuff that I’ve baked.” Tell, you what, we don’t at all mind a bit of charity coming our way when it tastes as delicious as Maria’s baking. What we really loved was that she seems to be able to get the balance of sweetness just right, as when you buy either Kourabie’des or melomaka’rona in the shops, they’re often just a little too sweet for us. Maria’s, on the other hand were so delicious it was hard not to scoff the lot right away. I’m amazed to say that we still have just a few left…

We may be fighting over that last Kourabie’da, so it’ll probably end up getting cut in two!

As I think I’ve mentioned before, we now get our olive oil too from Maria and her diminutive son Dimitri. We have a couple of 5 litre plastic bottles (only used for transit of course, we’ve been well advised to transfer it into a stainless steel barrel with a tap at the bottom once we get it in the house) and, when we need more oil, I trot down to their house and deposit the bottle outside their front door. Sure enough, usually within 24 hours Dimitri will be at the door with a refilled bottle of their own home-produced oil. Thus, a couple of days ago he did just that, rang the doorbell at sundown, and when I opened the door there he was with a nice full bottle. It’s not only his mum that comes bearing gifts though, I handed him the very modest amount of cash that they ask for the oil, and he then thrust a huge bag of homegrown aubergines, tomatoes, courgettes and cucumbers at me with the other hand. It’s impossible to overstate just how lovely these people are, truly.

The beautiful, settled warm sunny weather continues and, if the forecasts are to be believed, will do so for another week or ten days yet. It’s a welcome change after last winter, and now, as we move into the new year, whenever some colder weather arrives it will still be of shorter duration that it was last year. The garden’s been teeming with butterflies lately, especially on the flowering lantana in the top bed, where red admirals and painted ladies abound. Plus there are bumble bees going right inside the hibiscus flowers in the pots on our sun terrace and we delight to listen to their busy hum while sipping our coffees and feeling the heat of the sun on our chests. Of course, this weather’s very conducive to photography, so here goes with this post’s batch. Hope you like them…

I like the above shot of Yvonne, because you can see the seafront reflected in the glass behind her. This final shot below is of a plant in the raised bed that I built beside the sun terrace a while back. It usually flowers for about a month-to-six weeks during the spring, but look at it now. It’s plainly confused about what time of year it is. Anyone know what it’s called BTW? –

Here’s wishing everyone a peaceful and happy 2023. I truly hope you’ll manage, what with all the cost of living hikes and the awful news about ongoing conflicts and climate change, to stop and smell the roses, to take some leisure time and appreciate the good things, high on the list of which is good company of course. And, if you don’t live here in Greece, maybe you’ll be able to pay us a visit sometime during the coming 12 months.

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